Cinnamon Gardens

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘This is my youngest son.’

  Owen studied him, the scrutiny going on for so long that Steve felt uncomfortable, then before he knew what was happening, Owen had felt his bicep.

  ‘Not used his muscles much, has he?’

  ‘No. He hasn’t used his brain much, either.’ His father glared at him. ‘If he has one.’

  Owen grinned. ‘Right then, lad, listen carefully. I’ve helped quite a few young fellows in the same sort of trouble as yourself, and most of them did well out of our programme. It’s not easy; it’s hard work. But if you’re not prepared even to give it a try, if you’re thinking of running away, save us all a load of trouble and do it now.’

  Steve’s father let out a snort and both men waited for Steve to say something. But what was there to say? He had no choice but to go with this Owen fellow.

  ‘Um … what sort of work is it exactly? Dad didn’t say.’

  ‘Farm work, basically, but we also help a charity by restoring old farm machinery for Third World countries. So if you have a mechanical turn of mind you might move on to that later.’

  ‘Um. No. I’m not mechanical. Well, I don’t think I am. Except for computers. I’m good with them, built my own.’

  Another pause, then. ‘Well, you won’t be using a computer for a while. Grab your things and let’s go. We’ve a long drive ahead of us.’

  ‘Where exactly is your farm?’

  ‘Inland from Albany. Not near any town you’d recognise. We’re ten miles from the nearest town, actually, which has a population of two hundred and seventy-six and one pub, which is also the general store.’

  Steve’s heart sank. Oh, hell. There’d be no nipping out for a beer, then, because his father was going to sell his car to help pay for his debts. He’d be trapped in the middle of nowhere.

  At the door Craig put his hand on Steve’s shoulder so he turned round, though all he really wanted was to get the hell out of there.

  ‘If you graduate from the programme I’ll help find you a job.’

  What as? A farm labourer? Steve thought. He thought it wise to say, ‘Thanks.’

  He walked out behind Owen, not looking back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Winifred was both excited and nervous about the garden-sharing meeting. She’d arranged to meet Dan at the senior citizens’ centre a little early. He’d said the local newspaper might be sending a journalist to report on it and they might want to talk to both of them, but she hoped they wouldn’t.

  She was going early not only to support Dan, but because it always felt better to arrive without having to rush, not to speak to the press.

  Janey had realised how nervous she felt and the dear girl had offered to skip a tech class to go with her, but she’d turned that kind offer down. Janey mustn’t miss her classes. And anyway, Dan would be there at the centre.

  Winifred had been to the centre before to attend computer classes for seniors. This time she went by taxi and hang the expense. Molly’s lawyer had called yesterday to say they’d obtained probate and the money would be paid into Winifred’s account within twenty-four hours.

  So now she would be able to afford a computer of her own and anything else she fancied too, like a new winter coat. She didn’t have expensive tastes but she had been making do on a small income for so long that Molly’s bequest seemed like a fortune to her.

  Of course, she’d only have the money that had been in Molly’s bank account till she sold her friend’s house and its contents. She’d never sold a house before, had been born in her present home and never lived anywhere else, but she was sure her friends would help her sort that out.

  Sometimes she wished she’d been able to lead a more interesting life, but she’d done her duty and accepted what fate brought her, and that was a comfort to her. She’d never allowed herself to mope, even during her mother’s difficult final months. Well, what was the use? It wouldn’t have changed anything, would it?

  ‘We’re here, madam.’

  She jerked abruptly out of her thoughts and paid the taxi driver.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Winifred.’

  She turned to smile at Dan. ‘Yes. Here I am, arriving in style.’

  ‘What were you thinking about? You looked deep in thought.’

  ‘As you know, I’ve been left a little money, enough to make my life more comfortable. I was thinking of buying a computer. Will you help me to do that?’

  ‘Of course I will. Now, come inside and settle yourself. You’re sitting at the front table with me and I’m hoping you’ll agree to be our guinea pig.’

  ‘Exactly how do I do that?’

  He patted her hand. ‘Nothing difficult about it. You just have to be the first one to offer your garden and let us practise on you how best to organise the scheme. We won’t do anything you don’t like, I promise.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I suppose I could manage that.’

  ‘You’ve managed to hold your life together through two wars and other hard times, Winifred Parfitt. You can do anything you choose to.’

