Chapter 83
The path is uneven, but by shining a torch at the ground he is able to make his way up to the allotments, the residents’ garden plots, without drawing attention to himself.
It is late and everyone will be asleep, but why take a risk?
He reaches the shed. There is a padlock, but it’s a cheap one; his wife’s hat pin soon springs it open.
The shed is shared by all the residents who have an allotment at Coopers Chase.
A select band. There are a couple of folding chairs for nice weather, and there’s a kettle for colder weather.
There are bags of fertilizer and mulch along one wall.
These are bought with funds from the kitty, and Carlito carries them in whenever the minibus comes back from the garden center.
Pinned above the fertilizer are the rules of the Coopers Chase Allotment Users Association.
They are lengthy, and they are enforced with vigor.
It is cold, even on a summer night. The torch continues its circuit.
There are no windows, which makes it easier.
The spade rests against the back wall inside the shed.
One look tells him all he needs to know. All he already knew, if he was honest, as he walked up the path. But what to do? You have to try.
He lifts it by the handle but is quickly beaten by its weight. When did he get so weak? What happened to his body? It was never much to write home about, but to think he could now barely lift a spade? Digging was out of the question.
So what now? Who could help? Who would understand? It was hopeless.
Bernard Cottle sits in a folding chair and weeps for what he has done.