My Daft Boyfriend

- Jo Styles

I am going up after him,” Jack called from the bottom of the garden – just before he sneezed. “Achoo!” He fished out his hankie and blew his nose.

In sweet September a stray sneeze could feel very poignant to Ellie. She abandoned her job of snipping off dead flower heads in the border and charged down the lawn.

She found Jack tilting back his head and squinting up into the boughs of the old ash tree.

“I can’t just leave him, can I? He’s been up there all day.”

She gazed up too. “He loves climbing. He’s a cat, it’s what cats do. He gets down himself usually.”

“Even so… he still might be stuck for all we know.” True. Although normally Sylvester could climb upwards, sideways and backwards, he might have lost his nerve this afternoon.

“What’s your plan then?” Ellie asked Jack. “You do have one, don’t you?”

Is he worried about falls and broken bones? Have all the consequences of this passed him by? Ellie wished she could blame all her shallow breaths on the pollen floating about the lawn.

“I’ll climb my ladder up to the branch he’s on,” Jack said. “I promise I’ll be careful.” he added. “Honest.”

“I hardly call that a plan. Maybe you need to… to..…”

Too late, he charged off to get everything organised.

As soon as Jack set his big metal ladder against the tree’s wide trunk, Ellie took a good hard grip on its sides.

“I’ll hold it steady for you.”

She watched as up the rungs he climbed.