Page 59 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

Chapter 16

Ceri straightened up and arched her spine. It was Thursday morning and she and a dozen or so students were in the middle of marking out plots in the allotment, ready for the opening ceremony on the weekend.

Her back ached from where she had been crouching over, holding a small wooden stake in position whilst one of her students wielded a hammer. It had taken all her willpower to hold the stake firm as the lad drove it into position.

The field had recently been mowed by a delighted Terry on his sit-on mower, and the first thing the students had done when they’d arrived on site this morning was to rake the cut grass into a huge pile in the shadiest corner. It could sit there and slowly decompose, and as it did so it would provide a home for all kinds of creatures.

Next had come the tricky part of marking out the plots and this involved a great deal of measuring. Ceri wanted to make sure each plot was the same square meterage (although not all would be the same shape) and that they were equidistant, with paths between them. At present, the paths were little more than trampled grass, but over time they may be paved or gravelled. The allotment was a work in progress and would evolve and adapt over the coming years.

Ceri had provided the students with a plan for the plots, and she was trying to let them get on with laying them out by themselves, only lending a hand now and again but, in reality, she was supervising them closely.

‘This has been a brilliant exercise for them,’ Mark said, as he watched the last stake being hammered home. ‘Hands-on experience is invaluable. Well done.’

It was great to get such positive feedback regarding her teaching and although she still felt out of her depth, she wasn’t quite as anxious as she had been in the beginning.

‘Thanks, everyone,’ she said, when the tools were stowed in the boot of the minibus. ‘You’ve done a sterling job. The plotters will be pleased, and I know I am. There’s going to be an allotment opening ceremony on Sunday, so if any of you fancy coming along you’ll be more than welcome.’ However, from their bored looks and their rolled eyes, Ceri assumed that her students wouldn’t be showing their faces on the day.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she added, as they gathered their things together. ‘Don’t forget, we’ll be in polytunnel number two.’ She was about to tell them what they would be doing in there, when her phone rang. It was Damon, and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him since he had confessed to being a famous rock star, because he had been entertaining Sadie, but they had messaged each other several times a day, and she was missing him like crazy.

‘Damon, hi,’ she said, turning away in a vain attempt to grab some privacy.

‘What time will you be home from work?’

‘Actually, I’m at the allotment. We’ve just finished marking out the plots.’

‘I want to see you. Would you like to join us for dinner? Sadie would love to meet you.’

‘Not tonight. Maybe another time?’

‘Oh… OK.’

He sounded disappointed and Ceri nearly changed her mind, but she knew she would feel awkward.

‘Can I at least kiss you?’ he asked. ‘I’m at the gate. Come over, please – I need to hold you.’

Ceri’s gaze shot to the little wooden gate separating the allotment from Damon’s house and her pulse leapt when she saw him standing on the other side of it. Her lips were already tingling at the thought of his mouth on hers, and she couldn’t wait to feel his arms around her. She gave him a small wave and he waved back.

Taking a step in his direction she suddenly became aware that she had a load of students gawping at her, and she hastily said, ‘Gotta go, I need to finish up here. I’ll see you in about ten minutes.’

Thankfully Mark had loaded the kids onto the bus, so she trotted up the steps to say goodbye. She guessed they must have had enough of her for one day when only a couple of them acknowledged her; the others were either on their phones or chatting. To her surprise Portia and Eleanor still seemed to have their minds on the allotment because they were staring out of the window, their heads together as they examined their handiwork. Portia’s layout had been almost the exact match to the way the allotment had been laid out before it had fallen into disuse, and Ceri made a mental note to remember to congratulate her on handing in a good assignment.

Ceri watched the minibus bump its way out of the field and onto the lane, then she shouldered her rucksack and headed across the allotment, picking her way around the newly laid out plots.

Damon was waiting for her just inside the gate and she fell into his embrace, his lips finding hers as she closed her eyes in bliss. Being in his arms was like coming home. It felt so right, so natural, as though she belonged there.

The thought flitted through her head that it was dangerous to feel like this about a man who might be out of her life in a few weeks. The past three days since Sadie had arrived had been endless, and had left her with a physical ache in her chest, giving her a taste of what would be in store for her when he left. But she was addicted to him, so she would take what she could get now and deal with the heartache later.

And she had no doubt that her heartwouldbe broken. It was merely a question ofwhen.

Damon hadn’t jammed with anyone for ages, not since before the tour, and he was enjoying himself immensely. Like any jam session, it hadn’t been planned. He had been in the kitchen, clearing away the remnants of their meal, when he’d heard Sadie strumming some chords.

She was using one of his other guitars and when she saw him standing in the doorway, watching her, she’d jerked her chin at the Gibson.

Intrigued, he’d picked it up and began to play, and soon the two of them were running through an eclectic range of music, from soul to jazz.

But when Sadie began playing “Into the Sun”, one of the tracks on theDark Dimensionalbum, Damon hesitated.

She looked up when he didn’t follow along. ‘What’s wrong?’

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