we can start to grow our own veg to help the planet.’
I dish out the recycled plastic pots to the kids and each comes up one at a time to put in some compost. Then I show them how to push the bean seeds into the pots. Finally a little water and they all look very pleased with themselves. Only Zane has managed to spill his earth in his shoe, but he’s tipped it out and refilled the pot so it’s all good. ‘Okay, so don’t forget to water these little guys, and speak to them often.’
‘Talk to plants?’ asks Milo, obviously perturbed that his teacher is losing her mind.
If it’s good enough for Prince Charles, it’s good enough for me. ‘Yep a lot of gardeners do it. The plants like it – it makes them grow better.’ Goodness knows what parents are going to be saying about me. Never mind, the kids have enjoyed it and that’s the main thing.
As I arrive back at the flats, parking carefully by the bins, a message pings up on my phone. Did you mean it when you said your stepdad’s friend would look at my wife’s old writing box? It’s looking very forlorn all broken in the corner.
I quickly type back. Yes of course. He said he would have a look this weekend.
That’s wonderful. I don’t suppose you could pick it up soon? It makes me feel so sad seeing it sitting in bits on the dresser like that.
I could come and get it now if you like. I will look after it for you very carefully.
You are a treasure! Please do drop by – I’ll put it outside the door.
No problem!
I wander up to the flat, put my bits away on the table and wash my hands.
‘Do you fancy chips tonight?’ Erica shouts from the shower.
‘Definitely.’
‘I’ll pick some up on the way home then.’
‘Sounds perfect. Get an extra portion for Jack, would you?’
There’s a brief silence. ‘All right. He might as well move in here. You’re always feeding him.’
‘I’m not,’ I reply indignantly. Except I am actually; all the time. Perhaps I’m a feeder, or whatever they call it. He seems to like it though, and I love our chats on the balcony. They’re the highlight of my day. Our next project is operation find Bertie a dog. Once I’ve checked with him that he wants one of course.
Chapter 28
Jack
‘Do you think we should have looked to see if we can find Bertie a dog before asking him if he wants one?’ I ask, smiling at Sophia’s enthusiastic tone. I’m lying out on my balcony, the May sunshine warm on my skin. I’ve even got my shorts on. My ridiculously pale legs are reflecting horribly in the sunshine. I’ve noticed there’s fewer pigeons and crows about than usual; perhaps my legs are scaring them away. At least there’s no one to see them. There’s got to be some advantages to lockdown.
‘No,’ Sophia answers, ‘there’s bound to be someone out there who has a dog who needs a home. Fancy some more Twiglets?’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’ I send down the new basket, which Sophia had left outside my door. It came at the right time as my trusty wine carrier came to an unfortunate early demise last week.
‘Oops,’ Sophia had exclaimed loudly and then started laughing.
‘Have I missed something?’ I had been hanging over the balcony aimlessly peering over at the courtyard below and hoping somehow I could magically see her, but of course I couldn’t. I never can.
‘I’ve ripped off the handle, I’m so sorry.’ She had gone off into fits of laughter, not sounding sorry at all.
Her laughter was infectious. ‘Don’t know your own strength? At least I know now not to take you on at arm wrestling when this is all over.’
‘I’m useless at it,’ she had said with a laugh.
‘Don’t believe you now. Send it back up and I’ll assess the damage,’ I had said and within minutes I was in hysterical laughter as well, as I hauled what was left of the carrier back up. Sophia, ever resourceful, had tied a hasty knot, which she had fastened with an array of paperclips and something that appeared to be an old pair of tights attached to a bit of the sparkly wrapping and it looked decidedly sad and skew-whiff. ‘What the heck have you done to it? It’s all mangled!’
She was still laughing. ‘I don’t know how that happened; it just kind of fell apart, and after all