Page 65 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

Ceri’s squeal of glee when they approached the tea rooms and she saw a shop selling plants next to it, made him laugh. Her enthusiasm and delight was catching, and he found himself just as enthused and delighted.

‘We’ll come back to these later,’ he said, dragging her away. ‘We don’t want to be carting plants around with us.’ He had to kiss her to persuade her he was right, but he suspected that she wanted to be kissed anyway. When he’d got her full attention, he reluctantly withdrew. There would be plenty of time for that this evening when they got home.

After a restorative slice of the most delicious Battenberg cake he had ever tasted (it had been a favourite of the sisters who had bought the property in 1937) and a pot of tea, Damon was ready for a look around the house and gardens. Ceri opted for the gardens first (no surprise there) so, holding hands, they wandered among the more formal part of the grounds.

Formal wasn’t strictly correct, however. Although some of the garden was reminiscent of a Tudor hedge garden, most of it was an English cottage garden. It was so very like his own had been in its heyday, that it took his breath away.

Visitors could be mistaken for thinking that Plas yn Rhiw’s grounds had been left to its own devices, but he was well aware of how much hard work went into making a garden look as beautiful as this. It was bursting with colour, and not just from the flowers. Ceri pointed out the huge variety of leaves in so many vibrant shades of green, from tiny feathery ones to magnificent palmate ones larger than a child’s padding pool, plus the many coloured stems ranging from green and brown, through to yellow, red and even black. The garden was also brimming with insects, bees and butterflies primarily, and he ducked when an enormous bumblebee sailed past his head.

This was what his grandmother’s garden used to look like when he was younger, and this was how he wanted it to look like again. Ceri’s prediction that the visit would revitalise his enthusiasm, which had waned slightly due to the sheer enormity of the task ahead of him, was correct.

Arms around each other’s waists, Damon and Ceri explored the wildflower meadow and native fruit orchard at the back of the house, then finally strolled around the manor house itself.

Damon vowed to come back. He had a suspicion he hadn’t seen everything, and although he might have gained an overall impression of the garden, most of the details had escaped him as there had simply been far too much to take in all at once.

‘I’m not ready to go home yet,’ Ceri announced, snuggling into him as they retraced their steps to the car. ‘Besides, I’m hungry. How about we stop off somewhere for a late lunch?’

‘Sounds good to me.’ He didn’t want to go home yet, either.

‘Fish and chips on the beach?’ she suggested.

‘Perfect.’

Damon expected Ceri to drive to the nearest seaside town, which happened to be Abersoch, but they sailed on past. They also drove straight past Pwllheli, and he had begun to wonder whether she had changed her mind and was taking them back to Foxmore, when she finally turned off into the lovely town of Criccieth.

‘Why Criccieth?’ he asked, as she hunted for a parking space.

‘It’s got a ruined castle and a beach,’ she informed him.

‘A ruined castle, eh? Very romantic,’ he teased. ‘You just want to kiss me on the battlements. Ow!’

Ceri had punched him on the arm, and he rubbed the spot ruefully. She had a mean right hook on her and he didn’t think she had put her full weight behind it, either. Must be all that spadework she did.

‘There’s nothing wrong with romance,’ she said pointedly. ‘You ought to try it sometime.’

‘Are you accusing me of being unromantic?’

‘If the cap fits…’ She arched a brow.

‘I can be romantic,’ he protested, but his reply was ruined when his tummy rumbled loudly.

Ceri burst out laughing. ‘Of course you can,’ she giggled. ‘Let’s get you fed before you fade away.’

Damon was too hungry to object, so they went in search of a fish and chip shop, then found a bench on a grassy area overlooking the beach with a view of the castle to sit and eat their belated lunch, washing down the hot vinegary chips and fluffy battered cod with cold cans of fizzy pop.

‘This takes me back,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had fish and chips at the seaside since I was a boy.’

‘Usually eat in fancy restaurants, do you?’

‘I wish!’ If he was honest, upmarket restaurants didn’t appeal to him much, apart from special occasions. This was far more fun and just as tasty.

Ceri licked her fingers, then bundled up the remains of her meal.

He said, ‘Wait, you’ve got…’ He was about to brush some grains of salt from her lips when he decided to kiss them away instead. ‘Mmm, salty,’ he said, eventually coming up for air.

‘Shut up and kiss me again,’ she ordered, digging her fingers into his hair and tugging his head back down to hers.

‘I think we’d better carry on with this at home,’ Damon said after a few minutes. ‘We’re a bit too old to be snogging on a bench.’

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