The Start of Something by Miranda Dickinson

Author:Miranda Dickinson [Dickinson, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

BETHAN

I’m still shaking.

It’s Friday afternoon and Darren is being more of an arse than usual. But all I can think about is Lachie.

I thought we’d get on. I hoped it would be fun. But I never expected him.

Who am I kidding? I’m crazy about him.

‘And another thing, while you were off farting about on the company’s time, I was left to deal with bonkers old women asking for you.’

‘For me?’

‘Something about emails?’

Oh, result! ‘Who were they? Did they say where they were from?’

Darren observes me like a sack of rotting manure. ‘How the hell should I know?’

‘Sorry. I’ve been contacting local community groups as part of this project for Hattie, asking if they’d like to get involved.’

The mention of Hattie and the project is a mistake. I know it the moment I see my manager’s expression. ‘Are you taking the pee? We need funding for this place, not bake sales and knitting.’

‘Right, I mean we’re working on that…’

‘Oh, you are? Would that be you and your co-workers Sky TV and McDonald’s?’

I let it slide. I am friends with a gorgeous neighbour who is cheeky as all get out but has the softest skin on his arms and the loveliest smile… Darren can say what he wants to me today and it won’t matter. I am impervious. I am a duck in a mackintosh. It’s all just going to slide right off me… ‘So, did they leave their details?’

‘They tried.’

Crap. ‘What did you do?’

‘I don’t like this attitude, Bethan. I think maybe I should have a word with Hattie, tell her how your extracurricular activities are affecting your work.’

I keep my nerve steady. ‘What did they look like?’

‘Old. Female. Tits to their knees.’

‘Okay, there’s no need for that.’

He holds up both hands like I’ve just threatened to griddle them. ‘Does nobody have a sense of humour these days? You can’t joke about anything without some screaming liberal snowflake wagging her finger…’ Seeing my stare, he relents a little. ‘I think they said WI. I don’t know which one.’

‘Thank you, Darren.’

It’s not much and it could be any one of eight WI groups I’ve emailed. It’s a good development that someone responded, but moves me no further on.

I just have to hope they get back in touch.

The morning passes surprisingly quickly as I tackle the ever-growing mountain of jobs Darren has given me. Most of them involve heavy lifting, it seems, or pointlessly moving one set of plants from one side of the nursery to the other. Patrick is busy helping Eric in the polytunnels today, continuing his education about propagating plants from cuttings and seeds. I miss our banter, but I like having my own space to work in, especially with my current frame of mind.

There are a few more people about, which is promising. The sun we’ve had over the last few days might just have got them all dreaming of barbecues and outside gatherings. Murray is building a ‘barbecue garden’ in one of our three tiny courtyard plots that face the café windows – plants and colours and shapes inspired by a summer barbecue.

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