Page 45 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

She envied them. She wished she could leave too, but she had a departmental meeting this afternoon. With another day drawing to a close, Ceri blew out her cheeks, congratulating herself on getting through it, yet realising that a couple of weeks was hardly long enough to begin to feel comfortable in any job, let alone one that was so radically different to anything she had done previously.

Telling herself that it would get better, she made a coffee in the staffroom and then headed to Mark’s office. On the way, she quickly checked her phone. She hadn’t been expecting to see any messages from Damon, but she was disappointed, nevertheless. As promised, she had sent him details of a couple of tree surgeons in the area, and he had messaged her back to thank her. It had all been very friendly and polite, and she honestly didn’t know what she had been expecting. She’d helped him with his driveway and he’d given her about twenty barrowloads of compost, so their deal was done.

But for a moment, just as she had been taking her leave of him on Saturday evening, she’d got the impression he was about to kiss her. He hadn’t, and although there was no further reason for him to contact her, somehow she had expected more. It was typical that the only man she hadn’t found fault with was the one who wasn’t interested in her.

Oh, well, so be it. It was probably for the best: she had enough to keep her occupied with this new job and the allotment. She was rushed off her feet as it was, so trying to shoehorn a romance into her hectic life wouldn’t be a good idea.

However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had missed an opportunity. If only she had been a little bolder and had kissed him, rather than hoping he would kiss her…

‘Hi, I’ve come about your trees,’ a woman said when Damon answered the door. A van was on the drive with the word‘Treemendous’ emblazoned on the side.

‘Great! Thanks for coming at such short notice,’ he said, stepping outside. He had taken the precaution of shoving his hair up inside a baseball cap, and he had a pair of reading glasses on his nose. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and dark stubble blurred the lines of his face, so he hoped he wouldn’t be recognised.

He said, ‘As I told you on the phone, I’m not worried about any one tree in particular – I just want to make sure they’re safe and not going to come crashing down in the next high wind.’

‘Very wise. Although I can’t guarantee that there won’t be any casualties, I’ll do my very best to ensure their health and stability. If it’s OK with you, I’ll remove any dead or decaying branches now, and if I see any tree that I think needs to be lopped, I’ll discuss it with you first.’

‘Lopped? As in chopped down?’

‘Tidied up. Some species can get top heavy and run the risk of toppling, so it’s better to lop off a few branches now to give it more stability, rather than waiting until the damage is done.’ She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke; her attention was on the trees flanking the drive. ‘If I deem anything to be dangerous, I’ll remove it immediately, but if not, I’ll come back later in the year, around October time, and do the rest of the work then,’ adding, ‘birds are still nesting,’ when she noticed his frown.

‘Of course! I didn’t think of that. As long as a branch doesn’t fall on the guy who delivers my groceries, that’s all I’m worried about.’

‘Leave it to me,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you a shout when I’ve done my initial assessment.’

Damon took the hint and went back indoors. She didn’t need him peering over her shoulder. And while he waited for her to do her thing, he sent a message to Ceri.

Tree surgeon arrived. Waiting for verdict.

Followed by a worried-face emoji.

Her response was instantaneous – a couple of tree emojis and a fingers-crossed one.

OK, so at least she hadn’t ignored him. It wasn’t the most promising start to the conversation, though.

He tried again.

Can I buy you dinner on Friday? As a thank you?

No need to thank me.

Can I buy you dinner anyway?

Ceri’s reply took a little longer, but when it came, his spirits soared: she’d said yes.

And now he was left to wonder whether he was playing with fire, because his reaction had told him that he was far more invested in her than was wise.

On Thursday morning, Ceri jumped out of the mini-bus and opened the gate to allow Mark to drive the vehicle onto the field. She was feeling nervous because this was her show – Mark was only here to drive the bus – and she was dreadfully conscious that he would be observing her teach and she was scared of being found wanting. What if he thought she was no good? What if she made a total hash of it?

Her students tumbled out, chattering excitedly, and she was pleased to see them already making observations, so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Ceri began by reminding them of the parameters of their assignment and setting some expectations, and then she let them loose, trusting them to get on with it by themselves. She would be around to help or to answer any questions, but she wanted this to be their own work as much as possible.

‘It’s got a good open aspect,’ Mark said, gazing around the field. ‘I wouldn’t mind a plot here, myself.’

‘Do you live nearby?’

‘No, three miles outside Dolgellau.’

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