Ivy Lane: Summer: Part 2

by Cathy Bramley

  He was sitting at an ancient computer pecking away furiously at the keyboard with two fingers. He lowered his reading glasses and held up a hand. ‘Confidential, I’m afraid. I’m totting up everyone’s points to see who our overall winner is.’

  Well, it wouldn’t be me, that was for sure. Not if I had anything to do with it.

  ‘Peter, sorry to interrupt.’ I chewed my lip, not quite sure how to break it to him, he already looked busy enough. ‘There’s a bit of a problem with my prizes.’

  ‘Now, Tilly, don’t worry that you didn’t get more first prizes, you did really well for a beginner,’ he chuckled.

  ‘No, that’s just it, I’ve won prizes in categories that I didn’t submit entries for!’ I gave him an apologetic smile.

  Peter gazed at me vacantly and then consulted the judge’s sheet in front of him. He looked at me again. ‘Well, how did that happen?’

  I shrugged my lips. ‘You tell me.’

  He smoothed his collar and tie and frowned. ‘Well, I can’t imagine that the judge made a mistake.’

  I had a sudden flashback to the moment I’d arrived with my entries. Peter had said he’d almost given up on me joining in. This had something to do with the Green Fingers show, I was convinced. I narrowed my eye, folded my arms and gave him my best teacher stare. ‘Peter, tell me the truth, did the committee enter on my behalf for the benefit of the cameras in case I let you down?’

  A purple-red flush tinged his face. He did not like that one bit. ‘What!’ he said with a snort. I felt droplets of his spittle on my face and I took a step back.

  ‘You knew it would be recorded and you wanted a feel-good ending to my first year on the allotment for the Green Fingers show.’ The more I thought about it, the more insulted I was. It was as if they’d assumed my own entries wouldn’t be good enough.

  Peter pushed his chair back, stood up and tilted his chin. ‘Preposterous.’

  ‘I agree,’ I said. ‘And now I feel like a fraud.’

  ‘I can assure you, the committee did no such thing. And frankly, I’m quite hurt. And they’ve filmed it now, have they?’

  I nodded. Less sure of myself and my accusations all of a sudden. If not the committee then who? And why? It didn’t make sense.

  Peter was scratching his chin and shaking his head. ‘What a mess. Do you actually grow all these things?’ He consulted his list. ‘Peas, courgettes, apples?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘So in theory you could have entered those categories?’

  ‘Well, in theory—’

  ‘It would be an awful bind to have to re-judge at this late stage.’

  ‘But I don’t deserve the prizes.’ My head was spinning. I’d just accused a fine, upstanding member of this community of cheating and if he wasn’t guilty, presumably I owed him a big fat apology. ‘Peter, I—’

  ‘The deed is done now.’ Peter sat down again and pulled the keyboard towards him. ‘And the film is in the can, as the saying goes. So we’ll say no more about it.’

  Dismissed like a disobedient schoolgirl by the headmaster.

  How humiliating! I sloped off, back out into the sunshine, feeling all hot and bothered. And to make matters worse, I supposed I couldn’t tell anyone about my dilemma, could I? Word would get round and the place would be in uproar; I’d already seen Vicky and Liz have a barbed conversation about each other’s dahlias. No, I’d have to keep quiet about the whole bizarre episode.

  I decided to escape to the toilets for a few seconds’ peace. I rounded the corner of the pavilion, still huffing to myself, and ran smack-bang into Charlie’s muscular chest.

  ‘Whoah!’ He caught me by my arms and laughed. ‘What’s that face for? I thought you’d be chuffed winning first prize for those apples!’

  His hands were cool on my skin and had the much needed effect of calming me down for a moment. Even so, I wasn’t in the mood for company. I wriggled out of his grasp and then froze, realizing what he had just said.

  ‘Charlie?’ I narrowed my eyes.

  And then before I could react he pulled me into him and kissed me lightly on the lips. I gasped and sprang away.

  ‘Charlie!’

  His face spilt into a wide grin and he laughed. ‘I entered your stuff. Nearly missed the deadline, too. I thought you’d never finish digging up those bloody carrots!’ He rolled his eyes.

