“Dad, the gnomes are back,” Charlie said, running towards Mike, with a dirt-smeared piece of paper clutched in his hand.
Mike’s heart sank and he groaned, “Again? How do you know they are back, Charlie? You were wrong last time, don’t forget.” Mike’s home had been invaded before and at that time they had relied on the council to get rid of them. It had taken months, as the waiting list was huge. A few weeks ago Charlie had said the gnomes were back, but fortunately he was mistaken.
Charlie was innocently unaware of all the havoc that gnomes created, as he grinned up at his father. A seven year old had no real concept of the cost that gnomes could cause a family. Mischief glinted in his eyes as he handed the paper over to his father. “I found this, dad.”
“Did you let them in, Charlie?” Mike demanded, his voice suggesting uncertainty whilst his face looked horrified that Charlie might have actually been stupid enough to actually do this.
“Of course not, dad,” Charlie sulked. “I know how angry you get when gnomes get in.”
Mike studied his son’s face for a moment. The look of mischief was gone, replaced with a look of concern. He hated being told off.”
Mike took the paper and unfolded it. It was a child-like scribble and briefly he glanced at his son to see if it was his joke after all. In a way he wished it was, but again his son looked genuinely concerned by his father’s obvious anger. His gaze returned to the paper and another groan escaped his lips.
“They’ll be in the cellar,” he said, crumpling the paper in his fist, his eyes staring into the distance. How much would this cost him this time? He regretted not buying the GnomeZapper, the home protector trusted by thousands of sensible homeowners. The radio advert ran through his brain; a mantra that every family hated for it made you think of gnomes and the damage they wreaked. The device was very expensive, but possibly not as expensive as the repairs from an invasion. Mike stormed towards the cellar door, his son following on his heels.
“Can I come down, dad?” Charlie asked.
For a moment Mike considered saying no, but his son’s presence might be just what he needed. The worst thing to do was to lose you temper with a gnome. If threatened, the gnomes hid and the problems trebled. “Yes, you can come down, but be quiet and don’t encourage them. If you show kindness we are doomed.” His son looked genuinely shocked at this and for a moment Mike regretted being so brutal in his assessment, but his son had to understand the truth.
Mike opened the door and then reached behind it for the cellar light switch, “Please be here and not in the attic,” he mumbled. A friend at work had once had gnomes in the attic and before he realised that they were there, the roof had collapsed.
Mike and Charlie descended the narrow stair and almost in front of where the stairs ended was a hole in the ground. Mike stifled a swear word.
“Suger, eh, dad!” Charlie offered, looking sympathetic. Amongst the damp and smell of old bricks was the scent of freshly dug soil. Not only were the gnomes there, but they were already fairly deep. To one side of the tunnel was another hole in the wall; bricks had been removed haphazardly, leaving a jagged maw leading into darkness. A couple of pieces of wood leaned in the hole in a child-like attempt to shore up the wall and stop it from caving in.
“Go get me a torch, Charlie” Mike sighed and he listened as Charlie’s feet slapped on the steps on his way up. “The big torch!” Mike called up as an after thought. He knelt by the hole in the wall and peered in. That there were two holes was a very bad sign. He unfolded the paper in his hand and tried to make sense of the wavy lines. This was probably their equivalent of an architect’s plan. Not that a plan would help. Gnomes were dreadful builders and they caused havoc wherever they went.
