Read The Great Allotment Proposal for Free Online Page B

hours that were going. She’d also hired a painter/decorator called Winston who was in his seventies, an out-of-work artist and quite possibly the slowest, most fastidious painter she’d ever met. She’d watch him sliding his brush up the wall with the care and precision that might have gone into the Sistine Chapel and was itching to tell him to slap it on thick and get on with it. But he was quite funny and very cheap so she let him do as he pleased.
    When she came back from work, to escape the mayhem at the house, on occasion, when she remembered, Emily went to the allotment. She’d invested in a pair of short red Hunter wellingtons with fringing on the front and a waterproof poncho.
    That Friday evening was perfect allotment weather – the sun sizzled, the birds were chattering, the grass paths had been cut and the scent hung fresh and sharp in the air. While she’d only been there a few times, Emily had developed quite a routine. She’d wave to everyone working on their plots, give her own beds a good water and then pull out the deckchair, have a glass of wine from the bottle she kept in the shed – red so it was OK if it got a little warm – and sit back to read her emails or her book and then close her eyes for a moment of relaxation.
    ‘Emily?’ she heard a woman’s voice ask tentatively as she was listening to the Mindfulness app that Annie’s mum had recommended.
    Emily opened one eye. ‘Hello?’
    The woman standing before her was probably the same age as her but dressed older. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, she was wearing jeans cut off at the knee and an old baggy shirt, Crocs on her feet and no make-up on. ‘I’m Jane Williams.’
    Emily had to tip her head back so she could meet the woman’s eyes from under her giant sunhat. ‘Hi, Jane Williams,’ she said, wondering if she wanted an autograph.
    ‘I’m here because of Holly?’ Jane said. ‘She asked me to come and help.’
    Emily frowned. ‘Why?’
    ‘I think she thought maybe, I don’t know, you might need an extra pair of hands.’
    Emily sat up as much as she could in the deckchair and held the brim of her hat up with her hand. ‘No I don’t think so, I’m doing fine. Look…’ She pointed to the allotment. ‘It’s all blooming.’
    Jane glanced over at the patch and nodded. And while she was clearly tried to hide it, she looked like she might be holding in a smile.
    ‘What?’ Emily asked. ‘What have I done wrong? Annie’s brother came by just yesterday and said it was doing really well.’
    Jane bit down on her thumbnail and made a face. ‘I think maybe he was erm… I think he might be…’
    ‘Oh god, is he lying?’ Emily scrabbled up from the deckchair as gainly as she could and, standing next to Jane, looked over at the bright-green, blooming bed. ‘What’s wrong with it? It looks really healthy.’
    ‘Well it’s just…’ Jane didn’t know how to put it without offending her. ‘Those…’ She pointed to the big green plants. ‘They’re all weeds. They’re not your plants.’
    ‘No. They can’t be.’ Emily took her hat off and put her iPhone and headphones down on the deckchair, then went over to have a proper look at her bed.
    Jane followed her. ‘They are, I’m afraid. Look,
these
are your plants. These here—’ Jane bent down and, pushing the huge weeds out the way, pointed to some wilting, insipid-looking seedlings.
    ‘Oh shit.’ Emily put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Shit, well they all look like they’re dead. Shit. You mean I’ve been coming here and watering weeds and no one’s told me?’
    Jane nodded. ‘They’re pretty competitive at this time of year.’
    ‘Oh that’s so pathetic. Why didn’t Jack tell me?’
    ‘Jack Neil?’ Jane looked up from where she was yanking up a couple of dandelions. ‘He’s away,’ she said. ‘He’s got a workshop in Kent. They’re building some big installation for a festival.’
    Emily frowned. She hadn’t realised he was