Page 72 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

‘Well, I never! You learn something new every day!’ Mrs Moxley exclaimed. ‘If I’d have known that, I would have given you a clip around the ear – and your dad, too. What was he thinking, letting you go down to the river on your own?’

‘I expect he was thinking that he didn’t want a bored kid mooching around and getting under his feet.’

Mrs Moxley pursed her lips. ‘You didn’t let your Rachel play down by the river.’ She turned to Ceri. ‘She’s Janice’s eldest.’

Janice rolled her eyes. ‘They were different times when I was a kid, Mam. Anyway, I know what can happen, so no, she never went down there on her own. I remember falling in once, and Merton Rogers had to pull me out. We went back to his house so I could dry off, because I knew you’d do your nut if I came home soaked to the skin.’

‘I can’t believe Hyacinth used to let her Merton go down to the river by himself.’

‘She didn’t. He used to tell her that he was going to Sharon Williams’s house to play, and Sharon used to tellhermum she was coming toours– so if anyone’s mam or dad asked, you would all think we were at someone else’s house.’

‘You sneaky little baggage. Wait until I see Sharon. Actually, I’ll have a word with Bernie now – he can deal with her.’

‘Mam, Sharon isn’t a kid anymore, she’s the same age as me.’

‘A father can still tell his daughter off, no matter how old she gets. And so can a mam. Now, scoot, before I give you a clip around the ear for worrying me like that.’

Janice laughed. ‘I didn’t worry you! You didn’t know a thing about it.’

‘I do now, so I’m going to worry in retrospect.’

‘Mams, eh?’ Janice rolled her eyes again as she watched her mother totter across the field. ‘They never stop worrying. You’ve not got any kids, have you?’

‘Er, no, I haven’t,’ Ceri said, and caught her breath when an image of a curly-haired child with Damon’s eyes and her nose, popped into her head.

Suddenly she was desperate to be held by him and to hear him say how much he loved her, but Janice was still speaking and Ceri didn’t like to cut her off.

‘Mam is so pleased to have an allotment on Willow Tree Lane again. She hasn’t stopped talking about it. Not only did my dad love it here, so it brings back memories of him, but Mam and Hyacinth were really good friends, especially after my dad died. Heart attack,’ she added. ‘He smoked like a trooper and drank like a fish, but none of us expected him to go so soon. Well, you don’t, do you?’ Janice sighed, her gaze still on her mum. The old lady was laughing at something Bernie was saying, and Ceri smiled.

Finally, after some more small talk, Ceri was able to make her escape, and with her mood considerably improved, she dashed home for a shower.

If she hurried, she could be at Damon’s house in fifteen minutes and in his bed a second or two after that…

Ceri skipped along the lane towards Willow Tree House, thinking that leaping into bed might have to wait because she was famished, and she hoped Damon had planned something nice for their tea. He was surprisingly good in the kitchen, and she was more than happy to have him cook for her.

But when she rang the bell there wasn’t any answer, and trying the door revealed it to be locked. However, the gate at the side of the house leading to the garden wasn’t, so she strolled through it and went around the back.

‘Damon? Damon?’ she called, but the only sounds came from a group of squabbling sparrows and the bees crawling over the honeysuckle growing around the kitchen door.

She stepped inside, but after a quick search she realised he must be in the garden and she finally found him sitting in the potting shed, one of Hyacinth’s journals in his lap. He barely looked up when she appeared in the doorway.

‘Hiya,’ she said hesitantly, seeing how engrossed he was.

Damon blinked and he glanced up absently, before his gaze focused on her. ‘Hi. Is it that time already?’

‘Good reading?’ she asked, surprised he had lost track of time. Although to be fair, she would have done the same if she had been reading them. How wonderful to be able to read the history of the garden like this.

‘Interestingreading.’ His expression was thoughtful.

‘Oh?’ she replied, inviting him to say more as she leant her bum against the potting bench.

‘These journals aren’t just about how well Gran’s fuchsias coped with the summer of ’76.’ He held up the one in his lap. ‘It contains snippets of her private life.’ He put it down again. ‘I never knew my grandad. My dad didn’t know him, either. Gran told Dad that he’d died before he was born.’ Damon hesitated, and she briefly wondered why the change of subject, until he continued… ‘But according to this, he was still alive and kicking twenty years ago.’ He tapped the journal’s cover.

Ceri frowned. ‘Any idea why she lied?’

‘He was married. She was having an affair with him and got pregnant. My father was the result.’

‘Who was he?’

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