Page 81 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

Ceri gasped. ‘What?No! It’s none of your business. Whoareyou?’

‘Stone Alley.’

‘Who?Look, please can you get that thing out of my face.’ She was tempted to grab the camera and fling it into the road. How dare these people—

Realisation struck. Oh, God! They knew hername.They had asked her aboutDamon.

‘Stone Alley,’ the man repeated. ‘The heavy rock zine?’ He sounded sarcastic, as though he couldn’t believe that she’d made him repeat it.

Ceri was frozen. She didn’t know what to do, or what to say. Her mind was numb, her limbs leaden, and it was only when the guy demanded, ‘Is he here? Damon?Damon!’ and tried to peer past her into the cottage, that Ceri was able to move.

‘Get lost!’ she yelled and quickly backed away, slamming the door in their faces. She was trembling violently, and her heart was racing so fast she thought she might faint. A pounding on the door made her jump and was quickly followed by knuckles rapping on glass, as the horrid pair outside began knocking on her window.

With a strangled cry, she dashed to the living room window and yanked the curtains closed, and did the same to the one in the dining area. Then she hurried to lock the door, because she wouldn’t put it past them to try the handle and walk straight in.

Only when she felt marginally safer, did she turn around to rest her back against the door. Then she slid down it until she was sitting in a heap on the floor, and started to cry.

She had no idea how long she sat there weeping, but the sound of her phone ringing broke into her misery. Clambering ungainly to her feet, she went to answer it, praying it was Damon. He’d know what to do—

Shit!Damon!She had to warn him.

Ceri grabbed her mobile, but when she saw that the caller was her sister-in-law, she felt like wailing again.

‘Can I call you back?’ she said, before Rowena was able to say anything.

‘No, Ceri,don’t hang up,’ Rowena hissed. ‘There’s something going on I think you should know about. Can you hear me? I’ve got to keep my voice down.’ Rowena was speaking in a whisper. ‘I’m in Pen’s Pantry, and a man came in here a few minutes ago asking if anyone knew you, or where you live. And another chap is here now, asking the same. What’s going on, Ceri? Are you in some kind of trouble?’

Ceri let out a sob. There was no point in keeping Damon’s secret any longer, not if the likes ofStone Alleyknew, so she swiftly told Rowena everything.

‘Bloody parasites,’ Rowena snarled, after she had got over the shock of learning who Damon was.

‘What are bloody parasites, Mammy?’ Ceri heard Nia ask.

‘Mosquitoes,’ Rowena said without a pause. ‘Finish your milkshake. Sorry Ceri, little pitchers have big ears. Are they outside now?’

Ceri tweaked the curtain aside. ‘Yes.’

‘You can’t stay there, you’re a prisoner in your own home. Can you get out the back?’

‘I think so.’ Behind Rosehip Cottage was a stand of trees, and beyond that was a meadow leading down to the river.

‘OK, go now, before they stake the back out, too. Make your way to my house and we’ll figure out what to do when you get here.’

This is ridiculous, Ceri thought, as she opened her back door and stepped warily into the courtyard garden. Close to tears, she peered over the fence, but there was no one in sight, so she pulled one of the patio chairs over to it and stood on the seat. When she’d clambered over the fence and dropped to the other side, she tried calling Damon again.

She listened to the phone ring and ring, muttering, ‘Pick up, please pick up,’ but eventually gave up and sent him a message.

Reporters??!! At my door asking about you! Gone to Huw’s house to hide. Call me when you can. Love you xxx

All she could do now was wait, and pray she made it to her brother’s house without being accosted.

Three hours later, with his hair tied back, a baseball cap on his head, and sunglasses hiding his eyes, Damon drove past Foxmore’s old church and along Ceri’s road, hoping no one would realise it was him who was driving the nondescript black VW estate.

Eyes peeled, he scanned the road for strangers, and was dismayed to see a couple of what he assumed to be reporters, hanging around outside her cottage.

He was even more dismayed when he turned into Willow Tree Lane and saw more of the buggers loitering outside his house. Two vehicles were blocking the lane, so he came to a halt outside the entrance to the allotments and considered his options.

Leaving the car here and walking across the allotment to the little wooden gate would be one of them, but what would he do when he got to his house? Hide in it like a rabbit trapped in a burrow with a fox prowling around outside?

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