41. The serenity of sunset – 1995
The council leaflet had been very specific about the colour of sheds.
Mid-green or nothing. But on this site, the definition of mid-green had multiple variations.
The one Ursula had picked was called shades of sage.
She’d been in a rebellious mood when she’d chosen the colour, if only because it wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the garden at home.
But now that she’d finished painting it, her conviction was beginning to wobble.
The paint wasn’t dry yet but it was definitely coming out lighter than expected, and that was enough to make her worry she’d get an angry visit from the allotment committee.
She stepped back from the shed, chewing on her lip. Mid-green it was not.
‘Good afternoon, Ursula. We’ve come to admire your fine shed.
’ It was Samuel and his friend, Clyde, the two of them standing with their arms folded, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats.
Clyde was from Jamaica originally, just like Samuel.
He was quieter than Samuel but they liked to laugh at the same things, one of those things being Ursula.
She didn’t mind. It was funny and gentle teasing.
Light relief from the lack of humour at home.
‘Has it passed scrutiny?’ she asked, aware they could be here in their official capacity as members of the committee.
‘Well I’m not sure, what do you think, Clyde?’
Clyde pushed his straw trilby back and scratched his head. ‘I don’t know Samuel, I think we need a second opinion.’
Samuel called over to Marcie in the next plot. ‘Marcie. What do you think of this shed? Is it up to scratch?’
Marcie stopped what she was doing and leaned on the tool she was doing it with. A hoe, Ursula thought it was called. ‘It’s lovely. You’ve done a very good job, Ursula. Leave her alone you pair. You should be making yourselves useful giving her a hand instead of winding her up.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘But that’s not so much fun, Marcie.’
‘I suppose she’s got a point, Samuel,’ said Clyde. ‘You got some tools in that fine shed, Ursula, or do we need to get our own?’
‘Better bring your own. I don’t want you messing up my fine shed while the paint’s wet,’ she said. It was enough to set their laughter off again as they went off towards Clyde’s plot.
‘You’re settling in well. Do you think you’ll stick it?’ said Marcie.
‘I hope so.’
‘So do I. Oh here they come, Morecombe and Wise. They’ll sort you out. There’s not much they don’t know about growing fruit and veg. When they’re not larking about, that is.’
Clyde crouched down to inspect some straggly vegetation on Ursula’s plot. ‘Your ears burning, Samuel?’
‘On fire, Clyde. Somebody call the fire brigade. If only some nice lady would mek a cuppa to cool us down.’
Marcie rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll get the kettle on.’
The two men began tidying up the rows of plants, pulling out weeds and digging up vegetables.
Before long, Ursula had a selection of beetroots, potatoes and carrots that had been planted by the previous tenants.
Marcie announced tea was up and called them over.
While they drank it and ate biscuits in the sunshine, the three old hands bombarded Ursula with instructions on what to plant, what to harvest and what to discard.
Marcie fetched a pad and pen for Ursula to jot down key points and make a list of equipment she needed to buy.
She was making lists. It might be the one thing about this allotment Anton would approve of.
Samuel held his hand out for the list. ‘Let me see. Hmm. Don’t forget your camping stove, cups and a water container.’
‘Tea and coffee,’ said Clyde.
‘And a biscuit tin,’ said Marcie. ‘We get through a lot of biscuits.’
Ursula added them to the list. She’d get them tomorrow while she was shopping for a gift for Andi’s baby. She’d had a girl. Jet, they’d called her. She was going to see them next week with her mum. Not that she really wanted to. But once again, she was doing what was expected of her.
Ursula and her mum got off the tube at Leyton and walked up the High Road, but they turned off before they reached Andi’s old flat.
From outside, the new place looked like a house but it had been split into two flats.
A bleary-eyed Pablo opened the door to them.
It was midday. If he wasn’t the father of a newborn baby, he’d have still been in bed.
Andi looked exhausted, but stunning. Motherhood agreed with her. She picked up a tiny bundle from the Moses basket. ‘This is Jet.’ The baby had a mass of black hair, a mini version of Pab.
‘Oh she’s just beautiful. Will you look at that hair,’ said Ursula’s mum.
‘Do you want to hold her?’ said Andi.
‘I’d love to.’ Her mum took the baby in her arms and rocked her. Jet made a little noise and yawned.
Pab hopped around nervously behind them. ‘You’ve got the knack. She’s a nightmare usually.’ He seemed different. Not so full of himself.
‘She’ll grow out of it. Ursula hardly ever slept till she was six months old.’
Andi looked at Ursula, as if she’d only just realised she was there. ‘Do you want to hold her, Urs?’
She shook her head. ‘I might drop her.’
‘No you won’t. Sit down and I’ll hand her to you,’ said her mum.
‘Okay.’ She wanted to be sick but she couldn’t let them see it.
‘Here you go, love. Cradle her head in your arm. That’s it. There you are.’
Everyone in the room was watching her, waiting for her reaction. A shiver caught hold of her and she held the tiny bundle tighter in case she really did drop her. It made the baby wriggle and stretch out her arms.
‘She wants a feed.’ Pab was moving in on them, anxious to take his daughter off the uptight childless woman.
Andi’s arm flew out to stop him, not realising it was exactly what Ursula wanted. ‘She’s good for a bit. She’s just waking up.’
The baby opened her eyes, deep blue and unfathomable, willing Ursula to look at them. It was pointless resisting. And even though she knew Jet couldn’t really see her, it felt like she was looking straight into her. But it was all right. Bearable.
‘You okay?’ Andi’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.
Ursula held her finger out for Jet to wrap her tiny fist around. ‘Yes I am. I really am.’
She didn’t linger at home after she got back.
Anton was in Edinburgh on a site visit and wouldn’t be returning until tomorrow.
She drove straight to the allotments. It was early evening, not her normal time.
He liked to have her home when he’d finished work, but he wasn’t here so she could do what she liked.
Most people had gone by the time she got there and the place had an extra calmness about it.
She made herself a hot drink on her new camping stove, sat outside on her new garden chair, and let the tension she’d been carrying all day slip away.
The sun was going down behind her. She got up and walked along the path that cut through a hedge, certain she’d get the best view of it from there.
The hedge partially hid four more plots from the main site, one of which was Samuel’s.
To her surprise he was there, sitting on a colonial style wicker chair in front of his shed. ‘Ursula?’
She took the smaller path that led to his plot. ‘What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be home now?’
‘I like watching the sun go down.’
‘Me too.’
‘You want to sit with me?’ He brought another chair out from his shed for her.
She sat down and was treated to the sight of a gloriously red sun floating just above the far trees. ‘Do you often stay here until this time?’
He nodded. ‘I like the stillness, the solitude.’
‘Oh, would you rather be alone? I can go.’
‘We can enjoy it together. Look, it’s almost gone.’
They sat quietly, neither saying a word, just listening to the sound of descending night and watching the fireball in the sky sink below the trees and hedges. It was peaceful and serene. Like everything had slowed down And right then, Ursula knew she truly was going to be all right.