  She could feel herself blushing at this compliment. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.’ He chuckled as he added, ‘I thought Dawn was running this meeting, but she says you and I are in charge and she’ll just act as our adviser behind the scenes. In other words, she’s tricked us into taking over the project, Win.’

  Panic filled her. ‘I’ve never organised anything as big as this.’

  ‘Me neither. But we’ll cope.’ Dan gave her one of his cheeky grins. ‘After all, they can’t shoot us if we do something wrong, can they?’

  By now Winifred was feeling more like running away than going inside the meeting hall, but she could hardly do that – even if her stiff old legs would run, which they hadn’t managed to do for years. So she squared her shoulders and moved forward.

  They were the first two there, but a young woman followed them inside, pushing a little boy in a shabby buggy.

  ‘Is this the garden-sharing group?’ she asked, so breathless and hesitant it was clear to Winifred that the younger woman was even more nervous than she was.

  ‘It is. Do come in.’

  ‘Who’s this, then?’ Dan smiled down at the little boy sitting sucking a lollipop.

  ‘This is Howie. Say hello to the man, Howie.’

  The child sucked the bright-red sweet even more vigorously and looked at the strangers suspiciously. Dan turned back to the mother. ‘And you are?’

  ‘I’m Izzy, short for Isabel. And I don’t mean to sound negative, but it’s no use me staying unless there’ll be someone to show me what to do. I don’t know anything about gardening, but oh, I’d love to learn. Fresh vegetables taste ever so much nicer and me and Howie like being out in the fresh air.’

  Dan beamed at her ‘I can help you. I’m not up to heavy digging these days, but I know a lot about gardening and I’d enjoy passing on my knowledge. And this is Miss Parfitt, who is generously going to share her garden with someone.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ The young woman started to hold out her hand, looked down at it, then said, ‘I’d better not shake. I’m all sticky from Howie. I don’t usually give him lollipops, but it’ll keep him quiet for ages.’

  About a dozen people turned up, but there was no sign of Dawn, so Dan nudged Winifred and gestured to the platform. When they were both in place there, he stood up and said loudly, ‘Good afternoon, everyone. Shall we begin now?’

  Once people had shuffled and twitched into silent attention, he introduced himself. ‘And this is Miss Parfitt, who has already offered her garden. Can I ask who else has a garden to share?’

  Another middle-aged man and an elderly woman put up their hands.

  ‘I’ll start by explaining the ground rules. We can make up any rules we want, of course, but I have to emphasise that people who want to garden-share are not there to do the owners’ work for them. They take over a portion of the garden to grow their own vegetables an
d fruit, whatever they choose. They keep their own portion tidy and pay for its use by giving the owner a quarter of what they produce.’

  The elderly woman who had volunteered her garden stood up. ‘I thought they were coming to help people who can’t manage the gardening.’

  Patiently, Dan went over the basic idea of the scheme again.

  ‘Oh, I can’t have someone digging up my garden and planting who knows what,’ the woman said. ‘I was told wrongly.’

  She walked out without another word, leaning heavily on a stick and scowling.

  As she was leaving another man came in and slipped into a seat in the back row. He was dressed in a suit and didn’t look at all like a gardener, but when Dan summarised what they’d done so far, he raised his hand.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘I’d like to observe how this is done before I volunteer my garden for the scheme. Is that allowed?’ He didn’t offer his name, just folded his arms and waited.

  Dan didn’t like his tone, didn’t like his face either, if truth be told, or the way he was alternately staring at Winifred and studying the other people in the room. Something about the man was wrong, but it was hard to put your finger on what it was, because the fellow had been perfectly polite and wasn’t down at heel, far from it. Perhaps he was just too elegantly turned out to care about gardening.

  Unfortunately, since this was a public meeting, Dan couldn’t think how to tell him to go away. ‘Yes, well, you must do as you see fit.’ He turned to the older man who’d volunteered without all these ifs and buts. ‘You’re prepared to offer your garden, sir?’

  ‘Yes, please. I live at the top end of Jubilee Road. The garden’s far too big for me now but I don’t want to move out of my house. I’m Stanley Packer.’

  By the end of the meeting Winifred and Stan had each taken on three garden sharers and the single trial had become two.

  Dan arranged to meet the young woman called Izzy and the husband of another woman, who’d come to put his name down because he was at work. The third person sharing it, of course, would be Janey.

  The well-dressed man intervened. ‘I wonder if I might come along tonight as an observer?’

