Over The Top: The Con

Spike looked away. I knew I'd hit a nerve. He was bursting to tell me, but
he wanted to play it out a bit. I was too blunt for him.

"Oh yeah, quite good"

"How long does it take?"

"To do both of them? About ten minutes'"

I waited. Spike's eyes gleamed like sticky flies in a bun.

"Whose place is this?"

"That old lady Moffat's. She fell over and broke her hip, so now she's in
a wheel-chair. I've got the job for about four months, till her hip's
fixed."

I'd heard of Miss Moffat. Mum had told me about her. Mum visited her
sometimes, with flowers or biscuits. She'd do the old lady's house up too,
or weed the front garden for her. She never asked for money, or expected
it. Miss Moffat was a bit doddery. Alzheimer's disease or something.
Sometimes she didn't even know who Mum was.

Mum used to laugh about it.

I looked at the gleaming mower and felt a twinge of anger. How come my Mum
worked for nothing, and a darn sight harder than Spike ever did, but she
never got a bean? How come Spike was able to rip the old woman off, and
not feel any guilt?

"Guess what she's paying me?" said Spike. He was nearly exploding to tell
me. He wanted to crow.

"What?"

"Fifly bucks!"

"Fifty bucks? For two lawns?"

"That's right! Pretty good pickings!"

"Fifty bucks for ten minutes work!"

"That's right."

"Daylight robbery" I said, "Its not worth five bucks! All you do is walk
around behind the old lady's mower. You aren't even using a catcher!"

"That's her lookout. She agreed to it."