Page 83 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

Huw held her up. ‘Let’s get you inside,’ he said, glancing worriedly up and down the road.

Ceri allowed her brother to lead her into the house, where he relinquished her into Rowena’s tender care.

‘Take Nia to my mother’s,’ Rowena instructed him, ‘and stay there for a bit. I reckon Ceri needs a bit of space.’ Rowena waited until Huw and Nia had left before she said, ‘I hope no one spotted Damon – I don’t want those bloody parasites knocking onmydoor. What did he say?’

Ceri’s tears had finally dried, replaced by a terrifying emptiness. She felt hollowed out, as though her very soul had been sucked out of her. ‘He never wants to see me again.’

‘Why?’

‘He said “how could you?”.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘He thinksItold them. Or told someone, who told them. He thinks I betrayed him.’

‘You wouldn’t do that! You didn’t even tell Huw, your own brother.’

‘I know.’

‘What’s his phone number? I’ll put him straight.’

Ceri wordlessly handed her the phone. She doubted whether Damon would answer, but the fact that Rowena was prepared to try made her want to cry again.

‘It’s dead,’ Rowena said. ‘Did you bring your charger?’

Ceri shook her head. She had only thought to bring herself.

‘I haven’t got one to fit this,’ her sister-in-law said, examining the charging jack.

‘It doesn’t matter. I won’t be calling him, and he certainly won’t be calling me.’ The only way she would hear Damon’s voice again would be when she heard his music on the radio. She swallowed hard, remembering last night and the hauntingly beautiful songs he had played for her.

Blowing out her cheeks and holding herself together by the thinnest of threads, Ceri said, ‘There is something you could do for me though, if you wouldn’t mind…?’

‘Anything. What is it?’

‘Call Terry. He needs to know that the church doesn’t own the allotment on Willow Tree Lane – Damon does. And he wants everyone off his property today.’

And with that, Ceri collapsed into floods of tears again. Not only had she lost the man she loved, she’d let everyone who had a plot in the allotment on Willow Tree Lane down.

The car ate the miles as Damon blindly headed as far away from Foxmore as he could. He had no particular destination in mind – he simply wanted to put enough distance between him and Ceri so that he would stop thinking about her.

In reality, he knew it was impossible. No matter how far he travelled, his heart would still be in Foxmore. It belonged to Ceri, all seven million pieces of it.

But he couldn’t stop driving and it was only the threat of running out of petrol that forced him to slow down and pull into a garage.

As he filled up the tank, he wondered where he was and was surprised to discover that he had driven almost as far as Anglesey. The coastal town of Conwy was only a short distance away.

He paid for his fuel and purchased a couple of bottles of water. His throat was dry and his eyes burned, but the water did little to help, despite drinking a whole bottle.

Blindly, he got back behind the wheel and carried on driving.

Morfa Beach was a stretch of golden sand, and although it was high summer, it was mostly deserted.

Damon got out of the car, staring at the sea. He had no idea how he had ended up here, but it was as good a place as any.

A ridge of grassy dunes led down onto the beach and he stumbled through them until he found a spot to sit. Sinking onto the warm sand, he lay back, one arm above his head, and listened to the silence. The only sounds were the waves, the wind sighing gently through the grass and the distant cry of gulls.

Ceri would have loved this.

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