  ‘You?’ An excruciating image of Peter’s appalled face popped into my head. I stared at Charlie. ‘But I didn’t want to enter peas or apples or courgettes.’

  He shook his head gently and smiled. ‘You’re so modest.’

  ‘Modesty has nothing to do with it. I don’t grow vegetables for prizes. I’m not interested in competitions. I’m just here for the simple pleasure of growing my own food and being in the company of my friends.’

  Even as I said this, my heart seemed to swell and I felt tears prick at my eyes. If that wasn’t my original intention when I took on the allotment, it certainly was now. Being with people like Gemma and Christine and Roy and even Charlie (when he wasn’t dropping me in it) was now even more important to me than gardening.

  ‘I know,’ he said, taking hold of my arms again, so softly this time that I didn’t push him away. ‘You’re an angel.’ He pressed his lips to my forehead. ‘My angel.’

  Uh oh.

  ‘Charlie, I—’

  He hushed me with a finger at my lips. I glanced round, hoping that someone else would need the loo soon. Where were all the weak bladders when you needed them?

  ‘You’re so good; helping us all. Me, Colin, Alf and Gemma. I’ve watched you putting others first, and I wanted to do something for you.’

  ‘That’s very kind, Charlie, but there’s no need.’ I smiled and edged my feet backwards. This outpouring of affection was sweet, but it made me uncomfortable too.

  Charlie’s eyes were blazing at me, with an intensity that made my cheeks flush and my chest pound. ‘There’s every need,’ he said. ‘Because since you came into my life I’ve changed. You’ve made me a better person.’

  ‘Charlie, I’m flattered, really I am—’

  ‘You’ve given me hope,’ he continued, his thumbs stroking my upper arms. ‘I never thought I’d find anyone to love again. My ex-wife did a right number on me.’ A flash of sadness clouded his eyes and my heart flipped over. Poor guy. ‘I was a mess after we spilt up. I’m telling you this because I want you to know all there is about me.’

  He wasn’t the only one to think they would never love again. I simply hadn’t been interested in men since James. But unfortunately it wasn’t Charlie who’d broken the spell. It was Aidan.

  ‘I’m your friend, Charlie, and your friendship means an awful lot to me. Really.’ I reached out and took his hands. ‘But only that.’

  ‘Tilly, I’ve got history, I admit it. An ex-wife and a son.’

  Charlie was a father? I had known him for eight months and he had only just told me? I loosened my grasp on his hands.

  ‘But that needn’t be a problem,’ he continued. ‘I only see him once a month, and sometimes not even that if she’s being awkward.’

  ‘What?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He looked at me blankly. Obviously I hadn’t given him the response he had anticipated.

  I straightened up and took a step away from him. My breath caught in my throat as my words tumbled out, all jerky and rough. ‘You’ve got a family? A child? Do you not know how precious that is? What a privilege? I didn’t know you when you were married but if you have changed for the better you would want that boy in your life. What parent wouldn’t?’

  He frowned and took a deep breath. He’d better not try to tell me I was over-reacting. Quite frankly, I didn’t care what he thought, I’d heard enough. I turned and walked away.

  I walked as fast as I could without drawing attention to myself, up the road, along the path past my own plot, through the trees until I came to the stone bench out of sight from prying eyes. I sat down and drew long sh
uddering breaths.

  The branches forming the arch above the bench were thickly wrapped in ivy and ribbons of it brushed softly against my hair. I pulled my knees up to my chin and pressed the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.

  What was I most upset about: Charlie being a dad, Charlie being an absent dad, Charlie attempting to woo me, Charlie making me make a fool of myself in front of Peter? I sighed. Whichever way I looked at it, Charlie was involved.

  I pulled my hands away from my eyes and smoothed the fabric of my dress. I ran my fingers down my shins, feeling the tight shiny skin of the scars that spanned from my knees to my ankles. I made a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a self-pitying sob. I’d been so self-conscious coming out with my legs showing this morning and absolutely no one had commented; all too wrapped up in their own problems to notice.

  ‘Is that you, Tills? Flippin’ ’eck!’ Gemma grunted as she pushed through the trees. ‘Jungle dot com in this place.’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, swinging my legs off the far side of the bench.

