A Cage of Roots Read Free

dumped at his feet by over-zealous Fergus.
    ‘Mind Tom’s feet, for God’s sake, Fergus!’ Lann shouted, as the red giant hoisted yet another row of seven blocks onto the scaffold and slammed them down to be met, as Lann had expected, with a holler from poor Tom.
    ‘Ah, Jaysus, Fergus!’ Tom squealed, clutching his foot and trying to get the boot off. ‘Even with steel-toed boots I’m not safe!’
    He got the mangled boot off and began to blow on his foot.
    ‘Ah, did Poor Possum hurt his little toe-toes?’ Fergus chided, while laughter trickled down from Taig, skipping between the higher levels of scaffold.
    Lann brought his fist down on the plans in frustration. He had been using a pile of blocks as a table. Several of them cracked.
    ‘Stop!’ yelled Lann, with a keen edge of anger in his voice. It was a rare baring of teeth from the oldest brother, and it was enough to quieten the whole site, including his brothers.
    ‘Sorry, Lann,’ said Fergus, and he gently lifted just a couple of blocks onto the platform, well away from Tom.
    Lann frowned down upon the now-torn plans. He knew it was unusual for him to be so quick to temper.Sure, the architect was proving to be a bit of a pain in his neck – a posh fella from Dublin, and prone to change his plans – but something else was agitating him, and what it was he couldn’t say or put his finger on. He just had an ill feeling about the day, and this was a feeling he had learned not to ignore over the years. For now though, he just couldn’t nail it down.
    He took out his phone and looked at the photo of Ayla, for the picture always calmed him. He stared into the green eyes, glimmering between the masses of amber curls, and checked himself for losing his temper. He knew Ayla would disapprove if she were there. ‘Sorry pet,’ he muttered, and put the phone back in his pocket. Before he could return to the plans, he heard a polite cough behind him.
    Mr Fitzgerald, the architect, stood beside him wearing all the gear: hard hat with built-in ear-guards and visor, hi-viz jacket, vest and pants, and brand new boots without a single scuff. Behind him were the couple that had bought the house; all three held umbrellas pointlessly against the sleet. The wind swept up and under and from the side, and paid no heed to brollies.
    Lann barely noticed the rain bouncing off his face. This was a scheduled visit; he had just uncharacteristically forgotten about it. It was the last thing he needed today.
    ‘What can I do for you, Mr Fitzgerald?’ he asked.
    ‘Hello Lann. How’s it going? Horrible day so it is,’ thearchitect replied in his tangy South-Dublin drawl.
    ‘Soft enough alright,’ replied Lann, as the icy wind broke another wave of hail against his cheek.
    ‘Well, you’ll remember I let you know we would be coming by to discuss a few adjustments. We have a small change or two anyway.’
    The changes were anything but small, and the architect’s voice seemed to shake with pride at his own visionary abilities.
    ‘It’s all been approved at the planners. Here’s the USB with the new plans, and of course a printed copy – we know you don’t like computers!’ he finished with a smile. The couple attempted to grin expectantly behind him, but they just ended up wincing against the pelting wet.
    Briefly, Lann considered shouting at all of them, but withheld his frustration and simply announced to the site: ‘Tom! Stop. Fergus, take the blocks down. Taig! Put that scaffold back up!’ He turned to the three visitors. ‘No worries.’
    Mr Fitzgerald smiled, satisfied his power over such a giant had not waned. ‘Good man, Lann. Now, we also wanted to look into the structure in the northeast corner, the little rocky hillock. We talked about this bef—’
    But before he could finish, Lann held up a great slab of hand.
    ‘That’ll be all for now, Mr Fitzgerald. We’ve enough to be getting on with.’
    ‘But, eh, Lann, we’ve been wanting to talk about this