The newly sold house had a loose tile, the half pint roofers were here, in their matching tracksuits, doing a really bad job, unseen by the developers. They did the job, charged for the materials and submitted the invoice. The materials were stolen from other empty properties across the site, thus leaving more work to “repair” later on, when they needed a cash boost to get to the Costas.
We all saw the young lad go up onto the steeply pitched roof, without proper roof ladders, no harness, no PPE, just the shiny shell suit (they went out in the 80’s I’m sure). Once he was up at the top the lads from below, took down the ladders, put them back onto of the van fixed a small advertising board into the garden of the house they were working on and drove off.
We all spent a while looking up and trying to speak to the lad up there, but what with the flight path being above and the factory nearby we couldn’t always hear him. Then someone pointed out it was Friday, the pub was open and they were cooking pizzas.
Well that was the last time we saw him up there. God knows where he went because he wasn’t there the next morning when the close awoke and stirred. Maybe the roofers came back in the fading evening light.
Two weeks later a family moved in, and opened the side gate to allow the dog into the garden to save him wrecking the new carpets. When they opened the patio doors to suck in the garden air, they found the dog licking and snorting hungrily in the split skull of a small person in a faded tracksuit.