With a slow drip-feed of encouragement, Albie convinced some residents to join him in the main allotment one sunny afternoon, freeing the weed-tangled vegetables and turning the dried soil over with trowels. They unearthed rows of green courgettes, marrows, spinach, potatoes, pumpkins and runner beans in varying states of maturity, along with a juicy blackberry bush, which could be harvested later in the summer.
Kit surprised everyone by appearing with Ezra strapped to his chest, getting stuck in heaving bags of mulch around, looking glad to be out of his flat in the company of adults. Albie smiled, listening to conversations about the warming weather and how summer was approaching. Noticing how people relaxed with the fresh air and opportunity to dig their hands in the soil. Tori was in the corner with her back to the wooden fence where she felt safest, while Theo clicked through the radio dial, searching for a decent station before landing on ’90s hits. Harley was clearingout the olive-green shed at the bottom of the rectangular plot with Rosie’s help, careful to avoid looking at Kirsten as she dug up earth a few feet away. She seemed equally determined not to glance at him, only stopping to tighten her hair when it slipped loose from a high ponytail. The tension was palpable, especially when Kirsten’s polite mask slipped, and Albie caught a mixture of hurt, anger and longing on her face.
Kneeling on a foam mat to protect his creaking knees, he thought he should find a way to repay her thoughtfulness and support. She’d been such a help with the cottage arrangements, and this morning he’d found a box of home-baked cheese scones on his doormat, together with a small jar of fresh jam, tub of clotted cream and succulent strawberries. At this rate, he’d be the size of a bus by Christmas, as would the others if she was bestowing equal kindness on them. Her profit margins would be severely compromised. Had she done similar where she lived before, or was it the manor’s influence? Did the walls whisper to her, offering suggestions, or was it the community bonds they were forging?
Rosie’s piping voice caught his attention, chattering away to Harley. ‘My birthday’s soon, and I love unicorns and pool parties, but I don’t have many friends yet, and mummy said everything is booked because we’ve just moved here and…’ Her little face screwed up.
‘Um,hey, no waterworks, okay, kid?’ Harley patted her shoulder.
Kirsten started towards them, expression darkening as Albie clambered to his feet, cursing his aching bones. By the time he made it over to the little group, Rosie was tear sodden, Harley’s face was rigid, and Kirsten was comforting her daughter while glaring at him.
‘Hey,’ Harley held his palms up, ‘I barely said anything. It’s not my fault you haven’t organised?—’
‘Helpful, thanks. You know, you really are?—’
‘If I may,’ Albie intervened to defuse the tension, remembering the rule for living he’d hung that morning, ‘I’d love to help make her day special. I’ve plenty of time on my hands, even with the cottages.’
‘Really?’ Hope lit up Kirsten’s face. ‘That would be great.’
‘Really?’ Rosie lisped.
‘Yes.’ An idea popped into his head. ‘Harley, why don’t you two carry on with the shed, while Kirsten and I go chat?’
‘Uh, alright.’ Harley turned his baseball cap backward on his head so he could peer down into the little girl’s face. ‘Come on, kid. There might even be some pocket money if you do a good job.’
‘Yay!’ She wrapped her arms around his waist, making him stagger sideways. ‘I’m saving up for a unicorn toy, but my piggy bank isn’t very full.’
‘What?’ Kirsten said defensively, when Harley gave her a look. ‘I pay for her labour with cakes.’
‘Not helpful when all you want is a unicorn toy,’ he drawled, peeling Rosie’s arms from his waist but grasping one of her hands.
‘Let’s go,’ Albie told Kirsten.
‘Uh-huh.’ Her expression was troubled, murmuring, ‘She’d better not get too attached.’
As they walked away, they heard Rosie ask, ‘Will you dress up for my party? Like, be smart?’
Harley’s chuckle echoed across the allotment. ‘I think there’s an insult in there somewhere, but I’ll bite. How would you like me to be smart?’
There was no hesitation. ‘Shave your beard off.’
Kirsten snorted. ‘Gotta love children.’
‘Quite.’ Albie joined in with her laughter, mirth expanding his chest and warming his heart.
Ten busy days later, he stood in the sloped back garden grinning with satisfaction. He was sure his late wife would not only have approved of, but positively loved this.
The outside space teemed with Rosie’s class and their assorted guardians, the arbour resplendent with ivy and pink roses, floral lanterns hanging from tree branches and bunches of foil unicorn balloons held down by weights around the neat lawn. The gate of the walled garden stood open so visitors could wander in and admire the roses. A long trestle table with rainbow tablecloths was covered with plates, cups, napkins and cutlery, bottles of pop and centrepieces made from bowls of skittles with sparkly stars stuck around the edges. A BBQ smoked away to one side, manned by a series of dads trying to show off their meat-cooking skills, and on the opposite end of the lawn a paddling pool stood next to the main attraction: the unicorn bouncy castle. The way Rosie’s face lit up when she’d seen it made all the hard work worthwhile.
Harley had taken charge earlier, meeting the bouncy castle company at the manor gates and showing them where to set up. He’d also assisted Ariel and Gilly with decorating the garden, sweating and hauling things around without complaint. Albie couldn’t imagine anyone doing any more for their own child. It was an interesting situation, given Harley’s original reluctance to get involved. He’d also trimmed his beard, and maybe it wasn’t the clean-shaven look the birthday girl hoped for, but she’d crowed with delight when seeing the shorter whiskers, exclaiming, ‘Yay! I can see more of your face.’
He’d responded sardonically. ‘Maybe not such a good thing.’
Kirsten, stealing a quick glance at his masculine jaw line, muttered something about a gift table and fled.
Now, Albie studied the diverse group of families and children mingling with his neighbours, wearing a wide grin. A kind but firm monologue to the manor at lunchtime had securedtacit agreement it’d let all partygoers locate the village for the party, and as the building’s honey bricks shimmered in the May sunshine, Albie could swear it was puffed up with pride.
Wandering over to the table for a glittery berry squash he’d found on the internet, he idly listened to one family’s plans for the coming May half-term week, before another parent made a scathing remark about the ruins at the bottom of the hill. Teeth grinding, he turned around to defend the cottages. However, Theo had already paused his conversation with Gilly to tell the judgemental woman in minute detail about the property’s history and their ambitious plans before saying they were being ably supported by a council officer. The woman gaped, before murmuring a quick,right,sorry.
