The allotment was buzzing with people that weekend. Everyone hard at work, pausing only for a little glimpse of other people’s treasures. Annie’s mum had a tomato that was growing in the shape of a cow – four little legs and a head sprouting off a huge body – and was definitely a contender for the ugliest vegetable. Jonathan was keeping all his plants under wraps, swathing them in netting and some old lace curtains. Jack’s strawberries were by far the best on the whole allotment – all cultivated from plants he’d brought back from Spain on his boat. Annie, Emily and Jane didn’t have anything that looked like it might win a prize.
‘Our courgettes have all gone white,’ said Annie, prodding a leaf with the tip of her hoe.
Jane bent down with her secateurs and started chopping off the affected leaves. ‘It’s mildew. I think they’ll be OK, but all our beans are ruined. Look, the slugs have had ’em.’
They all peered over at the runner beans and sweet peas, the plants decimated.
‘Well who was meant to put the slug pellets down?’ Annie frowned.
Emily made a face. ‘I think that was meant to be me? I hate it though. They get all shrivelled up and die.’
Annie rolled her eyes. ‘That’s the point of a slug pellet.’
‘Well I’d rather they ate the beans and didn’t die.’
‘That’s so ridiculous.’ Annie stormed off to where all their equipment was being stored in one of Emily’s old removals boxes and came back with the pellets. ‘I’m not coming here every day after work for some bloody slugs to eat everything.’
‘You don’t come every day,’ Emily said.
‘I come more than you. You weren’t here at the beginning of the week – that’s why the beetroots and the carrots look so shit. They’ve dried up.’
‘OK!’ Jane held her hands up. ‘Stop it. Stop arguing. The beetroots are fine. The carrots are fine. The sunflowers are fine.’
‘They’re not as good as anyone else’s here though. Have you seen Annie’s mum’s? And Jack’s?’ Emily pointed over to Jack’s allotment where ten or fifteen sunflowers were standing tall like cadets, their big heads straining to get more of the blistering sun. ‘I’m hot,’ Emily added, walking away from the other two to stand under the shade of the damson tree.
Annie made a big show of scattering slug pellets far and wide, while Jane carried on sawing off the fungus-ridden courgette leaves.
‘Oh my goodness, look at this!’ Emily suddenly shouted. ‘Look! Look at this!’ She was pointing furiously at the stakes in front of her. ‘Look we have a dahlia! We have loads of bloody dahlias.’
Annie and Jane stopped what they were doing and came round to have a look. Sure enough, the dahlias, against everyone’s better judgement, had started to grow into strong, lush plants. Little football heads of tucked-in petals were just waiting to pop dark red and crimson. Annie reached out a hand and stroked one of the waxy leaves. Jane cupped the head of one of the buds, the petals just starting to fray, the tight curls of colour like cherries against her skin.
‘Come on, guys,’ Emily said with a laugh. ‘We’re dahlia experts. Who knew?’
Jane bent down to examine the flowers at eye level, then said, ‘They do look like they might have potential.’
Annie bit her lip, her eyes bright at the sight of the big, healthy flowers.
‘We should phone Holly – show her on Facetime.’ Emily got her phone out. ‘See we’re not completely useless. Holly?’
The call connected and suddenly a very pregnant Holly was there on the screen of Emily’s iPhone, behind her they could see the double doors of Wilf’s new restaurant in the South of France.
‘Hello?’ Holly said, peering into her phone. ‘Emily, is that you?’
‘No, Holly, it’s a dahlia,’ said Emily. ‘I’m showing you our potential prize-winners. Look–’ She moved the phone between the caned stalks.
‘Blimey. Very nice, well done.’ Holly laughed. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘So you bloody should be,’ Emily said, turning the phone round and holding it at arm’s length so Holly could look at the three of them. ‘You didn’t think we had it in us, did you?’
Holly made a face, clearly deciding whether to lie or not and then said, ‘No, you’re right. I admit I didn’t. I’m sorry. So what else have you grown?’
Emily sucked in a breath. ‘That’s where we possibly don’t have it in us.’
Holly shook her head with a laugh. ‘Well, if you can get the dahlia’s award, Enid will be proud. Hey, have you read those diaries yet?’
‘I’ve started,’ said Jane. ‘But I haven’t had much time.’
‘I’ve said just skip to the juicy bits,’ Emily cut in.
‘Emily, it’s a story,’ Jane sighed. ‘It’s someone’s story. You have to read it all.’
Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Well where have you got to?’
‘Enid’s just started working as an ambulance driver in the war.’
Annie made a face. ‘I didn’t know she was an ambulance driver.’
‘No, neither did I. There’s a tiny mention of Fred – that was her husband’s name, wasn’t it? – he’s at the boat yard where they built the torpedo boats.’
Emily glanced up from the phone to where Martha was working on her corner patch in the distance, dealing with her bees. ‘Have you told Martha all this?’ she asked.
‘She knows, apparently. She told me I shouldn’t read them. Let the past be in the past but, well, I found a mention of my granny. Her and Enid were really close apparently and I didn’t know that.’ Jane looked between them all. ‘I don’t have any family left and it’s quite nice to learn about someone new. I never knew her. Do you think that’s bad? Reading when Martha’s said not to?’
‘No,’ Holly said from the iPhone. ‘No, I think Enid would want you to do whatever you liked. Keep going. Martha’s just nervous.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Jane said. Then she looked up from the phone and saw something that made her catch her breath.
‘What?’ said Annie, following Jane’s stare. ‘Wow.’
‘What are you looking at?’ Holly asked from the iPhone. ‘What’s going on, Emily, what are they looking at?’
‘I don’t know.’ Emily frowned and looked from Holly to where Jane and Emily were staring at a person wheeling a barrow full of compost along the path by their allotment. ‘Oh my god!’
‘What!’ said Holly, ‘Turn me round. What are you looking at?’
‘It’s Jack,’ Emily murmured, turning the phone round so Holly could see. ‘He’s shaved off his beard.’
Jack glanced their way, the sun bright behind him. When he saw them all staring he gave them a two-fingered salute, a smile spreading across his face. The beard was gone and in its place the smooth line of his jaw. The hair was gone as well, shorn off like he’d cut it himself with the shears, messy and black and half flopping over his eyes. Eyes that still gleamed the palest blue but now even more so because you could see his skin, the angle of his cheekbones and his jaw, and it was suddenly like Jack was back. The cool, cocky character who’d lain on the hay bale at the festival, an aura of calm and a glint of mischief.
Emily found she couldn’t stop smiling when she finally breathed out.