42. Her greatest act of defiance – 1997
Anton pushed his used breakfast plate across the table. ‘I will be late tonight. We’re meeting a new client for dinner. The list is in my office.’
Ursula arranged her expression into her veil face. She was about to deliver some news which, in her experience, was best delivered passively. ‘I’m not sure I’ll have time for your list today. I have my own list.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve been away for a month. I’ve got a lot to catch up on at the allotment. I’ll need to put a full day in to get it back to where it was before we went away.’
A twitch appeared on his left eye and crept along the rest of that side of his face. This was a new development. ‘There is urgent work that needs to be done here.’
‘Perhaps you could ask your secretary to do it.’
‘Perhaps you could re-prioritise your hobby.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Her voice was small and self-conscious under the spotlight of his glare.
It was another new occurrence, this menacing glare.
It was taking all her willpower not to give in to it.
They’d been in Germany until yesterday. A field trip.
Much of the time Ursula had been alone in their rented apartment, and when she wasn’t alone, she was either waiting on Anton, pandering to him, or entertaining for him.
Lately she’d come to think she’d accidentally slipped into a past decade where she was the good little wife whose sole purpose was to see to his every need.
She’d done all of it without a word of dissent, if only to avoid situations like this.
But she was desperate to get back to her allotment now.
She wanted to check on her crops and sit outside her little shed sharing tea, biscuits and chatter with her friends.
And if she was honest, those days alone with nothing to do but anticipate Anton’s return had woken something in her.
She didn’t know what else to call it, she just knew she was sick and tired of being that good little wife.
Anton pulled on his jacket and knocked non-existent fluff off the shoulders. She thought he was going to leave without saying another word and that for once, she’d got away with it. But, as he reached the front door, he stopped. ‘This ridiculous obsession of yours has gone too far.’
‘We agreed I could find something fulfilling when you came to fetch me in Leyton.’
‘This cannot be fulfilling.’
‘It is for me. It’s my passion project.’ She surprised herself with that one.
Him too, but it didn’t take long for his surprise to turn into something darker.
His words had been thrown back at him and he was incensed.
She was met with an expression of cold, hard rage that made her want to run into a corner and hide.
‘Once again you disappoint me, Ursula.’
She felt herself shrinking, but then she thought of her mum and those small acts of defiance and she pulled herself up and looked him in the eye.
It was enough to make him leave, slamming the door behind him, the sound of it echoing through the house and bruising her ears.
She gasped and realised she’d been holding her breath.
In spite of being neglected for a month her plot was quite tidy and very little work needed to be done.
If she wanted to she could just spend half a day here and then start on Anton’s list. But this morning had been a victory.
If she went back on it now, the next one would be even harder to achieve.
Besides, she’d stopped off at a supermarket on the way here to buy food and wine. So she was going to bloody well stay.
It had only taken a few months to become part of this community.
They’d been so friendly and helpful. Especially Samuel, Clyde, and Marcie and her husband, Gordon.
For the first time since Talulah, Ursula felt like she belonged somewhere.
But it was more than that; she could do what she wanted here.
No one was going to judge her on what she was wearing or tell her how to fill her time, and she could paint and furnish the shed however she liked without being criticised for having terrible taste.
Keeping this allotment going was her greatest act of defiance.
Not her passion project. She’d only said that to get at Anton.
She never thought of it as that because that phrase belonged to him, and she didn’t want him anywhere near this place.
Weeding was her priority; she didn’t want them sucking the goodness out of the soil and depriving her plants.
When she first started this allotment, she’d found it hard to tell the young weeds from seedlings but after nearly two years, she’d become good it.
At the beginning, she’d only wanted to grow fruit and vegetables.
Flowers held too many unhappy associations.
First there was the house she’d lived in when she was little.
There’d been lots of flowers in that garden.
Her father had liked flowers. Every weekend in the summer, he wandered around the borders, cutting the best ones to put into a big glass vase in the hall.
The actual gardening was left to the gardener.
Until her father had walked out on them.
Her mum had to let the gardener go then and the flowers were left to their own devices.
It hadn’t occurred to Ursula before but he she now wondered if her father had another garden at his other house.
The one where he kept his mistress. And if he did, did he also cut flowers every weekend and arrange them in another big glass vase, in another hallway?
Probably. The man was all show. She wondered too if he’d been a better father to those other children.
He was probably a grandfather now. She wouldn’t know.
The last time she’d seen or heard anything of him was that day at Talulah, and she was happy to keep it that way.
The garden at home was another reason she didn’t want flowers.
In Anton’s garden, flowers were strictly ornamental.
Weeds were obliterated as soon as they poked through.
Every tree, every bush, every plant was carefully monitored in case it dared to shoot off in an unsanctioned direction, and the lawn was so neat and clean you really could eat your dinner off it.
Not that such a thing would be allowed. Far too messy.
There’d been a time when she’d found his need to control funny.
