Cold Call by Gregory Ballinger, frozen lemon bitter with a twist.

 Burt Longmeadow was sitting in his study, happily deleting all his daily junk emails that persisted on trying to sell him things he didn’t need. ‘If I wanted a solar-powered light up garden gnome, then I would buy one,’ Burt muttered to himself, deleting the last of them, so he could finally get down to the task of doing his work. He took a sip from his searing coffee, grimaced, then took another. Burt opened his work finally, but then three loud knocks rang through the house. Burt leant back in his chair, cocking an ear towards the door, ‘Hello?’ he called out, and the three knocks sounded again, just as before.

Burt huffed, slapped his legs and got up, marching down the hallway. ‘If this is someone messing around or worse, someone selling something, I will not be happy,’ Burt thundered, opening the door with barely controlled annoyance. His fixed expression was ready-to-argue, but quickly softened when he saw a little old lady, hunched over, wearing a shawl, looking up at him. ‘Hello?’ Burt said. ‘Are you lost?’

‘Hello, dear,’ the little old lady quavered in a creaky voice, tilting her whole body to look up at him. Her eyes were like two sunken dots in a wrinkled face, while her rosy red cheeks seemed to exude radiance and warmth. ‘Lovely sunny day today.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Burt answered, standing there and scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to do.

‘Climate change seems to be giving us more sunny days,’ the lady remarked, with a little chuckle.

‘I suppose it’s better than more rain,’ Burt parried back, almost smiling in return.

‘We’re lucky to live in such a sunny part of the world,’ the lady went on.

‘I’m sorry,’ Burt cut in. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but do you want something?’

‘I was just going for a walk and my legs started to get tired,’ the lady explained, with a little shake of her head. ‘Would you mind ever so much, if I rested a little while, then I’ll be on my way.’

‘I have lots of work to do today,’ Burt told her, pulling an apologetic face.

‘My legs just aren’t what they used to be,’ the lady added, and then with some effort, turned around and hobbled back down the garden path.

‘Look,’ Burt called out. ‘I’m sorry, of course you can come inside and rest.’

‘Are you sure I can come in?’ the lady asked, turning around again.

‘Stay as long as you need to,’ Burt smiled, finally.

‘Thank you,’ the lady beamed, as she ambled her way back towards the door.

Inside, Burt led the little old lady into the lounge, and gestured for her to sit in the comfy chair. ‘My name’s Burt, I didn’t catch your name?’

‘Betty,’ she told him, adjusting herself in the chair. She looked like a fragile, waif of a person, with her shawl wrapped around tight, giving her the appearance of a plant husk that could be blown away at any moment.

‘Cup of tea, Betty?’

‘That would be lovely.’

When Burt returned with the tea, he placed it down on the table with a small selection of biscuits, feeling slightly guilty about being so rude, but also because there was something about this little old lady that made him warm to her. ‘Tell me Betty, have you walked far?’

Betty nodded, then gazed towards the window. ‘It’s lovely to have all this sun,’ Betty commented, her face unfolding into a smile. ‘I see your neighbours have solar panels.’

‘Bit of an eyesore if you ask me,’ Burt stated.

Betty seemed shocked. ‘To take advantage of all this lovely sunshine and to ease pressure off the household budget?’

‘You sound like one of those emails I’ve just finished deleting,’ Burt quipped and Betty stared back blankly. ‘They keep messaging me, it’s relentless.’

‘Why don’t you get solar panels?’ Betty asked.

‘I don’t have the time.’

‘Sorry dear,’ Betty apologised, starting to get up. ‘I’m taking up your precious time.’

‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ Burt reassured her, raising his hands in mock surrender and gesturing for her to sit back down.

‘They take less than an hour to be installed, once the first payment has been made,’ Betty rattled on.

‘You seem to know a lot about it, do you have them yourself?’

Betty blinked slowly, then continued waffling, ‘They’d save twenty percent off your household energy bills and anything that isn’t used can be stored in a solar battery.’ Betty paused, momentarily. ‘That can’t be a bad thing, not during an energy crisis. Do you like the planet?’

