Page 37 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

‘The way you thought I was touting for business when I suggested you might want to think about employing a professional gardener?’ she shot back.

Damon flinched. ‘I’m sorry about that. I just assumed… You said you’ve got a job – would that be as a gardener?’

‘Why? Do you want to employ me?’

Damon, not sure what to say to that, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

‘Just kidding,’ she said, with a wry twist of her lips. ‘I teach horticulture at the agricultural college.’ A frown marred her brow. ‘At least, that’s what I’m employed to do. I feel like a fraud though. Iamjust a gardener, not a proper teacher.’

‘I bet you’re a great teacher,’ he replied, gallantly.

‘I’m a scared teacher,’ she retorted. ‘I’m as far out of my comfort zone as a tortoise up a tree would be. I’ve had the day from hell and I’m this close to packing it in.’ She held her index finger and thumb a centimetre apart.

That explains the wine, the pinched expression and the frown line,Damon thought.

Hoping to make her smile, he said, ‘Have you heard oftortoisus clamberosus? No? It’s a rare breed of tree-climbing tortoise… Seriously, they wouldn’t have employed you if they didn’t believe you could do the job.’

‘That’s what Huw says. But he’s my brother, so he’s biased.’

‘He’s right, though.’

‘I hope so. It’s all so new to me: schemes of work, assessments, pastoral support. When I first heard that term, I thought it had something to do with pastures and fields, but it refers to the students’ wellbeing outside of their actual course.’

‘Are you enjoying it?’ he asked.

‘Not really. I’ve bitten off far more than I can chew, I haven’t got a clue what I’m supposed to be doing, and to top it all off I had a run-in with a parent today. But it’s a job and I need the money. At least it pays well, so if I can stick at it, one day I might save up enough to open my own nursery.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not sure how realistic that is, but I’m kind of making a start, so your compost offer will come in very handy. Thank you.’

‘In what way are you making a start?’ Damon was curious.

‘It’s only a small start, because I’ll only have one plot just like everyone else, but I know from experience that I’ll grow more than I can use myself, whether it be vegetables or flowers, so I’m hoping to be able to sell the surplus.’

‘What plot?’ he asked.

‘Keep it to yourself for the time being,’ she said, her eyes lighting up, making her whole face glow, ‘but Foxmore is going to have an allotment once again. You’re probably aware that your grandmother was the driving force behind the allotment on Willow Tree Lane, but when she passed away I believe it fell into disuse; at least, that’s what Terry told me.’

It took Damon a moment to recall that Terry was the name of Foxmore’s vicar. Hyacinth used to think the world of him, and when she died Terry had presided over her funeral. Damon couldn’t remember a great deal about it, he had been too upset, but he did recall how kindly the man had been.

Ceri was saying, ‘I had hoped to use the field myself, but Terry wanted it to be a community space, and he’s happy for me to have a plot as long as the field is turned back into an allotment. So that’s what I mean by starting small.’

Damon was horrified. The last thing he wanted was a load of people grubbing about in the field behind his house. He knew it was selfish, because he remembered how much joy the allotment had brought his grandmother, and he was sure it would bring the same amount of pleasure to numerous other people, but the events of the recent past were still very raw and very much in the forefront of his mind. The thought of people being so close to his house made him shiver. What if one of them recognised him, and the press or the band’s fans found out where he was hiding?

‘Why do I need to keep it to myself for the time being?’ he asked, hoping that the deal wasn’t done and dusted. Maybe there was some legality with the church and the use of the land that had to be worked through first? By the time that happened, he would probably have returned to London, even though the thought made him feel sick.

Ceri said, ‘I’m hoping for a couple of weeks of peace before the plotters descend on it, because I’m planning on giving my students an assignment which would involve designing an allotment. Plus, I’m going to have to measure up and stake out the various plots before they are allocated. You can’t just have people turning up and starting to dig willy-nilly. Ideally all the plots would need to be the same size, equidistant, and some will be more desirable than others.’

Despite his aversion to having the field on Willow Tree Lane turned back into an allotment, Damon was curious. His grandmother had lived and breathed this stuff, and a part of him would like to see the allotment come back to life. He knew that Hyacinth, if she was looking down, would be nodding her approval of Ceri’s plan.

‘I take it the plot nearer the hedgerows would be the least desirable ones?’ he guessed.

‘Some, but not all. It depends on how much sunlight they get. Yes, the plots around the perimeter of the field will be shaded for some part of the day, but some are more shaded than others, and there’s also the issue of some of the larger hedges taking all the nutrients and moisture, so the soil around them will be somewhat depleted.’

‘Hence the compost?’

‘It won’t be nearly enough, but it will be a start. The good thing is that the field has been left alone since it ceased being an allotment. It’s not as though it’s been used to grow crops, although it would have been handy if sheep or cattle had been allowed to graze it. Never mind, I’m sure Alex Harris from the farm up the road will be more than happy for me to get rid of some of his slurry for him.’

Damon shuddered: slurry was not a nice word. But he understood that manure would improve the soil quality immensely. ‘You’re going to need barrowloads of the stuff,’ he predicted.

‘Probably. I’m hoping I can sweet-talk him into bringing a few tractor-loads down, and if I promise him a couple of pints in The Jolly Fox, he might even spread it over the plots for me. On second thoughts, your compost is too nice to dig into the soil. It should be used for sowing seedlings, or for potting on. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to shift it. I’ll do it. Can you give me a couple of days? I’ve got to sort out somewhere to put it.’

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