Page 70 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

‘No problem.’

‘I mean it, Damon. They might be awkward, otherwise.’

‘I promise I won’t say a word to anyone. My lips are sealed.’ There was no one he would want to tell anyway, apart from Ceri. His parents wouldn’t give a toss.

‘What about those unfinished tracks?’ Frank asked.

‘We’ll get them done. We owe it to Aiden. Sadie has offered to take his place on bass, if necessary.’

‘That’s good. I’ll have a word with her, too, make sure she knows the score about keeping it confidential for now.’ Frank let out a sigh. ‘Got any dates in mind? I’ll need to book studio time.’

Damon said, ‘I’m easy. Ask Luke when you speak to him. He’ll be back in the country in a couple of days – I’ll fit in with whatever you want.’ He paused, then said cautiously, ‘Um, Frank, I’ve got a favour to ask. I’ve been writing some songs and I wondered if you’d have a listen?’

‘You have? That’s fantastic news. Maybe we could tack them onto this new album?’

‘No.Absolutely not! Believe me when I tell you that you wouldn’t want Black Hyacinth to record this stuff.’

‘Don’t put yourself down,’ Frank said. ‘I know you used to bounce ideas off Aiden, but ultimately all of Black Hyacinth’s music was written by you.’

‘I don’t think the fans would be too happy withthis,’ Damon said dryly.

Frank was silent for a moment, then he asked, ‘Why not?’

‘Let’s say they’re more ballad than rock.’

‘So? Black Hyacinth have sung ballads before.’

‘Not like this. Think more Eric Carmen’s “All by Myself” and less “Dark Dimension”.’

Although “Dark Dimension” was slightly more mainstream than most of their other stuff, it was still gritty and raw, more grunge than rock, and Damon was pretty sure that the band’s die-hard fans would be less than pleased. Not only did he not want to add any fresh material to the new album, he also didn’t want to dilute the band’s memory by introducing work that Aidan hadn’t been a part of.

Damon said, ‘I was thinking that maybe you could continue to be my agent?’

‘You’re thinking of going in that direction?’ Frank sounded surprised.

‘Maybe, if they’re any good.’ If they weren’t, Damon would have to come up with something else to do with the rest of his life.

‘OK, look, send them over, yeah? I’ll have a listen and tell you what I think. I’m not promising anything, you understand.’

Damon understood. Although he had written most of the material for Black Hyacinth, writing stuff to sell was a different market, especially in a genre he wasn’t renowned for.

When he got off the phone, relief that the call had gone better than expected made him feel all hot and bothered, so he decided to take a shower.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he bounded onto the landing and was about to dive into his bedroom when a movement outside caught his eye, and he paused.

The landing window overlooked the allotment and, more importantly, the little wooden gate separating it from his own garden, and he could have sworn he had just seen someone slip through it.Twosomeone’s in fact, and he scowled. He hadn’t got around to putting a padlock on it yet, but he would remedy that tomorrow. And to make doubly sure that the plotters realised that this was private property and not part of the allotment, he would order a Keep Out, Private Property sign. That should do the trick. In the meantime, he needed to usher whoever it was out of his garden; he wasn’t ready for his cover to be blown just yet.

Cross, he turned around and went back downstairs, but when he went outside there was no one to be seen.

Chapter 19

Ceri stuck her foot on the crossbars of the fork and lent all her weight on it, digging the tines deep into the soil and wiggling them around to try and loosen the damn dandelion root. She knew it was pointless leaving it there, because it would only regrow. It was better she removed it now, before she planted anything, rather than have to do it later.

She’d had a particularly trying day at work, so instead of going straight to Willow Tree House where Damon would be waiting for her, she was currently taking out her angst on this particularly stubborn root. She wanted to see him, but not while she felt so curmudgeonly, and she knew she would feel better after an hour or so of cross digging.

There was no single reason for her bad temper, just a cumulation of little things, from dropping her mug and breaking the handle, to being asked to redo her end-of-year reports because they didn’t follow the college’s format. Mark had apologised profusely for not giving her a template to work from, but she could see that he was up to his eyes in departmental reports, so she forgave him. It didn’t make the situation any easier though; she had worked so hard on them over the previous week that being told they needed to be redone the minute she’d walked through the door this morning had sent her into another spiral of self-doubt. And that was the last thing she needed first thing on a Monday morning.

Which was why she was digging over the rest of her plot and getting madder by the second with this sodding root.

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