‘Of course I do,’ Burt snapped back like a rubber band, unhappy with the direction the conversation was taking, but then corrected himself when he saw the old lady’s withered face. ‘I’m sorry, I get lots of junk sent through each day, it’s frustrating.’

‘Do it for me Burt,’ Betty reaffirmed, leaning forward and touching Burt’s hand, ‘and the planet.’

Burt looked down at the frail old hand, it felt cold on his skin. ‘I’ll look into it.’

‘Will you?’ Betty beamed back. ‘Do you promise?’

Burt nodded, then added, ‘you haven’t touched your tea, it’ll be getting cold.’

‘In a moment,’ Betty answered dismissively, not taking her eyes off Burt. ‘Will you sign up for the solar panels today, if you get a fifteen percent discount?’ Betty continued to press and Burt shrugged, unsure if she was losing the plot. ‘Do you have a pen anywhere?’

‘Yes,’ Burt confirmed, reaching into the drawer of the coffee table and retrieving a pen just to make her stop.

‘Make an old lady happy and sign the contract,’ Betty pleaded. ‘Then I’ll be on my way.’

‘Okay,’ Burt agreed, playing along with significant pantomime, watching as Betty ferreted around in one of her pockets looking for something. Burt observed as she pulled out sweet wrappers, then a handkerchief and some old tissues, followed by a scrunched-up piece of tatty paper, reaffirming in his mind that she was indeed mad.

‘Make an old lady happy and sign the paper for me,’ she repeated, putting the piece of rumpled paper on the arm of the chair with a shaky hand.

‘If that’s what you want,’ Burt continued with forced politeness, signing his initials on the scrappy paper. Once complete, Burt sat back and the old lady snatched the paper away with swift dexterity and quickly concealed it back within her shawl out of sight. Her eyes seemed to glow for a moment, then she sat up straight for the first time since arriving and became very rigid.

‘By signing up for our solar panel discount plan, two thousand dollars has been deducted from your bank account to cover installation costs,’ Betty informed, concisely. ‘A further payment of five hundred dollars per annum will be taken from your solar gains,’ Betty droned on, unperturbed. ‘We at Solar Energy Ltd are thrilled to have you as a new and valued customer,’ Betty paused. ‘Do you understand the information that has been given to you, or would you like it repeated?’

Burt sat for a moment, stunned, until the old lady stood up and boomed at full volume, ‘Do you understand the information or would you like it repeated?’

‘I’d like you to leave,’ Burt fired back, finally putting his foot down. He reached over to hurry her along, but she seemed quite solid, as if glued to the spot with terrific strength. ‘Excuse me, can you please leave?’

‘Do you understand the information, or would you like it repeated?’ Betty parroted, then added, ‘You’ve signed a legally binding contract today and breaking it could lead to a court summons.’

‘Wait a minute, I haven’t signed a legally binding contract,’ Burt countered, but then Betty pulled back her shawl to reveal a metal body with a transparent box attached showing the scrunched-up paper, now ironed out flat with Burt’s initials signed on it. ‘Man alive, you’re a machine!’ Burt yelled, looking at the complex system of levers and pulleys, with wires connecting everything in all different colours. Burt could see her legs had been angled to give her a hobbled stoop and on closer inspection, her feet had a set of wheels on the bottom where they connected with the ground.

Suddenly, Burt heard a buzzing near the window and saw a swarm of drones descending on the roof. Getting up, Burt could hear drilling from above and realised the solar panels were already being installed. ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’

‘Actually, you did,’ Betty informed him with metallic indifference, then printed off a copy of the contract for Burt to keep, before wheeling herself smoothly back to the door at great speed. ‘Must dash, customers to sign up, targets to meet, planets to save,’ Betty chimed, already opening the door.

As she wheeled out, Betty wrapped her shawl around to hide her metal body, then hunched back over, before meandering down the street, already on the look-out for the next unsuspecting customer.

Bio:

Gregory Ballinger is an avid reader, writer and time traveller. When Gregory is not reading or writing, he often travels back to the 1800’s in England where he likes to spend his time in country gardens as an ornamental hermit, contemplating life in the cosmos. Gregory also likes cats.