Endearing even. These days she hadn’t quite settled on her feelings towards it.
Some days she pitied him for it. Some days she hated him for it.
Some days she hated herself for allowing him to do it.
It had been Samuel who’d persuaded her to plant companion flowers to attract pollinators and lure pests away.
She was glad she’d given in to him because she loved the straggly sweet peas that lived alongside the brassicas and leafy greens.
She was grateful to the pretty nasturtiums every time they lured a fat slug or snail from the cucumbers.
And she could sit all day watching the butterflies, bees and hoverflies crowding the English lavender.
At eleven she went up to the gates because her mum was stopping by for an hour. She was retired now and often came over to the allotment when Ursula wasn’t travelling. Ursula suspected she preferred it to visiting the house.
She was already there, waiting on the other side of the gate. They took a slow walk back, her mum stopping to admire the other plots every now and then. ‘Lovely day to be outside. I expect you’ve got a lot to do, haven’t you?’
‘Not really. I think my friends have been keeping it tidy for me. I’ve got lots of crops ready though. Plenty for you to take home. Have a sit down. I’ll make us some tea.’
This year, Ursula had installed a bench by the lavender. It was in the middle of the plot but still close enough to the main path to catch passers-by who wanted to stop for a chat.
‘Did you enjoy Germany?’ said her mum.
‘It was okay. Glad to be back.’ Many people, her mum included, assumed she led an exciting and glamorous life, travelling to different parts of the world with her successful husband.
But when it came down to it, she was just doing the same things she did at home without the added joy of her allotment.
‘Well, I’ve got some news. Prepare yourself. Andi’s coming home. They’re leaving London.’
‘Oh wow. That is news. Did she say why?’
‘No. I expect they’re finding it hard now they’ve got the two kids. She’ll get more support here from her family. And us too.’
Her mum stayed for a picnic lunch and didn’t leave until mid-afternoon.
A couple of hours later, the diehards who worked during the day but couldn’t keep away were beginning to arrive.
Samuel was one of the first. He spent so much time here, you’d never think he had a family.
He stopped in front of her plot, that big warm smile of his reminding her of the other reason she’d been so desperate to be here. ‘Ursula, you’re back.’
‘I am. Thanks for looking after things for me.’
‘It wasn’t just me. Clyde can’t stand a messy patch. Are you back for a while?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Good. I’ll be seeing you.’ He never asked her about her trips away. She liked that about him.
She carried on pottering until she had nothing left to do outside.
Next, she swept and dusted the shed, and then there really was nothing left to do.
The sun was low now and she thought how nice it would be to sit and watch it go down.
She did that occasionally with Samuel, if Anton was away without her and, as he wasn’t going to be home until late, she could do that now.
A thought made her turn back from the path and she grabbed the wine and the remaining food before slipping through the gap in the hedge.
Samuel was sitting in his chair. He gestured to the seat he’d already put out next to him. ‘You come to share the sunset, Ursula?’
‘If you don’t mind. I brought food. And wine.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Wine? You some fancy woman, yer know.’
She laughed. ‘Sorry. Don’t you like wine?’
‘I can tek it, but I prefer rum. You got some glasses in that bag of yours?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I thought we could use mugs.’
‘I can do better than that.’ He fetched two tumblers from his shed. ‘Me and Clyde like a tot when we’re listening to the cricket. What else you got in there?’
‘Some bread, cheese, and meats. Fancy meats, I’m afraid.’
He let out one of his booming laughs. ‘Priscilla would be scandalised if she knew I was eating fancy meats with a fancy woman.’
‘Who’s Priscilla?’
‘Me wife. Look now, the sun’s leaving us.’
They stopped talking and watched the day close. Then they drank the wine and ate the bread, cheese and fancy meats while the darkness descended.
‘How you getting home?’ he said.
‘I’ll walk. Can’t drive now.’
‘I’ll walk you home.’
‘There’s no need.’ She stood up too quickly and the alcohol went straight to her head.
‘I’ll walk you anyway,’ he said.
On the way to her house, he talked about his plans for next year’s plantings, suggesting things she might like to try growing. When they reached the house he let out a long whistle. She laughed. ‘Fancy house?’
He nodded. ‘Goodnight, Ursula.’
She loved the way he spoke her name as if he was singing it. She looked up at him, the want in her almost too much. ‘Goodnight, Samuel.’
She turned and saw Anton in his office window. He was at the top of stairs when she closed the front door. She didn’t want to look at him but not doing so would give too much away. ‘I thought you were going to be late.’
‘Who was that?’
‘A friend from the allotments. Some of us stopped for a drink this evening. I left my car. He walked me back to make sure I got home safely.’
The menacing glare was back again. Perhaps he’d seen the longing in her. Panic made her blurt out the first thing that came into her head: ‘Andi’s coming back to Birmingham.’
He gave her another look she hadn’t seen in a long time. Disgust. Then he went back into his office and closed the door.