Julia Williams - Pastures New

‘That may be so,’ Mary had replied flatly, ‘but it’s such a long way.’

‘I know,’ Amy had said. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘But that’s not going to stop you, is it?’ The comment had been barbed, and hit home as it was intended to. Amy had flinched, but held firm.

‘No, Mary, it’s not,’ she’d replied, wishing beyond all measure that there was an easy way of doing this, an easy way of creating some distance from her memories.

Sighing, she got Josh out of the car, and peered down at the map the estate agents had given her. According to it, their office should be on the corner.

‘Come on, Josh,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘it’s this way.’

They were just coming up to a little cartway when Josh let go of Amy’s hand.

‘Hey, cool!’ he said, running towards the toy shop on the other side to look at the Spiderman poster in the window.

‘Josh! Come back!’ shouted Amy.

At that moment a motorbike came roaring up the cartway.

‘Josh!’ screamed Amy.

The motorbike braked and swerved, the rider just about avoiding Josh and retaining control.

‘Josh, are you okay?’ Amy ran to her son and took him in her arms, trembling violently. ‘You never, ever run off like that again, do you hear?’

Josh burst into tears – whether because of the telling-off or the fright he had had, Amy wasn’t sure. But he was all right. She took a deep breath. That was all that mattered.

‘Just what the hell did you think you were doing?’ she screamed at the rider, fear turning to fury.

‘I could say the same thing about you,’ spat out the rider, taking off his helmet to reveal dark hair, brown eyes and a strong, chiselled face, which would have been stern if it were not lightened by a ready smile. ‘Your son ran across the road.’

‘You were going too fast.’ Amy’s tone was accusing.

‘I was doing less than twenty,’ replied the rider. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stop.’

They glared at each other.

‘Is your son okay?’ The rider glanced at Josh, who was squirming out of Amy’s grasp.

‘No thanks to you,’ snapped Amy.

‘I’m sorry to have given you a fright,’ said the rider. ‘And I’m glad your son is all right, really I am. But you shouldn’t let him run off like that.’

Amy couldn’t speak. This stranger was right. Her moment of inattention had nearly got her son killed. She nodded mutely. Tears pricked her eyes. What if the bike had been going faster? She would have lost Josh as well as Jamie.

As if sensing her change of mood, the rider gently said, ‘Look, no harm done, eh?’ He squatted down next to Josh, and added, ‘Hey, tiger, you make sure you hold your mum’s hand really tight when you cross the road next time. You promise?’

‘I promise,’ mumbled Josh.

The rider got up, climbed back on his bike, and roared off up the road.

‘Who was that man, Mummy?’ Josh asked.

‘No one,’ said Amy, as she watched the departing bike, wondering why a stranger’s moment of kindness had made her feel so lonely. ‘Come on,’ she said, rallying herself. ‘Let’s go and find our new home.’

‘And this is the garden …’ The estate agent motioned Amy towards the rickety wooden door leading from the kitchen. Josh, who had been trailing behind them, immediately perked up and pushed his way forwards. Amy took a deep breath. It was still going to be a tough call selling Josh this move, and so far he had been deeply unimpressed, but a garden might just swing it. The shared patch of earth that passed for a garden in their two-bedroom flat in Barnet didn’t amount to much, and Josh was desperate to have somewhere to kick a ball.

‘It’s stuck,’ Josh said, disappointed. The door seemed to have swollen from the recent rain and was rather stiff.

‘Here, let me.’ The estate agent, whom Amy had silently christened Smarmy Simon, had a go. He really had to tug it, but eventually, with a rather worrying rattle, the door opened and they all trooped outside.

Amy knew she should be concerned about details like that. Jamie would have been making a list by now of all the things that were wrong with the place. But she couldn’t – not with the tingling feeling of excitement that had been growing inside her as Smarmy Simon showed her round. It was a long time since she had felt that mixture of hope and anticipation.

The house was perfect. It could have been made for her and Josh. A Victorian terrace, full of character as requested. Three bedrooms, so more than enough room for the pair of them. The downstairs wasn’t huge, and the bathroom was inconveniently next door to the kitchen, as was the case in all these old terraces, but it didn’t matter. There were marble fireplaces, and real wood floors. The kitchen was oak throughout. It was quaint. Even the little archway that joined the house onto its neighbour was attractive. Like the rest of the house, it had charm. It was the house she and Jamie had always dreamed of.

Don’t go there, she admonished herself, reciting the mantra that she had long since perfected to retain her sanity as she emerged into the sunlit garden. It was a bit overgrown, but someone had evidently tended it well in the past. Amy spotted lobelia tumbling out of a couple of cracked earthenware pots, and down one side of a whitewashed wall the honeysuckle was going wild, though beginning to look a little past its sell-by date. There were marigolds in the flowerbeds – self-sown, probably, as it didn’t look as though anyone had planted bedding plants there for a while. They were nestled with wild poppies and nasturtiums. It was beautiful, and Amy longed to start work on it immediately.

‘If you’ll notice, at the end of the garden,’ Smarmy Simon was saying, ‘there’s a gate that leads onto the allotments. I believe the owner still pays rent on hers, and if you were interested she probably wouldn’t have any objection to you using it.’

‘May I?’ Amy asked, pointing at the gate.

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Smarmy Simon. ‘It’s open. No one bothers to lock things much around here.’ His phone started to ring. ‘Will you excuse me for a minute?’ He answered it while waving her on down the path.

As Amy opened the gate, she had to restrain herself from letting rip to whoops of delight. Josh ran round and round in excited circles, shouting loudly. Amy tried to shush him – there didn’t appear to be any other children on the allotments, and she didn’t want to irritate people – but his enthusiasm was infectious. It was perfect, absolutely perfect.

From the road, she would have had no idea this was here. The allotments spread out before her, a tiny green oasis in the middle of a small but busy market town. They were alive with the sound of birdsong, and looked well cared for. Presently, being the middle of the day, they were mainly empty. She heard the sound of a mower in the distance, and was startled by the appearance of a rather hairy-looking man, dressed in black leather, who appeared to be talking to something in a bucket.

‘There you are, me beauties,’ he was muttering, ‘have I got a treat for you.’

Passing by his plot, a ramshackle affair with gnarled fruit trees protected by netting, and strange wooden contraptions that Amy supposed were homemade compost heaps, she and Josh wandered down a wide path. This was glorious, quite glorious.

She could see another man pausing from digging up vegetables on one of the other plots. A black Labrador sat at his side, panting in the midday sun. The man had obviously been exerting himself – he had taken his shirt off, and was swigging some water. There was something vaguely familiar about him. He leaned on his spade for a moment, before returning to his digging. Amy turned away.