MUTILATED GODS
It was Friday night. Another few stripes of the mower and she would finish the manor lawn. Sue planned on retreating to her flat and savouring a couple of ice-cold beers. Tipping the grass cuttings into the compost, a faint breeze wafted tiny green shards across her face, where they stuck to her skin. She mopped her brow with a tattooed forearm and tightened the scrunchie in her hair as she walked past the twin statues of female elegance guarding the entrance to the maze. Walking around the yew-hedge corner she was surprised to see a man. The Dennett’s weren’t due back from Tuscany for a fortnight and she hadn't expected to see anyone.
“Are you Sue, the gardener?” he asked.
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“Conor – the house sitter,” he said warily.
Sue vaguely recalled Mr Dennett mentioning someone would be here.
“Yeah,” she took off one glove. “I’m a bit sticky.” His palm felt cool.
“I was looking for Ares,” Conor said.
“You mean Juno?”
“No, not the dog. It’s a statue, male, muscular, eight or nine-foot tall. Ares is one of Rodin’s mutilated gods. I thought it would be easy to find but he seems to be hiding.”
“Books and classical stuff’s not really my specialty,” Sue said. “I’m better with my hands.” Her face turned red. “But I think I know the one you want. This way.”
She led him to the maze entrance and explained the directions.
The lawn’s neat lines pointed invitingly towards the horizon as Sue rolled the mower into her van. She was ready for a