  She plonked herself down, facing the opposite way to me, and nudged me with her arm. ‘What’s up, misery chops? Sulking ’cos your carrots didn’t win?’

  I shook my head and swallowed. My throat felt so tight I thought the words might not even be able to squeeze their way out. I so needed a hug.

  ‘I’ve had a terrible fight with Charlie.’

  She huffed. ‘The silly sod. What’s he done now?’

  ‘He and his wife had a baby, Gem.’ I blinked to ward off the tears. ‘Charlie is a father and he barely sees his son. What sort of person does that make him?’

  I leaned forward anticipating Gemma’s arms to open up and give me a much needed cuddle. Or at the very least a scandalized gasp. But what I got was entirely different.

  ‘A terrible one,’ she wailed. ‘A dreadful person who doesn’t deserve any happiness.’

  She dropped her face down into her lap and bawled. I watched in horror as her body convulsed with bigger and bigger sobs and a shiver ran down my spine. I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth and took several deep breaths as Gemma’s recent behaviour stacked up like the clues in an episode of Murder She Wrote. The tetchiness, the sickness, the spinach-fest . . . Oh my God!

  ‘You’re pregnant.’ I reached over and placed a hand gently on her back.

  She looked up at me through bulging red eyes and nodded. ‘I’ve been feeling weird for days and then I found myself out in our back yard pressing my tongue against the bricks of the house. And then I knew.’

  ‘That’s good news, isn’t it?’ I was aware of my heart thumping wildly against my ribcage.

  ‘I don’t know, Tilly.’ She sniffed and wiped her arm across her nose. ‘This was so not on the cards.’

  ‘But Gemma . . . a baby,’ I swallowed. ‘You said you always wanted to give Mike a child of his own?’

  I felt terrified all of a sudden. Before long Gemma would have a baby. Could I cope with that? Would I still want to be her friend?

  She reached across and took my hands. ‘I did. For years . . . But not now. Not when I was just getting my life back. Mike will be delighted. And part of me is so happy for him, truly. And Mia’ll be over the moon, I’m sure of it.’

  I chewed on my lip. We would have even less in common. She might give up the allotment anyway, perhaps that would be for the best.

  ‘What about my hopes and dreams? I’ll tell you what. Back burner, that’s what. Probably never to get to the forefront again. By the time this one is ready to fly the nest I’ll be a grandmother. I’m nearly old enough to be a grandmother now, come to that.’

  She edged towards me and we wrapped our arms around each other.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll come to terms with it, I’ll change my plans and everything will be fine. I just needed this,’ she said, lifting her head and gazing at me. ‘A bit of time to get my head together.’

  I looked at Gemma’s stricken face. The story of me and James would have to wait. This wasn’t the time after all. I leaned my head on her shoulder and let my own tears come. I was crying for her and her baby, for Charlie and his estranged family and for myself and the family that had so far eluded me.

  We stayed like that until our faces were hot and our eyes were red.

  Gemma pulled away first. ‘I’m so ashamed of the way I’m feeling,’ she said, handing me a tissue and dabbing one on her own face. ‘I know people who would give anything to have a baby.’

  How I didn’t cry again, I’ll never know. I managed a pathetic smile instead.

  ‘Thank you for letting me confide in you.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ I said, ‘that’s what friends are for.’

  And as I said those words I wondered whether witnessing the next few months would be too much for my fragile heart to bear. But I stood up and offered her a hand, and we made our way slowly back to the pavilion.

  Chapter 9

  It was nearly four o’clock and the crowd had started to thin out. As we approached the pavilion, I spotted the Green Fingers crew talking inside and realized with a jolt that this was it. Filming was over. After today, I would probably never set eyes on Aidan again. My thoughts were falling over each other in their haste to take centre stage and I hadn’t quite got to grips with how I truly felt when Peter clapped his hands to attract our attention.

  ‘Mike’s here,’ hissed Gemma, clutching at my arm. ‘Over there by Dad.’

  We both waved and Roy and Mike waved back from their position at the edge of the road near the car park.

  ‘Can everyone gather round,’ Peter called.

  Gemma sighed as we shuffled forward dutifully. ‘He’ll be a great dad.’

