The Hoarder

"Firstly, the rat. That was unfortunate, wasn't it? I'll admit that. I do have traps down and regularly catch the bleeders but to be honest, there's not a lot here for them."

It was Michael's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking the disorderliness of the front of my property would seem to be the perfect environment for rats but I know it isn't. No, I'm inclined to think that my land is used as a conduit."

Michael again looked puzzled.

"You don't know the word "conduit", no? How about "thoroughfare"?"

"No."

Kendal sighed and smiled. "So, it's a way through. A means to get somewhere else." Kendal smiled more broadly. "I mean, that rat this morning, he didn't hang about, did he?" Kendal barked out a laugh. Michael, however, had not reached the stage where he could share the humour, it still being too soon. He managed a wan smile.

Kendal continued. "There's no easy food here, you see." He looked markedly at Michael as he said this. "Rats need food to thrive and there is none easily available here. I'm quite meticulous about that, even with my compost heap. However, I know that Mrs. Bellingham next door," Kendal waved his hand in the general direction of his neighbour on the left,"deposits her rubbish bag outside the back door once, maybe twice a week." Here, Kendal leant forward conspiratorially as if sharing a confidence. "She doesn't want to go out in her slippers and she's too lazy to put her shoes on." He leant back again. "Or maybe they're just too tricky to get on quickly. She is," and here, Kendal paused slightly before choosing his words carefully, "a rather large lady." Kendal then stroked his chin as if contemplating some deep philosophical question. "Or maybe she drinks too much and is slovenly." Kendal looked directly at Michael again and laughed. "She certainly enjoys wearing nighties and leisure wear."

Michael didn't want to know how Kendal was so aware of Mrs. Bellingham's attire.

Kendal returned to his original argument. "The point is the rats tear her bin bags apart all the time, strewing food scraps and wrappers all over the street. The fox has a good go at them too." Kendal looked thoughtful again. "And the crows." He paused, a wry smile playing on his lips, before looking at Michael and stating, "Does that not constitute an environmental hazard, Michael?"

Before Michael could comment, he added,"That woman loves eating off the bone. If it's not chops, it's rib eye. If it's not rib eye, it's a leg of lamb. Plenty for rats to gnaw on from her leftovers."

Michael was not appreciative of the rat chat and wanted the conversation to move on but Kendal was not to be deterred. "But I suppose that pavements strewn with chewed up bones is fine compared to my front yard?"

"None of it is fine, Mr. McIntyre...," Michael started because quite frankly it wasn't, although he thought the old man was probably exaggerating to make a point but he was interrupted when Kendal said, a cheeky glint in his eye:

"Well then, you could have a word with her while you are here, couldn't you? Mention it maybe. You could tell her, in fact, that you have seen a rat this morning and that all vigilance must be given to ensure that they do not have access to food by any means."

Michael said,"Well, yes, but I'm here to see you, not her."

Kendal showed the first sign of being less than amicable in that moment.

"Indeed. But Michael, it's only fair, isn't it? Now that you know this, you couldn't, shouldn't even, just let it go..." He stopped and then added, "Should you?" He smiled encouragingly at Michael.

Michael was feeling increasingly like he was being played and was uncomfortable in this. He showed it by squirming in his seat, shifting from buttock to buttock in a bid to shirk off the responsibility just placed on him by a man who should really be doing his, Michael's bidding, not sending him off on side quests.

"Anyway, you'll have time to visit her on your way out as I won't keep you much longer."

Michael was again about to protest when Kendal once more dominated the conversation.

"Now, to the task at hand and an explanation as to why I will not be able to comply with your request."

Michael was about to argue that Kendal really didn't have a choice but Kendal was paying him no attention. He had steepled his fingers again in front of his mouth and was looking to the ceiling as if searching for inspiration. "You see," he continued, "I believe, and quite strongly at that," Kendal moving his eyes away from the ceiling to centre them on Michael again,"that keeping everything as it is is a matter of life or death."

If Michael had been expecting him to say anything, it was not this. He inadvertently let out a snort, a derisory sound which made Kendal's brows meet in consternation. Again, Kendal looked less than pleased but was very much in control of his temper.

"I see that my reason has prompted a reaction in you, Michael and not a favourable one, it would seem."

Michael said quickly,"I didn't mean to offend but it just seemed a little dramatic really."

Kendal smiled weakly. "Yes, I suppose it does and yet..." He stopped and then said, thoughtfully, "it is true nonetheless." He paused. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes," Michael said.

"How old are you?"

"I'm thirty-three."

Kendal smiled warmly. "Ah, the age of Jesus when he purportedly died. How apt."

Michael was unsure where this was headed, the mention of Jesus feeling less a blessing and more a red flag, and moved awkwardly again.

"What do you know about men, Michael?"

"Sorry?" This was becoming very confusing, Michael thought. Was the old man implying something about Michael, something sexual? Again, Michael felt keenly the strange nature of the situation in which he had placed himself. Had he inadvertently entered a senior's sex lair? And who was this man to ask him all these personal questions? He was being grilled when really he should be the one being adhered to. Michael really didn't have time for this. His discomfort was turning into frustration. He would have to write up a report afterwards and he didn't want to do a minute's overtime.

"What I mean to ask is, in your time on Earth, what have you learnt about men? Mankind, if you will."

Michael was stumped. "Um," he started, "I...um...well, I'm not really sure what you're asking..."

Kendal pressed. "Well, let's see. Do you follow politics at all? Who do you vote for?"

Michael had never voted. It all stayed the same, life went on, bills to pay, work every day - what was the point? All politicians seemed to be the same no matter what party they belonged to. However, he didn't want to tell Kendal this as somehow he felt like it would not go down well and his instincts were still telling him to tread carefully. He felt a little shamefaced. He started again with a tentative, "Um" but it seemed that it was a rhetorical question as Kendal continued.

"I'm going to tell you what I've learned." Kendal was looking pensive again. "Some things that you learn are knocked into you by experience. These experiences end and you make sure that you don't put yourself into that situation again. You try and keep control. But there's a lot that's out of your control, you see. There's a lot that happens regardless of the safeguards you place to protect yourself and this is true for all people." Kendal paused. "It is also true for all countries and their truces and their agreements."

Kendal wasn't making much sense to Michael. He hadn't the time for a political or philosophical debate!

"With all due respect, Mr. McIntyre," Michael countered, "I'm not sure what this has to do with clearing your front garden."

"Do you not?" Mr. McIntyre's expression showed mild irritation but then just as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared. "I must speak more plainly then. I've always been told I'm verbose."

Michael had no desire to know about any afflictions the old man had and wondered if he should just get up now and leave but the chair had wedged him and he wanted his exit to be with as little humiliation as possible.

"Michael." Something about the gravity in his tone made Michael stop trying to free himself and focus on Kendal. The old man was looking directly at him and leaning forward in his chair with the intensity of a political commentator grilling a recalcitrant MP.

"I will not get rid of what is in my front garden. I am not mad, neither am I an awkward old man nor a hoarder of useless things." He paused. "Michael, everything that I have gathered here is here for a reason and that reason is survival."

Michael was tempted to scoff again and roll his eyes but something about the intensity of Kendal's gaze stopped him.

"There will be a need for everything that I have here. And soon, I think."

Michael watched with discomfort as the old man, who up until that point had seemed so solid, began to brim with emotion, his expression crumpling. With full eyes and with a depth of feeling that was difficult to ignore, Kendal added, ominously:

"Because of the whims of men."

This is part 4 of a serialisation I am writing. If you missed Part 3: