by Sam Short
"Probably one of those awful people who think an allotment is a free superstore," said Agnes, peering into the sun. "They make me mad! They sneak around, digging up other people's hard work and stealing it! I've often said that although I'm against having them in Picklebury town centre, I sometimes think it would be prudent to have CCTV cameras fitted in the allotments. These people need to be caught!"
"Well, this one's got away," said Winston. "He's headed for the car park."
Pepper watched as the stranger scurried past another shed, looking left and right, and keeping his body low as he moved. She could make out no details, only that he wore dark clothing.
Chapter 12
“Well, whoever it is, he’s gone now,” said Winston, as the suspicious skulker reached the crest of the hill, and hurried through the gateway.
“I hate to sound selfish,” said Agnes. “But at least he didn’t steal any of our produce. We’re quite lucky having our plot all the way down here. It’s quite a walk from the car park. I don’t think I’d be wrong if I made the implication that thieves are generally a lazy breed of person.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Agnes,” said Geoffrey. “I met a lot of criminals during my forty years on the force, and if there’s one thing that they all had in common, it was the fact that each and every one of them was a lazy bugger.”
Everybody looked towards the car park as an engine roared into life, giving a spluttering cough as a cloud of smoke rose into view above the hedgerow.
“That engine doesn’t sound too healthy. Let’s hope he breaks down before he gets home with his free bag of groceries,” said Winston.
“I don’t think he was carrying a bag actually,” noted Pepper. “Although the sun was in my eyes.”
“We probably scared him away before he could steal anything,” said Geoffrey. “Good for us. We’ve done our bit for the allotment neighbourhood watch.”
As the light started to fade and the shadows grew longer, Pepper looked at the front end of her bike. “I’d better be going,” she announced. “You’re right, Geoffrey. It will be dark in half an hour, and I don’t have any lights on my bike.”
“You said you’d only recently moved into your cottage,” said Mary. “Does that mean you don’t know the area? Do you know the quickest way home?”
“Yes,” said Pepper. “I met Stan in town. It was him who told me where I could find the club. He showed me where the footpath was which leads through Horseshoe Woods. I came up the hill that way, but I think it will be easier for me to freewheel down the road on my way back.”
“I agree,” said Mary. “It would be easier, and quicker. If you’re going via the road, you’ll want to use the top gate to get out of the allotments. The others will be heading back to the community hall, but I’ve got a piece of cake in my bag for Stan. We’ll walk together, I’ll show you where the gate is.”
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mount your bicycle until you’re beyond the perimeter fences of the allotments, Pepper,” said Winston. “These narrow footpaths are not safe for two-wheeled transportation. I’d hate to see you take a fall and injure yourself or damage your bike. The allotment’s insurance policy would be extremely unlikely to pay out for an injury caused by such wanton disregard for safety.”
Pepper swallowed her smile and gave Winston a serious nod of her head. “I’ll bear it in mind,” she assured him. “Thank you for the warning.”
“And thank you for taking safety so seriously,” said Winston, his chest expanding as he stood straighter and prouder. “I wish my fellow club members were as safety conscious as you.”
Mary winked at Pepper. “Come on,” she said, stepping along a pathway which wound a route through a bed of cabbages on one side, and what Pepper guessed to be the leafy shoots of potato plants on the other. “I’ll show you where that gate is.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Pepper,” said Geoffrey, offering her a dirty hand, which she accepted and shook. “And although you’ve made it quite clear that joining our club is of no interest to you, I do hope we’ll see you about town.”
“I’m sure we will,” said Agnes. “Picklebury is a small place.”
After saying her goodbyes, Pepper followed Mary until the path widened and there was room to walk two abreast.
“You had quite the introduction to our little club,” said Mary. “I do hope you haven’t got the wrong opinion of us. Agnes sometimes says things she doesn’t mean. She suffers from a lot of pain in her lower leg which stems from injuries she received in a car crash. She often lets the pain get the better of her and lashes out. She’s a good woman, though. A nice woman.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Pepper, wheeling her bike past a coiled hosepipe which lay on the footpath like a snake ready to strike. “I don’t hold grudges. I promise. I understand why Agnes might have thought I’d stolen her purse. I actually enjoyed my time with the members of your club.”
Mary gave a broad smile. “That’s lovely to hear,” she said. The sound of a car engine reached them from the road, and Mary ducked into a low crouch as a blue estate car came into view. She shook her head and stood up straight again. “Silly me,” she said.
“Is everything okay?” asked Pepper.
Mary’s cheeks reddened. “Yes,” she said. “Everything’s fine. It’s just that…” She shook her head and slowed her pace. “I don’t know why I feel like I can tell you. I’ve never told anybody before.”
“Never told anybody what, Mary?” asked Pepper.
Mary stopped walking and turned to face Pepper. “It’s silly,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s just that when I heard that car engine, I thought it might be Dominic — you know, my husband. He picks me up from the hall after gardening club, but sometimes he gets here early.”
“Oh,” said Pepper, stopping alongside Mary and leaning on her bike. “And if it had been him, that would have been a problem because…”
“I don’t know how to say it,” said Mary. “I’ve never had to say it out loud before, and it sounds so silly when I say it to myself. I’m such a lucky woman, and Dominic has been such a wonderful husband, it’s just that…”
“Just that what?” asked Pepper, gently. “You can say it.”
Mary put a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Oh, no, it’s not what you think! I can see from the look on your face that you think he hurts me. He doesn’t — I promise. He does raise his voice a lot though, and he likes to have a say in what clothes I wear, and who I speak to and how I speak to them. When I heard that car engine, I thought Dominic was going to catch me visiting Stan again. I like Stan, you see. I know he’s brash and rude, but he’s nice, and I like seeing the look on his face when he eats my baking. He has no wife, you see? He has nobody at home to bake him a cake or a few biscuits.”
“But your husband doesn’t like you interacting with Stan?” asked Pepper.
“No,” said Mary. “It’s so silly. I’ve been married to him for fifteen years and he’s always been so trusting and kind. He changed though. About two months ago he became a totally different man. He became nasty, and paranoid about what I was doing and who I was speaking to. He says he doesn’t like men who use innuendos or take part in what I know is only harmless flirting, and he says I shouldn’t speak to Stan. Stan must be thirty years older than me, though, and even if he weren’t, I took a vow. I promised I’d stay with Dominic for the rest of my life. I trust Dominic, I wish he’d trust me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” said Pepper. She wasn’t lying. The sort of conversation she was having right now was one of the main reasons that the only people who made her telephone ring were her sister, her parents, and annoying salespeople who sounded like they were telephoning from somewhere far away overseas. That didn’t mean Pepper wouldn’t have a serious conversation; it just meant that she liked to wrap them up as quickly as possible.
“You don’t have to say anything,” said Mary. “You can’t give me the solution to any pro
blems I might have. The solution to one’s problems must come from within.”
Pepper frowned and licked her lips as she squeezed one of the bike’s brake levers. “What I would say, is that although he’s not hurting you physically, he is affecting you mentally. Nobody should control you, Mary.”
“Oh, I know,” said Mary, placing what looked like a forced smile on her face. “I’m being silly. He’s worried about paying for the church roof repairs. He’s probably just got himself all stressed out about that. I’m sure he’ll revert to the Dominic I married when the stress has lifted.” She patted the bag which hung from her shoulder. “I’d better take this piece of cake to Stan, his shed’s over there on the right, you need to keep following this path until you get to that tiny shed at the top of the hill. You’ll find a small gate in the fence behind it. Give it a good tug, and it will open.”
Pepper nodded. “Thank you, Mary,” she said, taking a few steps along the path. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Perhaps you should speak to somebody else about what you’ve just told me. Somebody you trust.”
“Maybe I will,” said Mary. “I feel silly for mentioning it. I know I needn’t ask, but you do promise you won’t tell anybody what we talked about?”
“I give you my word,” said Pepper.
“Why do I feel like your word can be trusted so much?” asked Mary. “There’s something very trustworthy about you, Pepper.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Pepper. “But I appreciate the kind words. You take care of yourself, Mary.”
“You too,” said Mary, following the path which led towards the little shed in the distance, which Pepper had seen Stan arguing outside when she’d first arrived at the allotments.
Not one for prolonged goodbyes, a quality which she admired in the Americans she watched on television, Pepper continued walking.
Despite the depressing course her conversation with Mary had taken, she was still able to enjoy the sights and scents that the allotment gardens offered as the sky reddened and the light dimmed.
Heading towards the little shed which Mary had pointed out, she began making plans for the strawberries which lay in the bike’s basket, beneath her bag.
Just as she was attempting to recall a good cheesecake recipe, the silence was suddenly broken by a piercing scream which echoed across the allotments.
Birds gave panicked cries as they took flight from the trees which surrounded the gardens, and Pepper swivelled on the spot, almost dropping her bike, and looked towards the source of the sound.
Another scream followed the first, and Pepper allowed her bike to fall into the bed of crops next to her and began running as fast as she could towards Mary, who let out another scream as she backed away from Stan’s little shed.
“What is it, Mary?” panted Pepper, no longer following footpaths, but sprinting through neat beds of crops and pushing her way past tall bean plants.
A few seconds of silence, and then Mary shouted her reply. “He’s dead! Stan is dead!”
Chapter 13
It seemed that Mary’s scream had not only attracted the attention of Pepper. Hurrying towards the allotments from the direction of Upper Picklebury Community Hall, were Geoffrey and Winston, followed by Agnes who hobbled as she lagged behind the men.
Also approaching Stan’s shed were the young couple who’d been drinking wine together. It was Pepper who arrived at Mary’s side first, though.
She put a hand on the woman’s trembling shoulder and looked into her white face. “What’s happened?” she said, not wanting to find out for herself without a little pre-warning.
“An accident,” mumbled Mary. “He’s had an accident. Stan is dead, Pepper. He’s dead.”
After helping Mary into a sitting position alongside the shed, Pepper made her way cautiously to the front of the small wooden building. Miraculously recalling the first-aid training she’d taken when she was a Girl Scout, she knew that accepting Mary’s diagnosis of death would be the wrong thing to do. Stan might be critically injured, even very close to death, but Pepper had to find the courage required to find out for herself.
As concerned voices drifted towards her, and the crunch of footsteps approached, Pepper peered around the side of the shed. The door was wide open, propped in position by a short piece of timber, and protruding from the doorway, toes towards the ground, was a pair of muddy boots.
Taking a deep breath, Pepper approached the doorway and found the courage to look inside. She put a hand to her mouth when she saw the scene which was waiting for her. As if she were watching a film in slow motion, Pepper’s mind seemed to focus on the smallest of details, while filtering out the sobs of Mary and the concerned voices of the other people who approached the shed.
First, she noticed that one of Stan’s shoelaces was caught in an inch long crack in the wood at the base of the doorway. Then, as she allowed her eyes to follow Stan’s body, she noticed that his arms were splayed outward — as if he’d been trying to break his fall. Then, as Pepper stepped inside the shed and approached Stan’s head, she saw the blood.
Wanting to hear her own voice, as if it would provide her with company, Pepper called out to the man she knew was dead. She bent down and moved a shaking hand towards the back of his neck. “Stan?” she said, knowing she’d get no answer. “Stan? Can you hear me?”
The back of Stan’s neck was still warm to the touch, giving Pepper a little hope that he may have still been alive, but as she worked her fingers around his neck and found his throat, all hope left her when no pulse pumped beneath her fingertips.
As she stood up, and her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the cluttered shed, she began to make sense of what had happened. She stared in horror and disbelief at the sharp prongs on either side of Stan’s head, and gave a gasp of horror when she realised what she was looking at.
She put a hand to her mouth and turned towards the doorway, just as Geoffrey crunched his way across the small patch of gravel which Stan had set a single chair and table on, complete with a newspaper and a thermos flask.
Pepper shook her head as she looked at the ex-policeman. “He’s dead,” she said. “His shoelace caught on the doorway, and he tripped.” She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, before looking at Geoffrey again. “There was a rake on the floor with its prongs upward. His forehead…” She stopped speaking and shook her head. “It’s awful.”
“What’s happened?” asked the young woman who’d been happily drinking wine less than an hour earlier.
“There’s been an accident. Stan’s dead,” said Geoffrey. He patted the pocket of his trousers, looking perplexed. “Has anybody got their phone with them?”
“I’ve got mine,” said Winston, helping Agnes navigate a rough piece of ground. He took his phone from his pocket and proceeded to tap at the screen before bringing it to his ear. “Hello. I need an ambulance and the police at Picklebury allotment gardens.” He paused for a moment, before speaking again. “There’s been an accident, I think a man has died.”
As Winston continued his phone call, the male wine drinker approached the shed door. “I’m training to be a doctor,” he said, his face white. “I’ve only just started medical college, but I know enough to be able to help him if he is still alive.”
“I don’t think he is,” said Pepper, standing aside as the young man swiped his long black fringe from his eyes with a dirty hand.
The man nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, but I’d better check.”
As the young man entered the shed, and everybody else gathered around, comforting each other as Mary continued to make soft sobbing sounds, Pepper blew out a long breath and leaned against the side of the shed.
She let out another long breath as her back pressed against the thick stems of the climbing plant which twisted a route through the wooden trellis which Stan had attached to the shed wall.
As she closed her eyes and allowed her hands to fall to her sides, her fingers made contact with the plant. I
nstantly, the plant’s vibes flooded Pepper’s body, and she concentrated on them, allowing them to dilute the awful images of Stan lying dead on his shed floor which were imprinted on her mind.
At first, Pepper learned superficial information from the plant. It had been planted facing the wrong direction, it told her through vibes, which while not language, clearly communicated the plant’s experiences to somebody who knew how to listen to it.
Never having benefited from the correct amount of sunlight, the plant had struggled throughout its time on the trellis. The plant told her more. It told her that it had only managed to fruit at a low level of its potential, and had never truly enjoyed the soil it was planted in.
Pepper looked to her left, and amongst the leaves and stalks, she spotted a small white grape. Alone on a thin twig, its neighbours shrivelled or taken by birds, the single piece of fruit could not be described as a bunch. “So,” whispered Pepper. “You’re a grapevine, and you’re facing the wrong way. You’re supposed to be facing south, especially in this country, but you’re facing north.”
The plant didn’t answer, of course it didn’t, but it continued to emit vibes, and it would do so for every second of every day — even when Pepper wasn’t around to make sense of them. It was just what plants did.
As Pepper took deep breaths, using the plant to help calm the shock which burned her mind, she began sensing more from the grapevine — something recent, something dark. Something wrong.
Aware that the trainee doctor had emerged from the shed and announced that Stan was indeed dead, Pepper continued to decipher the secret messages which the plant offered her.
She closed her eyes tighter and wrapped her fingers around one of the plant’s thick stems. And then, just like the image of the two deer feeding below the oak tree had flashed across her mind, she saw what had happened to Stan.
No, that was wrong. She couldn’t see what had happened to him, but by making sense of the changes in air pressure and the vibrations in the ground which the plant had very recently experienced, she managed to paint a murky picture.