Page 40 of Rough Around the Hedges

“Everyone is rightfully angry,” I said. “But they seem enthusiastic to help us. Over half the plot holders signed up to be interviewed by the media, and almost everyone said they wouldcontribute to the pop-up market. Someone even suggested we sell more than just our produce.”

Mum nodded. “It’s a good idea. There are a lot of creatives who have plots. How often do you see Susan sitting with her crocheting, for example?”

She had a point. “Wouldn’t that make it more of a craft fair than anything?”

“What better way to show the value of Hanbury’s community than a craft fair full of local businesses? Make it clear that the idea is to raise funds to save the allotments, and I’m sure you’ll have a lot of donations. You’ll also publicise your predicament to other local businesses who may be willing to help.”

“Yeah, but the space we can use outside the allotments isn’t that big.”

“So, use the market space in the middle of town.”

“Do you really think that calendar isn’t fully booked?”

“It’s not.” Mum smiled. “There’s not a market there every day, is there? Let me see what I can do.”

“I feel as though you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“Nonsense. Let me help you.”

“You know, all ideas should be run by the committee first. I should—”

Mum raised her eyebrows. “You’re the head of the committee. Why don’t you just give me permission and be done with it?”

“But I—”

“Rose.”

I rubbed my left eye. She really was the only person who could shut me up with one word. “Fine. Go ahead. I’ll let everyone know.”

“Good girl.” She got up and kissed the top of my head. “I’m off to bed, then. Don’t stay up too late, sweetie.”

“Night, Mum.” I watched her go and shook my head.

And everyone wondered how I’d ended up with such a strong personality.

It was her.

All. Her.

UNKNOWN: Rose, I would like for us to talk.

I blinked at my phone. Wasn’t this how horror movies started? This was a death flag, right?

There was no way this wasn’t a stalker.

ME: Who are you and how did you get this number?

There.

I would neither confirm nor deny my identity.

Not that it mattered if this horror movie villain had my phone number.

UNKNOWN: From the allotment paperwork, of course.

UNKNOWN: And it’s Oliver de Havilland.

Look at that. I wasn’t wrong in my identification of the sender after all. If anyone in my life was a horror movie villain, it was most certainly the man behind this message.

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