Pastures New. Julia Williams
boasted two decent-looking pubs – the Plough at one end of the high street, and the Magpie at the other. Not that Amy had much time or inclination to go into pubs, but they might be worth investigating for Sunday lunches. According to Saffron, whom she had seen a couple of times that week on the way to school, the Magpie was quite family friendly.
Amy had also discovered the library and the town hall, where she had managed to find the number of the local education authority and register for supply teaching. Luckily she wasn’t desperate, so she could afford a couple of weeks off to sort herself out. She had also signed up at the doctor’s and the dentist’s, which were in the same location, a smart new purpose-built building, just off the high street. All in all, despite a couple of terse conversations with Mary on the phone, and a niggling angst about Josh, who had cried every morning when leaving for school, she had been too busy so far to feel gloomy.
Her only real headache was that ever since they’d arrived in the house the bathroom tap had been dripping and driving her mad. So today, with Josh safely ensconced in front of the TV watching Thunderbirds, and armed with a spanner and some washers, she had decided to take the bull by the horns and reseat the taps. She had seen Jamie doing it a dozen times. It couldn’t be too difficult, could it?
Apparently, it could. For a start, the taps were so corroded it took ages to unscrew them, and then when she applied the spanner to the original washer it just sheared off and pinged in the sink, promptly followed by a jet of water.
‘Sod! Sod and double sod!’ Amy shrieked as water spewed everywhere. She had forgotten to turn the water off at the mains.
‘It’s a bit wet, Mummy.’ The lure of the TV was evidently not enough to prevent Josh from finding out why Mummy was standing knee-deep in water and wailing like a banshee.
‘I know, darling,’ said Amy between gritted teeth. ‘Could you just pass me that bucket, please?’
Josh passed it to her and she placed it under the flood while she frantically looked around for something to plug up the hole. Ignoring Josh’s pleas to be allowed to play with the water, she eventually found a flannel, which she stuffed down as far as it would go. It seemed to work as a temporary fix. She ran into the kitchen, and after a few false starts managed to locate the mains tap and turn the water off, and then returned to survey the damage.
The reward for her labours was one sodden bathroom, a tap to which she couldn’t fit a new washer and a feeling of absolute failure.
‘You should have got a plumber,’ observed Josh, with all the sensitivity of a five-year-old. He was right of course, which didn’t help. It was at times like this that Amy missed Jamie the most. There was only her to do the job, and she had made a hash of it. She hated feeling like a useless girl, and yet here she was acting like one. Even her five-year-old son knew it.
‘We’d better go and see Harry,’ she said to Josh with a rueful smile.
But Harry was out, and Amy was at a bit of a loss.
‘Maybe he’s on the allotments,’ Amy mused. ‘Shall we go and look for him, Josh?’
Josh agreed with alacrity, particularly when Amy said he could take his ball with him. They hadn’t had a chance to go out there properly yet, and it would be a good excuse to go and have a look at Caroline’s patch. Harry had told her that there was stuff growing on it, and that some of Caroline’s friends had been trying to keep it tidy, but it needed, in his words, ‘a good going over’. Amy had been resisting the siren call of the allotments ever since, as she had been too busy with essential stuff, but here was a reason to go.
As she stepped out onto the allotments, Amy gave a deep sigh of contentment. The sound of cattle lowing in the distance reminded her how far she was from the city. However alone and useless she felt, this had been a good decision. Josh immediately ran off, kicking his ball and whooping wildly. And the allotments were as wonderful as she remembered them; even more so at this turn of the seasons. The leaves were starting to go yellow now, and some were already falling from the trees. There was a distinct whiff of autumn in the air, several of the plots were already being dug over, and a sharp chill presaged the frosts to come.
Following Josh, Amy struggled down the path outside her garden gate, which was rather more overgrown than on her last visit, and gazed ahead of her. Harry had said Caroline’s plot was across the main path that ran through the allotments and slightly to the left, which made it roughly next to the one where she had seen the bike rider. Oh lord, she hoped he wouldn’t be out there. Remembering what had happened last time, she called Josh to come back to her. Much as she had disliked the man, it wouldn’t do to go round upsetting the neighbours so soon.
As she approached the plot, there was a strong smell of manure. The bike rider’s plot still had vegetables growing, but he was evidently getting ready to turn over the ground for the autumn. And ah, yes, the plot next door did look quite overgrown. It must be Caroline’s. Though in among the weeds Amy could see plenty of potatoes, and at the far end were a couple of fruit trees, so she might get something from this year’s crop.
She and Josh were just crossing the corner of the plot, when she heard a barking and something like a speeding bullet came flying towards her. That damned dog again. Josh screamed, and before she knew what was happening she was on her back in the pile of manure, with a black dog leaping all over her, licking her face.
Squinting up at the sun, in a mixture of fury and embarrassment, she saw the figure of a man.
‘Down, Meg! Bad dog!’ The man offered a hand towards her, saying, ‘I am so, so sorry. Are you all right?’
Amy stumbled to her feet and grabbed hold of Josh. She glared at the man standing before her.
‘I might have known it would be you,’ she said.
‘I don’t suppose it would help if I told you that I don’t know what came over Meg. Really, she isn’t usually like that.’ Her biker looked suitably discomfited.
‘No?’ Amy tried to muster what dignity she could, excruciatingly aware that she was covered in manure and must smell terrible. ‘First your wretched dog frightens my son, and then she knocks me flying into a pile of manure. She should be locked up!’
Ben bristled. ‘Well, your son doesn’t seem too traumatised, does he?’
Amy turned to look behind her, to discover that Josh was playing happily with Meg, who was licking his fingers.
‘Pooh, Mummy, you stink,’ he said.
It was no good. Irritated as she was with this man and his damned dog, it was incredibly hard to stay on your high horse when an infant had just pointed out the obvious. Amy did indeed stink. And there was the slight matter of how she was going to clean herself up.
‘Oh God, he is so right,’ she said, unable to prevent the small grin that was forcing its way across her face.
There was an awkward pause for a moment, neither of them quite knowing what to say next, then Ben, feeling that he was being rather ungallant, asked, ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘You could let her have a bath,’ Josh declared. ‘We’ve got no water. Mummy isn’t a very good plumber.’
‘Is that so?’ Ben was grinning now too, while Amy tried to shut Josh up. Honestly. Children could really be the limit sometimes.
‘Yes, well,’ said Amy squirming, ‘I had a small fight with the taps and the taps won. So now I’ve got no water.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Ben, trying and failing to suppress laughter.
‘It’s not funny,’ protested Amy, in a rather feeble manner. ‘I was coming out here to see if I could find my neighbour, Harry, and ask him if he knew a plumber.’
‘You won’t find Harry today,’ said Ben, ‘he’s gone to one