The skip arrived. The turf, cut and rolled, was lifted in, heavy clods of rolled grass, some worms still wriggling in the drying earth.
‘How long will it take?’, the man asked impatiently, a voice used to being in authority.
‘We’ll be done by the end of the day’, the labourer responded, slow yet assuring, used to clients short of time and temper.
By 4 o’clock he’d kept his word. The LazyLawn was laid throughout, from the brick wall boundary up to the perfect white stone path leading to the front door steps. A lawn of verdant green, mixed hues, even with strands mimicking dead grass, all plastic, man made. No more maintenance, as it says on the tin.
‘Shall I get rid of the mower for you?’ suggested the labourer
‘Give me £30 for it,’ the man said as if do not fool me.
‘I’ll give you £10 – you’ll not be needing it any more’.
It wasn’t until the inquest that these details came out.
“Slipping on artificial grass lawn, the victim fell fatally hit his head on the lawn mower, that by strange co-incidence was left outside.”