The gardener

Janette wheeled the barrow through the thick oak gate. After months of pleading with Ms Rhodes, the stately lady had sighed resignedly.

"You may enter the garden. But please, remember this was your idea."

The garden on the other side of the gate was beautiful and wild. Vines curled and danced, the air was fragrant with the scent of flowers.

A dark corner by the far wall drew Janette's eyes. A wall of verdant ivy draped down to the ground and something glinted in the morning sun.

Setting the barrow down, Janette picked her way carefully across the garden, over cracked pavers and sun-parched weeds.

Reaching the far side, she bent and swept a handful of the ivy to the side, with her gloved hand. Then she peered into the inky shadows. Light glinted again. Off eight shiny round orbs. The larger were the size of oranges, the smaller were like plums.

Janette felt the scream building in the pit of her stomach, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom and slowly revealed the owner of the orbs.

She dropped the ivy, turned and sprinted to the gate. It slammed shut. CLICK. Across the garden, the ivy rustled and twitched.