Chapter 16
A barren old patch of mud. Was this love app having another laugh at her expense?
Alyssa trained her face into a smile she wasn’t feeling as she paced forwards, noting there were local news cameras at the ready.
She was heading towards what looked like some sort of veggie patch allotment area beyond a cluster of apple trees at the end of Apple Blossom Lane, which if she remembered rightly, used to be a parking spot.
With it being winter, the trees still had no leaves, which made them look a bit like they were pointing their gnarly fingers accusatorily at her.
Or maybe this place was messing with her head.
Anyway, weren’t allotments usually somewhere more secluded, so old men could hide in their sheds smoking pipes?
She had no clue what Love Task Two was about, as Teijo prearranged logistics for the app’s chosen task with an air of mystery, and Rufus kept pretending he was busier than an elf at Christmas.
But whatever this was, she was going to style it out.
No looking flustered, flappy or like a prize buffoon.
She would sail through quickly, plant a few turnips for the cameras, and then disappear somewhere for a big, greasy brunch.
As she arrived at the edge of the land, she noticed a wooden sign saying Hartglove Love Garden, and the entrance had been decorated with white picket fences, strung with what looked like Jess from the shop’s macramé heart bunting.
Well, it was Instagrammy. Though she’d preferred the view from the angle where she could just see the barren trees and mud.
Somewhere in the distance the usual locals were whispering about something, some clutching their More Love in Hartglove banners.
Then her eyes widened. Her parents. Holding hands like an unlikely pair of lovebirds and looking surprisingly muddy.
Urgh. Her stomach twitched. Well, they’d better stick to the memo that she wasn’t their loser of a daughter, Beryl, or she might be tempted to drop a few digs about one particular scorching memory she had of her mother.
That dreadful night when she’d walked in on her doing the reverse cowgirl on top of a man called Dominic, right there on the family sofa.
At least it had been wipe-down pleather.
That had been the scene she’d walked in on after rushing home, the night of the Devan and Sylvie bombshell.
‘I thought you’d be at the dance,’ her mother had exclaimed.
Followed by ‘Family life gets so boring,’ which teenage Beryl had interpreted as ‘Beryl Bagnor is so exceedingly dull that her boyfriend shags her best mate, and her mum would rather forge a whole new secret life.’
What had made the slapstick scenario even worse was her dad walking in looking for his car keys, on his way to see his girlfriend from the bank.
He’d simply waved at a naked Dominic like it was a standard Saturday night, and said he’d see him at the golf club on Tuesday.
Her parents had gone on to admit they liked to play around.
But even at nineteen, Beryl hadn’t been able to stomach it.
And she hadn’t stuck around to spend any more time on the family pleather sofa, because London had seemed more inviting.
She rolled back her shoulders and lifted her chin.
If she was lucky, she could spend the morning dodging her parents, like she had for the last two or three weeks – and in fact, since she’d first left Hartglove, more or less.
The delay between tasks had been frustrating, and a suspicious part of her wondered if it had been orchestrated in the vain hope that Hartglove might get under her skin.
But she wasn’t that penetrable. When she’d complained to Rufus, he’d wittered on about trusting the process and the possibility he might bug them for more money.
And where was Devan? Not that she actually wanted to see him, but the sooner he arrived, the sooner they could get this love-themed pantomime over with. At least his imminent arrival would mean Sylvie wouldn’t be showing her face. It surely wasn’t a good look to bring your wife.
‘Are you ready for whatever they throw at you, Miss Heart?’ asked a reporter, jumping in front of her.
Alyssa tried to keep her composure. ‘Yes, of course.’
She beamed for a few photos, determined to mask the odd jumble of nerves she’d been feeling all morning, and to ignore the members of the press pack who were still barking questions about Beryl.
‘Is the app making you fall in love?’ another journalist yelled.
Alyssa laughed, and this time it was genuine. ‘No. I’m all about giving this a go – in the interests of science.’ Or more likely, the getting paid bit. ‘But could an algorithm make you fall in love?’ She smiled sweetly and handed him a business card.
There. That was slightly more badass love coach than the last time.
Teijo from the app’s media agency appeared at her side. Thank goodness. He gave her a warm smile with those great teeth of his, and offered her his hand, which was warm and inviting. Hmm, chivalrous. Maybe she would ask him out for a drink when all of this was over.
