was peaceful, shielded by the house and surrounding trees.
“ I have a workshop,” he explained. “At the far end.”
She picked her way along the path in his footsteps, in case marking the grass was frowned upon. But as no warnings were forthcoming, and she looked around her a little more confidently, she saw something else in the garden besides the ornamental trees and flowering shrubs.
Metal sculptures…
“ What?” Adrik heard her sharp gasp, and looked. “Oh – it’s my hobby. You’re not the only secret artist around here.”
A fairy-ring of giant toadstools stood in the lawn under the delicately-leaved acers, burnt into rainbow colours, complete with copper toads sitting atop them. On the other side, a glade was dominated by a steampunk octopus, wearing flying goggles and holding various tools in its suckered tentacles – a spanner, a screwdriver, a rusted hacksaw.
“They’re amazing…” Christie pointed at the octopus. “I’d have that in my gallery. Doug would love to put this sort of installation in his nightclub too.”
“ Only for me.” Adrik shook his head. “I don’t make things for other people. Not any more, anyway. Plenty of people already sailing around the world on bits of my welding.”
They reached the large brick-built workshop spanning the end of the garden, which he unlocked.
“You can look,” he said. “But don’t touch.”
An almost verbatim echo from Derek.
“Okay,” she murmured timidly.
He nodded and held the door open for her to go through, following her inside.
It was – very workshoppy. A large workbench took up the middle space, half-finished projects taking up most of the room. It smelled of wood and burnt metal. The back wall was a mass of shelves and pigeonholes filled with nuts, bolts, nails, screws and small offcuts, and hooks to hang tools on.
While he put the handbag down onto the far end of the bench, Christie gravitated towards a two-foot tall owl in progress, the framework of one wing visible, while the other was fully-feathered, with individually curled, paper-thin pointed metal strips.
“No touching,” Adrik warned again, seeing her lean closer. “It’s not properly counterbalanced yet. If it falls over it’ll slice off your fingers.”
“ I wasn’t going to…” The owl wobbled, even though she hadn’t so much as reached out towards it.
“ I think I’ll take out some insurance on that.” Adrik strode over, took hold of the cuffs of her bomber jacket and pulled them together, so that her hands clasped in front of her. Before she guessed what he was doing, he stretched the cuffs down into a nearby vice and spun the bar to close it firmly. “Now you can watch me, and not break anything or hurt yourself.”
He left a quick kiss on her stunned forehead, and returned to the other end of the workbench.
Instinct made her tug once or twice, but she was indeed stuck fast. She couldn’t slide her hands up into the sleeves to try and wriggle free that way, or reach the bar to turn it with either her fingers or her knee.
Concerned about rocking any of the objects on the workbench, she was forced to stand still where she was restrained, and wait.
Adrik wrapped the handbag in some protective sheeting, and affixed the metal plate part into another vice, before rolling up his sleeves and reaching down a worn-in, dark brown set of overalls to put on.
“ You won’t need any,” he said, pulling them over his smart trousers and shirt. “You’re far enough away.”
Then he reached into a pigeonhole on one of the shelves, and took out a pair of plastic goggles, like the sort used in school science experiments.
“But you should wear these, in case it spits, or sparks fly.”
Approaching her again, he gently brushed a few strands of her hair aside, and slid the goggles into place.
“They’re a bit too big,” he remarked, adjusting their position on her nose. “Make sure you don’t sneeze or anything. They’ll shoot off.”
“
“ I have a workshop,” he explained. “At the far end.”
She picked her way along the path in his footsteps, in case marking the grass was frowned upon. But as no warnings were forthcoming, and she looked around her a little more confidently, she saw something else in the garden besides the ornamental trees and flowering shrubs.
Metal sculptures…
“ What?” Adrik heard her sharp gasp, and looked. “Oh – it’s my hobby. You’re not the only secret artist around here.”
A fairy-ring of giant toadstools stood in the lawn under the delicately-leaved acers, burnt into rainbow colours, complete with copper toads sitting atop them. On the other side, a glade was dominated by a steampunk octopus, wearing flying goggles and holding various tools in its suckered tentacles – a spanner, a screwdriver, a rusted hacksaw.
“They’re amazing…” Christie pointed at the octopus. “I’d have that in my gallery. Doug would love to put this sort of installation in his nightclub too.”
“ Only for me.” Adrik shook his head. “I don’t make things for other people. Not any more, anyway. Plenty of people already sailing around the world on bits of my welding.”
They reached the large brick-built workshop spanning the end of the garden, which he unlocked.
“You can look,” he said. “But don’t touch.”
An almost verbatim echo from Derek.
“Okay,” she murmured timidly.
He nodded and held the door open for her to go through, following her inside.
It was – very workshoppy. A large workbench took up the middle space, half-finished projects taking up most of the room. It smelled of wood and burnt metal. The back wall was a mass of shelves and pigeonholes filled with nuts, bolts, nails, screws and small offcuts, and hooks to hang tools on.
While he put the handbag down onto the far end of the bench, Christie gravitated towards a two-foot tall owl in progress, the framework of one wing visible, while the other was fully-feathered, with individually curled, paper-thin pointed metal strips.
“No touching,” Adrik warned again, seeing her lean closer. “It’s not properly counterbalanced yet. If it falls over it’ll slice off your fingers.”
“ I wasn’t going to…” The owl wobbled, even though she hadn’t so much as reached out towards it.
“ I think I’ll take out some insurance on that.” Adrik strode over, took hold of the cuffs of her bomber jacket and pulled them together, so that her hands clasped in front of her. Before she guessed what he was doing, he stretched the cuffs down into a nearby vice and spun the bar to close it firmly. “Now you can watch me, and not break anything or hurt yourself.”
He left a quick kiss on her stunned forehead, and returned to the other end of the workbench.
Instinct made her tug once or twice, but she was indeed stuck fast. She couldn’t slide her hands up into the sleeves to try and wriggle free that way, or reach the bar to turn it with either her fingers or her knee.
Concerned about rocking any of the objects on the workbench, she was forced to stand still where she was restrained, and wait.
Adrik wrapped the handbag in some protective sheeting, and affixed the metal plate part into another vice, before rolling up his sleeves and reaching down a worn-in, dark brown set of overalls to put on.
“ You won’t need any,” he said, pulling them over his smart trousers and shirt. “You’re far enough away.”
Then he reached into a pigeonhole on one of the shelves, and took out a pair of plastic goggles, like the sort used in school science experiments.
“But you should wear these, in case it spits, or sparks fly.”
Approaching her again, he gently brushed a few strands of her hair aside, and slid the goggles into place.
“They’re a bit too big,” he remarked, adjusting their position on her nose. “Make sure you don’t sneeze or anything. They’ll shoot off.”
“
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