Page 1 of Putting Down Roots

PART I

SPRING

CHAPTER 1

Jackson

I slapmy hand down on the dashboard. Nope, that doesn’t work. The engine light resolutely stays on, so I give it another slap—you never know.

The light stays on, but the engine emits an ominous sound. Shit, I’m gonna need a garage.

My plan is simple; fill the van with fuel and drive until it runs out. I’m getting away. Away from Natasha—my ex-wife. Away from David—my brother and ex-boss. There isn’t anything else to get away from. All I have is this van and what’s in it; a few clothes, some seedlings and the money in my wallet. This is all that’s left after the divorce.

“C’mon Betsy,” I croon to the van, “You can do this.” The noise gets louder—another woman letting me down. I need to get off the motorway, but the last thing I want is to be stranded by the side of the road waiting for a tow truck.

Where would they even take me?

Home?

Ha! I don’t have anywhere to call home.

Taking the next junction, I glance at the fuel gauge and head towards the nearest town—although fifty miles won’t nearly be far enough away. Right. I need to find the closest garage, get Betsy fixed, and keep on moving.

It looks like a commuter town, with a train station and a pub—but no garage.

The noise develops into a permanent rattle.Hang in there girl, we got this.

I drive through a small village next, but this one doesn’t even have a pub.I really need to find somewhere soon.The road narrows then, and passes through a wood, before some hills come into view. And nestled at the bottom—another village.

Larchdown. I don’t know it—but there’s a niggling feeling in the back of my mind that I’ve heard of it somewhere. It certainly looks more promising. There’s a row of shops, a village green, and a pub—how quaint—and yes, a garage. I pull Betsy onto the forecourt, where she gives a last rattle before stopping.

An old guy in stained overalls appears through the large garage doors, wiping his hands on an oily rag. He stoops slightly and walks with a lilting gait.

“Heard you coming a mile off.” He opens.

“That bad?”

“I reckon.”

“Can you fix her?”

“Sure I can.”

“Great, thanks. I need to be on my way.”

“Ain’t going anywhere for a while.”Wait, what?

“I thought you could fix her.”

“I’ll need parts, but it’s Friday. Won’t get them this side of the weekend. It’ll be Monday if you’re lucky. Reckon you won’t be going anywhere until Tuesday.” Shit, that’s all I need—being stuck in the middle of nowhere for nearly a week.

“Can’t do it any quicker?”It’s worth a try.

“Nope, but you’re welcome to take her elsewhere—if she’ll start.”

“No,” I sigh.I’m stuck here then.“Thanks, Tuesday will be fine.” I’ll have to work out how I’m gonna pay for it later, and if I’m stuck here, I’m also gonna need a place to stay.

“Um, is there anywhere to stay in this town, til Tuesday?”

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