King of the carrots

Helen worries she’s losing her husband to the allure of the allotment, until she hatches a plan to change things

Helen had been flicking aimlessly through the newspaper when she saw it: a full-page advert for a weekend of family fun at the local park. It sounded brilliant with food tents, all-day music, face-painting and a funfair for the children.

“It’d be a nice change don’t you think?” Geoff was barely through the door when she suggested it. “We could even get the grandchildren down, make a weekend of it.”

“This weekend?” Geoff said, already not sounding keen.

“I checked the weather forecast and we might even need sun cream.” Helen sold it as best she could.

“I don’t know…” Her husband’s face showed his answer. “You know I like to spend my weekends at the allotment.”

Helen’s smile drooped. “Couldn’t you just take one weekend off?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said sharply. “It’s a delicate process growing your own veg, you know. The more attention you pay them, the better the reward.”

Helen fought back a groan.

It was her own fault, of course. She’d heard about the free space at the allotment and mentioned it over dinner one evening, for conversation more than anything. Not once before had Geoff shown any interest in living ‘The Good Life’ but now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Besides,” he added with boyish enthusiasm, “it’s going to be a big weekend down there.”

Helen flared her nostrils. “Why? Is there another ceremonial planting of cucumber or christening of the cauliflowers?”

“We’re pulling up the carrots,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“We?” Helen cocked her head, about to add she wouldn’t be roped into any of this carrot-pulling malarkey.

“Fred and I. He has the plot

beside mine. Thinks he can grow a better carrot than I do for the allotment competition.

He’s in for a surprise when he sees mine, though.”

Helen didn’t bother replying. She was feeling more than a bit cross that her husband was more interested in some silly carrot-growing war than spending time with her and the grandchildren.

“But you go ahead,” Geoff added, unaware of his wife’s simmering rage. “You’ll have a great time.”

Helen spent Friday night tossing and turning, unable to sleep while Geoff contentedly snored beside her. Probably dreaming about one of his cabbages, she thought with a tut. Why on earth had she mentioned the allotment to him in the first place? And was this a sign of things to come?

Geoff would soon be retiring. Would he want to spend every morning, noon and night at the allotment? The thought alone made Helen shudder. She vowed to do all she could to stop losing her husband to the allotment completely. She was far too young to be a widow.

As it turned out, Helen’s grandchildren had already been invited to a birthday party at the weekend so Helen found herself traipsing around the park on her own.

She was feeling more than a bit cross that her husband was more interested in some silly carrot-growing war than spending time with her and the grandchildren

She hadn’t got a minute’s sleep with the allotment on her mind and wasn’t really in the mood for watching a local band murder Sweet Caroline but she clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

The song was still stuck in her head that evening when Geoff returned from the allotment.

“You’ll never guess what happened?” he said. Helen could barely stifle a yawn.

“Talk about drama,” Geoff announced with the seriousness saved for major world events. “Someone has vandalised the carrot patch.”

“Really?” Helen was suddenly paying attention.

“Poor Fred. I thought the old man was going to drop dead on the spot.” He shook his head. “And then he had the cheek to blame me for it!”

“He did?” Helen said with surprise. “He said I was the only one who had a motive because I was jealous of his carrots.” He laughed at the thought. “Old man probably staged the whole thing himself knowing I was only hours away from being crowned the winner of the carrotgrowing competition. I mean, who else would do something like that?”

Helen didn’t reply, but instead returned to washing the dishes, scrubbing her hands as she did, paranoid there might be a grain of soil wedged behind her nails. She hadn’t meant to target Fred’s carrots, too; the place had been too dark to differentiate between the plots. And she’d only seen Geoff’s allotment once before.

“I suppose you’ll be down again there tomorrow, then?” she said to fill the suspicious silence.

“I think I’ll give it a miss, actually,” Geoff replied “Might be best if I avoid Fred for a few days… We could head down to the last day of that family fun weekend if you fancy?”

It was the last thing Helen had expected to hear, but it brought a huge smile to her face. In that moment any guilt she felt about Fred and his poor allotment vanished. She’d managed to steal her husband away from planting his precious seeds for a day, and that’s all that she’d been hoping for.