Two heartwarming short stories to enjoy

Sunny days are always the best ones in my job, and on that particular Monday morning it seemed the weather would be bright all day long.the birds sang happily and I whistled along with them.

I love the freshness first thing, even on warm days. Morning dew adds a sheen to the pavements.

It’s peaceful, too.the world hasn’t quite woken up and I have time to think and plan, especially with our allotments’ flower and veg show coming up.

I wheeled my trolley along the gutter, sweeping here and sweeping there.

“A place for everything, and everything in its place, Robbie.” Mum’s words rang in my head as I emptied dirt and grit from my dustpan into the trolley’s compartment.

Early mornings mean an early finish, when I hurry down to my allotment.

I’ve got my eye on a special prize in a new section in the flower and veg show and very different for me. Last year I won second and third prizes for my beetroots and spinach.

Victor, my neighbour at the allotments, is my biggest competition. He always beats me to first prize, but I’m determined to up my game this year.

The back doors of nightclubs line the cobbled alleyway, too narrow for the huge streetcleaner vehicles with spiralling brushes to swish and clean.

There’s always litter left from night revellers. It’s amazing what they leave behind.

That day, something exciting cropped up.

Using my road-cleaner gloves, I scooped up broken beer bottles.then I noticed something glittering at the kerbside.

I brushed grime away from a woman’s evening shoe and held it up to the light. It sparkled.

What a shame, lying there discarded in the dirt.

It probably cost a pretty penny, so I handed it in at the Pumpkin Seed Café round the corner, thinking if they put it in their shop window the shoe’s owner might see it.

I laughed to think of its wearer hobbling home the night before.

Soon it was the eve of the flower and veg show.

From the cracked window inside my shed I was admiring my allotment when I noticed Victor near my fence having a look.

I knocked on the window and waved. He waved back, but scuttled away, wearing a sheepish expression.

My produce glowed in the evening light.top job was to water them.the veggies needed to be firm and plump.

The flower-beds wanted attention, too. I grabbed canes and went outside.

Victor was on his patch, bending down doing chores.

I dug and weeded before scattering broken eggshells around to deter creepy crawlies. Nothing was going to threaten my blooms before tomorrow.

Daydreaming about winning the prize, I plunged the watering-can into the water butt. Victor shouted across.

“Hi, Robbie. Busy day?”

“So, so,” I replied, trying to shield my best crops.

“What are you putting in the show tomorrow?”

“The usual.”

I began watering the plants.

My roses and freesias were ideal for what I planned.

I’d thought long and hard about the allotments’ new section and theme.

“Fairy Tale”.

It was tricky, and I only decided on a solution a few days before. Once the idea came to me, I dashed to the café and peered through the window. The shoe was still there. Next morning, I arrived at the allotment at the crack of dawn, picking and cutting what I needed.

Inside the community hall hosting Ermingdale’s flower and veg show, I got the jitters. I had experience in setting up vegetables, but flowers were different.

The place was busy. I looked around, checking out my competition and clutching my trug of precious flowers.

I found my allocated space, set to work and was pleased with the result.

“I declare this show open.the judging has been completed and the awards and cups will be presented at half past three,” Joey Sinclair, the local radio gardening presenter announced to the crowd.

I moved towards the table holding my flowers. victor was beside my exhibit.

Grinning at me, he gave me a thumbs-up sign.

“I didn’t know you were into flower-arranging, Roberta.” He laughed .“i guessed it was you when I saw these.” He nodded towards the flowers.

I scowled. “Roberta’s too girlie. I’ve called myself Robbie since I was six. I was always a tomboy. Can you imagine the guys at the depot calling me Roberta? But it’s OK for a flower arranger.”

I stooped to read the firstprize card.

“Funny sort of vase.” Victor smiled as rainbows spangled on to the walls behind the Cinderella shoe.

“Yes. who’d have thought something found on my round would lead to a first prize?” I said proudly. “let’s go and see how we’ve both done in the vegetable and fruit classes.”

But, somehow they didn’t seem to be so important any more.

For more short stories don’t miss the latest edition of The People’s Friend