Page 35 of The Lottery Win
Because whether it was sensible or not, I was always goingto say yes...
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
The following morning, I wake early, excited about thetrip to Edinburgh. We’re catching a train this afternoon, staying overnight ata B&B, then picking up the car – a Jag – and driving it back for a customerthe following day.
I’m driving over to Doug’s flat soon after twelve, leavingthe car there and taking a taxi with him to the station, then we’ll travel onup to Edinburgh.
But in the meantime, I have four hours to kill, so I getdressed in oldish clothes and head out into a beautifully sunny morning with mybag of new gardening tools. The back garden is already bathed in warmth, eventhough it’s still quite early, and I pause on the patio – drawing in deepbreaths of the fresh, country air – to admire my new fountain. Adam haspromised to nip over one day this week and help me set it up, glowing lightsand everything.
I’m concentrating on making lines in the compost and shakingin seeds from the packet, when a gruff voice says, ‘Bit late to be plantingtomatoes.’
I spin round and an older man in grey overalls is standingthere. ‘Oh. Hi. I didn’t hear you arrive.’ Over his shoulder I spot a batteredold Land Rover parked in the lane.
‘Hamish Weatherall. Sheep farmer. Your nearest neighbour.’He moves forward with a smile and I shake his tanned, weather-beaten hand. ‘Wewere wondering who’d rented the cottage after the Mickelsons left in such ahurry.’
‘Yes, it’s me.’ I stand up and smile at him, pushing thehair out of my eyes. ‘I’m Krystle. Krystle Cartwright.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Krystle. Is it just you?’
I nod. ‘Just me. But I’m loving it here.’
He glances around and nods approvingly. ‘The Mickelsonsalways did a good job of the garden, I’ll say that for them.’ He raises oneeyebrow as if reflecting that the Mickelsons didn’t do much else worth hisapproval.
‘So you think I’m planting the wrong things, then?’ I showhim my, as yet unopened, packets of seeds.
Hamish fishes glasses from his pocket, puts them on and studiesthem. ‘Well, you can plant most of these early next year and they’ll give you aplentiful harvest in the summer. But for now, you’d be looking at things like lettuce,spinach, and spring onions, maybe, and winter vegetables.’ He rubs the stubbleon his chin thoughtfully. ‘My wife, Susie... she grows veg andwe sell it at the local farmers’ market so we’ve got more seedlings in thegreenhouse than we know what to do with. I’ll bring some over for you if youlike.’
‘Oh, thank you. That’s really kind of you. Your wife musthave green fingers, being able to grow enough to sell at the market.’
‘Well, every little bit of extra money helps these days,let’s face it.’
I nod, noticing his weary expression. ‘It can’t be an easylife, being a farmer?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s all I know, to be honest. We inherited thefarm from my dad. But Susie has Multiple Sclerosis and she can’t work on thefarm like she used to. Even the vegetables are beyond her, really, but sheinsists on doing what she can and I help out, of course.’ He smiles fondly.Then he glances at his watch. ‘She was in a bit of a state earlier so I’dbetter get back.’
‘Oh, dear. What happened?’
‘Problem with her disability payments.’ He frowns. ‘Themoney hasn’t gone into her account for some reason and we rely on that cash. I triedto put her mind at rest. I told her it’ll just be a mix-up but she’s worried.I’m going to phone up and find out what’s going on when I get back.’ He turnsto leave.
‘Okay. Well, good luck with that. I hope you sort it out.’
‘Nice to meet you, Krystle.’ At the gate, he calls, ‘It’s a bittoo late to be planting sprouts for your Christmas dinner, but you can alwaysget some at the local farmers’ market nearer the time.’
‘Lovely.’
I wave him off in his Land Rover with a cheery smile,feeling glad to have met my neighbour. And a really nice man, at that. Such ashame about his wife.
One thing’s for sure, though.
I’ll pass on the sprouts for Christmas dinner!
*****
I’m driving to meet Doug for the train when I hear on theradio that our destination, Edinburgh, is going to be an exciting place tovisit over the next few weeks. Each August, the city holds one of the greatestcelebrations of arts and culture in the world – the annual Edinburgh Festivaland Fringe – and according to the presenter, it’s already kicked off.
I’m not sure we’ll have the time to take in any shows whilewe’re there. But the city is sure to be abuzz with people and activity, whichwill give me a real lift. Living out in the country, I find I’m missing beingaround people. (Apart from April, obviously, who I dearly hope I never have tosee again in my life.) I keep thinking fondly of my lovely neighbours at theold flat and hoping they’re doing okay. Perhaps I’ll pop in and see them sometime...
My heart is beating a little faster as I pull into Doug’sstreet and park next to his Peugeot, and when I buzz his flat, he answersimmediately and says he’ll be straight down.