  I shoved her gently with my shoulder. ‘And so will you, be a great mum I mean.’

  ‘A baby is a blessing, isn’t it?’ She searched my eyes nervously. I swallowed and nodded. ‘Do you mind if I . . .?’ She tilted her head towards her husband.

  No, don’t leave me on my own.

  ‘Of course not!’ I laughed as I extricated myself from her grasp and flapped at her to go.

  That performance was enough to earn me a place at RADA, I thought, watching her skip over to Mike and thread her arms round his waist.

  With any luck by the time Peter had finished his speech, my breathing would have got back to normal.

  ‘Thank you to everyone who took part in our annual show,’ said Peter. ‘The standards were, dare I say, even higher than usual and the prizes in each category were very well-deserved.’

  Some less so than others, I thought, not knowing where to look; I had Charlie in my line of vision by the depleted cake stall and Peter on the pavilion steps in front of me. I stared at the ground, feeling my cheeks practically pulsating with embarrassment.

  ‘Now, as you know, we have had some special guests here over the summer and as chairman of the committee, I should like to thank everyone at Ivy Lane for their cooperation during the filming of what I am sure will be an entertaining and riveting documentary.’

  I thought I could detect a bit of harrumphing and bosom rearranging going on around me and once again cast my eyes downwards. As far as I knew, neither Rosemary’s herb parterre nor Brenda’s heritage potatoes had made it into the final cut.

  ‘Today is their last day here with us,’ continued Peter. ‘We’ve had plenty of drama along the way,’ he chuckled, ‘and I for one have thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Let’s give the Green Fingers crew a big Ivy Lane round of applause!’

  Peter beckoned Suzanna, Jeff and Aidan to the front of the pavilion and Nigel appeared with a bouquet of flowers for Suzanna. Jeff and Aidan raised their hands self-consciously and then melted away into the audience.

  ‘Thank you so much, everybody,’ said Suzanna, after kissing Nigel and Peter on the cheek. ‘It has been an honour for Green Fingers to follow you over the last couple of months. You have been an inspiration and I’ve learned a lot. Graham,’ she said, seeking him out and addressing him directly, ‘the aroma
of your special fertilizer will remain with me for some time.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ shouted Alf, ‘it’ll remain with us for ever!’

  Graham blushed as we all laughed and Helen wrapped her arm around her husband proudly.

  ‘And Dougie,’ continued Suzanna, wagging a finger at him. ‘I’ll never forget the time we spent together in your shed.’

  Charlie wolf-whistled and Peter and Nigel exchanged frowns from the sidelines. Dougie hooted with laughter and blew her a kiss. ‘Any time, darlin’!’ he called.

  ‘You’ve made me, Jeff and Aidan so welcome and it has been a pleasure getting to know you all. Even those of you who were a little camera shy to start with have made an enormous contribution to the programme. I’ll miss you all.’

  As we gave Suzanna another round of applause, my eyes drifted towards Aidan. He was standing sideways to me and I gazed at his profile. I barely knew him at all, I realized. Apart from the fact he appeared to be good at his job, stayed calm in a crisis and managed to put even the most resistant plot holders (i.e. me) at ease during filming, I knew nothing about ‘Aidan the man’.

  But what I did know was that he had awakened a place deep inside me that I had given up hope of reaching again. I was, purely and simply, attracted to him. I only had to look at him, as I was doing now, to feel all fluttery somewhere beneath my ribcage.

  The poor man; little did he know that when he said I looked lovely this morning, he had released this raging surge of hormones in me. It was perhaps just as well that Green Fingers had finished filming; another couple of days and I’d be launching myself at him. I smiled to myself. I had no intention of doing anything about these new feelings, but I was grateful for them nonetheless.

  I felt . . . alive . . . like a woman again.

  He turned suddenly and met my eyes as if I had shouted his name. I was still mid-smile, which was embarrassing enough and then my mouth went dry and my lips stuck to my teeth. I probably looked like a dog baring its teeth. But he smiled back.

  ‘Nice lad,’ said a gravelly voice in my ear. ‘Single, you know.’ I turned to see Alf standing at my shoulder. Despite the heat of the day he was wearing a tweedy cardigan frayed at both elbows.