Chapter 11
11
The door to the Dog and Duck clearly needed a good spray of WD40 as it creaked open, alerting everyone inside to a new customer, although ‘everyone’ in this particular instance consisted of just the young girl behind the bar and Ivan, who was sat on a bar stool with a pint of mild.
‘Good Lord, is that you, Madison Young? Haven’t you got that high falutin’ job in the city? It’s not often we see you around this neck of the woods. I didn’t recognise you at first. What are you doing in here on a Sunday afternoon?’
‘Hello, Ivan, you’re looking well. Sadly, I don’t have that job any more. In fact, I don’t have a job at all right now. I’m helping up at Giddywell Grange for the moment while Beth is recovering from an operation.’
Patting the stool beside him, he invited me to join him. ‘Come on, lass, sit with me. What’s your poison?’
Not really used to drinking in the afternoon, I wasn’t sure what to have, so I asked for a gin and tonic. It was a long drink, not too strong, and it would last me a while. As it was being prepared, we started to chat about life. After he’d told me all about his bunions and I’d managed to stop myself from heaving when he offered to show me one – which I obviously declined – I finally got round to telling him about my good fortune at suddenly becoming the not-so-proud owner of a plot in the allotments.
Once I got Ivan talking about his favourite topic, he was in his element and I couldn’t shut him up. Another two pints of mild and two gin and tonics later, I had written down three lists: one of things that I needed to do, one of things that I could grow and the final one of things I needed to get. Apparently I needed a rototiller, which would enable me to till an entire area of soil in minutes (whatever that meant) but he had one that I could borrow to keep the costs down. He also told me that I’d get hung, drawn and quartered by the other owners if I put weeds in the wrong compost bin because they’d take root, and that a water butt was a must.
When I showed Ivan the pictures on my phone, he said that I’d got nearly everything I would need right there in my shed. The big metal bin was a compost bin and the huge thing I had been unable to identify had turned out to be a water butt. Big necessities, which were already in situ. Ivan was getting more excited about my allotment plot than I was and promised to come over in the next day or two to have a look and offer me his expert advice on the land and what order to tackle it. He also said that he’d try to introduce me to a friend of his son’s called Vinnie who was a landscape gardener and who lived in one of the neighbouring villages, Little Ollington, and had studied horticulture at university. Apparently Vinnie was amazing at anything to do with gardening and landscaping and had helped Ivan a few times with his allotment, and he might also be able to help me out with some hints and tips.
I decided that I needed to pay a visit to the ladies’, and when I moved, I wobbled and nearly fell off my stool. Ivan grabbed my arm to right me, laughing that I probably wasn’t used to drinking doubles in the afternoon. Bloody hell, doubles? That meant I’d had six! I wasn’t used to drinking in the day at all. No wonder I felt totally squiffy.
When I came back from the loo, there was my hero, standing at the bar. ‘I had a feeling I’d find you here.’ Alex grinned at me across the room. ‘Ivan, I do hope you haven’t been getting this young lady drunk, have you?’
‘Me? Never!’ Ivan grinned and glanced at his watch. ‘Bugger me; I’d better be going. Marjorie will batter me with a frying pan if I miss my dinner.’ He patted me on the arm as he jumped off his stool really sprightly for an older gent who had been on the mild all afternoon. ‘Always around for you, me darlin’, I’ll be over to check out your patch very soon,’ he said, and he winked at me on his way out. I giggled, thinking how funny it was that an eighty-year-old man could make a double entendre out of talking about allotments.
‘Come on, you. You’d better leave your car here and fetch it tomorrow. I’ll take you home.’ Years ago I would have longed to hear him say that. Alex offered me his arm and a spark of electricity ran through me as I tucked my arm into his and we meandered out to the car park. I thought I could get used to this. But then I told myself that lovely as Alex was, I didn’t need a man in my life to depend on. I was perfectly capable of looking after myself. Just like Mum had been capable of looking after us both. And I certainly didn’t need one that was in a relationship.
I talked complete nonsense in the car all the way back to my riverside apartment, the combination of the gin and his presence making me feel a tad giddy. Alex walked me up to the door and made sure I got in safely. He hovered on the doorstep and I thought about inviting him in, but I’d had way too much to drink to behave sensibly and there was a little bit of me that wanted to throw caution to the wind and just chuck him on the sofa. But then I remembered that he was not mine. That thought sobered me up, and I kissed him on the cheek, thanking him politely for making sure I got home OK, and when he shut the door on his way out, I stumbled over to the sofa and conked out.