With one swift move, Teijo handed her unsuspecting digits right into the open palm of Devan Shaw’s hand. And unless they came gift-wrapped with a really nice bow, she did not like surprises.
Well, she was retracting that imaginary drinks offer. And where had Devan popped up from? He squeezed her hand lightly and she yanked it back.
‘Ow! You just gave me an electric shock.’
Wasn’t that something to do with a person’s footwear?
She eyed him suspiciously, silently pleased he wasn’t dressed for gardening either.
He looked annoyingly smart-casual in well-fitting jeans and a shirt, with a tight jumper on top.
What was with him and the too-small clothes?
Well, she hoped he was about to get filthy.
She blinked a few times, heat rising to her face.
Because she definitely hadn’t meant it in that way.
Devan smiled and shrugged. ‘Your body must be having a chemical reaction at the sheer sight of me.’
Teijo was busy scribbling.
‘My body is perfectly under control,’ Alyssa replied, signalling for Teijo to write that down too. ‘Now, can we get on with this?’
It didn’t take Teijo long to explain the app had taken on board Alyssa’s dislike of heights in task one and given them a project on the ground. They would be cultivating one of the allotment plots in the town’s new communal garden.
‘Bringing more love to Hartglove,’ said Teijo brightly. ‘Devan’s business has funded this new love garden to help bring the community together.’
Did Devan look embarrassed? ‘It’s a cause that’s close to my heart.’
Cheesy-tastic.
‘So, you’re pretty much a gardening pro,’ Teijo continued, checking his notes and looking at Alyssa. ‘You listed horticulture and taking care of the planet as pastimes in the app’s initial questionnaire.’
Had she? She’d got bored by the end and had quite possibly ticked space travel and competitive duck herding, for all she could remember. There had been a lot of pointless questions.
Devan muffled a laugh.
Alyssa felt herself bristle. ‘Well yes, of course I like tending to gardens, and things. Obviously,’ she bluffed. Devan probably remembered she hated getting muddy, but what did he know about her life these days?
‘And you’re always posting photos of delicious-looking beetroot juice on Instagram,’ said her mother, Pearl, busy-bodying over. She gave Alyssa an exaggerated conspiratorial wink. ‘As Miss Heart, of course.’
She could keep her sodding winking to herself.
Alyssa grimaced. What was Pearl even doing here?
She’d never paid Alyssa much attention when she’d been Beryl – probably because she’d been too busy practising her hole in one with Dominic from the golf club.
And since then, they’d only kept in touch over the phone every month or three, plus the odd quick hello in London.
Stilted conversations about superficial things.
Why did Pearl have to come flitting around her now?
‘Oh, I do enjoy Miss Heart’s Instagram photos,’ said Devan, putting his arm around her mum like they were besties. So annoying. ‘They never fail to surprise me.’
Beetroot juice tasted like the contents of an earthworm’s intestines – but as an inspiring role model, she couldn’t go posting photos of her downing Vimto like it was going out of fashion. At least her white lies were about positive, well-meaning things.
Alyssa barely recognised Pearl, dressed in gardening gear and radiating joy as though digging up worms was the best fun ever.
Her mother had never even boiled a vegetable since Marks & Spencer had started selling pre-cooked red cabbage, let alone grown one.
And as for the flower borders, her mum had always had a man in to do that.
And that’s probably not all the poor man had ended up tending.
‘Isn’t it wonderful that the town will have these new gardens, as a space to bloom and grow? We residents have always taken pride in our apple trees, of course. And just you wait until you see our glorious spring blossom,’ Pearl said to Teijo. ‘It’s simply spectacular. Move over, Japan!’
It wasn’t that good. Was it? And since when had her mother given a fig about foliage?
‘Did you know blossom is symbolic of beauty, love, hope?’ Pearl continued to babble, pointing to Teijo’s pad, as though he should write that down.
Lessons in love from Pearl Bagnor?
‘Once we start filling this allotment with new life, and more couples come here to enjoy it, they’ll soon stop calling us loveless. Well done, Devan, for funding it,’ Pearl concluded. ‘What a fantastic idea.’
Alyssa gave a small clap, which wasn’t at all sarcastic. She was pleased to note Devan looked a little awkward.
Teijo nodded, made a few notes, and then went off to gather kit.