Who We Were, What We Became

Lightning Is the Sky's Business

A/N- We didn't have much to go on regarding the groundskeeper, so I did my best to include an interesting perspective.

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"Just try and catch me!"

George heard the small boy's voice cry from somewhere beyond his sight. He looked up, squinting under his hat to try seeking the source of the noise. A deep frown marked his face, hoping that the boys would have the good sense to stay away from the garden this time. He'd had to fix enough of the flower plots in one week that he could've replanted the whole garden all over again.

Boyish laughing and fast thumping steps on the stone walkway grew closer and closer, until the three usual culprits sprinted around the corner and directly past where he knelt in the dirt. He held up his hands, drawing breath to chastise the three children, but they'd already hurtled themselves over the edge of the stone wall and into the shaded patches of dirt behind it.

"Hey! I've told you brats before, I won't tell you again!" He shouted after them, knowing they were only half listening. "Stay out of the plants!"

Predictably, they ignored his cries and continued their path of torment through the trees and shrubs planted further in. Shaking his head with a defeated sigh, George stood from where he'd been working and made his way back towards the manor.

He'd had quite enough of the lads. All this destruction they left in their wake was making his job twice as difficult to finish, and he didn't have the patience to replant another dozen roses because of them. The house Master was soon to get an earful from him yet again.

Even better, the Lady of the House emerged from the manor a few minutes later, meeting him halfway down the stone steps. She saw his irritated expression and sighed. "They're at it again, are they?"

"Yes, Madam, and if you'd be so kind as to reign those little monsters in so I could finish my task, I'd rightly appreciate it." He replied with evident scorn. She didn't appear to take offense, which he was glad for. He held no grudge against her for her son and his friends' behavior, but he would only tolerate so much.

Face set in determined lines, she nodded once. "Then if you'll excuse me, I'd better find those three and give their backsides a proper smack." Despite the harsh tone, the ghost of a smile showed through, and she walked past him towards the garden.

George knew she was too kind a woman to carry out the threat, no doubt thinking she'd settle on a good talking to to straighten the three of them out. Those boys may be spoiled, but a lecture from the Lady herself was a feared enough punishment to suffice. She could make even him wince from guilt, without ever having done anything wrong himself.

Satisfied that he'd be spared from the boys' antics for at least the rest of the afternoon, George returned to the flower patch to complete the row he'd been tending that morning. He spotted a few trampled tulips further down where the boys had passed, and scowled.

The sun beat hard down on him, and within the hour he'd finished patting down the soil, brushing the stray dirt from his gloves. He'd have to dig up the ruined flowers and plant new ones, but first he would take a break, thinking a tall glass of water would do him good.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across him, and he looked up to find three young, sullen faces, and a pleased house Lady standing just behind them, her hands clasped behind her back.

"I believe these three have something they'd like to say to you, George." She started smugly, her words making it very clear that they'd better start talking.

William, his trousers covered in dirt and glasses slightly skewed on his nose, stared at his shoes glumly. The groundskeeper knew him well enough to figure that he'd provoked some sort of contest between the three, perhaps a race, which had prompted the destructive trample through the garden. He was always trying to best Mark and Damien in some form or another, unable to resist an adventure. He was the brainchild behind most of their antics.