  Dan couldn’t see any way out of letting him do that. ‘Perhaps you could introduce yourself, as the others have?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I’m John Smythe.’

  ‘Do you have a business card?’

  ‘Sorry, no. I don’t carry them.’

  Now that didn’t sound right. Everyone who dressed like a businessman carried cards, at least in Dan’s experience. ‘Well, perhaps you have a mobile number?’

  ‘I’m afraid I use one provided by my employers, so I can’t use it for private purposes.’

  He didn’t volunteer a landline number, either, which was another black mark against him in Dan’s opinion. ‘Well, we’ll see you tonight, then, with the others.’

  ‘Number 5 Peppercorn Street, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dan followed the man to the door and something made him take note of the car registration. As Smythe closed the driver’s door a piece of paper blew out, and something told Dan not to draw it to the driver’s attention.

  He waited till the car had vanished from sight to pick up the paper. It was a brochure for a property developer and had ‘Is your garden too big for you?’ in large red letters across the front. Inside it informed people with houses on large plots of land that their houses might be more valuable than they’d realised and Real Houses Ltd would be glad to send a representative to assess their home’s value. In small letters at the bottom, it mentioned Nolan Ltd as ‘the premier builder for infill housing’.

  Aha! Dan thought. He hadn’t heard anything good about Gus Nolan. Any company associated with him would probably cheat people out of the full value of their property. There was no mention of anyone called Smythe, though.

  He shoved the brochure in his pocket and went to invite Winifred to share a pot of tea with him in a nearby café.

  When he showed her the brochure, she hardly looked at it. ‘I’ve seen this before. Several letters from this company have been pushed through my door, and they’ve phoned me too. They won’t leave me alone.’

  ‘Persistent devils, aren’t they? Smythe’s desire to observe is beginning to sound even more fishy to me. I’m sorry I agreed to let him come tonight. I wish I had someone younger and stronger to keep an eye on him. I’m even starting to wonder whether I should have got you into this project, if they’re going to use it to pester you.’

  ‘Perhaps we could ask Angus to come along tonight as well.’

  ‘Good idea! Do you think he will?’

  ‘If he’s free.’

  When they’d finished their tea, he called a taxi for her on the mobile phone his sons had bought him. ‘I’d take you back myself, but I’ve arranged to visit a friend on the other side of town and I was enjoying our chat so much I’ve left it a bit late to get there.’

  He beamed at the phone as he switched it off. ‘I didn’t want this, but they insisted, and I have to admit it comes in useful at times.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have your ear glued to it like many of the younger folk do,’ she said. ‘Silly, they look, walking down the street, talking loudly to thin air.’

  ‘I agree. You should get a mobile phone, Winifred. Very useful, they are, for people our age, and not just for calling taxis. You can call for help wherever you are.’

  ‘Oh, I will now that I can afford it. I’ll do it this very week. I’m sure Janey will help me choose one and you can both teach me how to use it.’

  She smiled all the way home. Her smile faded when she went into the house, though, because she found a plain envelope on the floor of the hall.

  She stared down at it, noting that it didn’t have a postage stamp and that her name was printed on it in untidy capital letters, as if someone had written them with their left hand.

  She decided to handle it carefully. She put on her kitchen gloves and picked it up by one corner, using scissors to cut along the top. When she pulled out the letter inside it, she groaned. More threats!

  WE HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN YOU

  GET OUT OF THAT HOUSE

  YOU DON’T NEED IT

  OTHER PEOPLE DO

  She clutched her chest, as she always did instinctively when her heart started pounding, and sat down on the nearest chair.

  ‘You silly old woman,’ she muttered. ‘They want you to get upset. This is only a piece of paper.’

  When she’d calmed down a little, she got out the card the police had given her and dialled the number of the detective, explaining what had happened. The woman at the other end asked if she was in immediate danger. When she said she thought not, they told her someone would get to her as soon as they could.

  She knew there were more important cases for the police to deal with, but she was worried about Janey and little Millie getting caught up in this, so she phoned Angus and asked if he could come round and advise her.

  ‘What’s the matter, Miss Parfitt? You sound upset.’

  ‘I got another threatening letter.’

  ‘Are you on your own?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m coming round straight away to the back door. Don’t let anyone else in. And put the kettle on.’

  She let out a shaky breath as she set the phone down, but she felt better knowing that Angus was on his way.

  She had a sudden image of the man at the meeting, the one Dan had mistrusted. Was he connected with this? She might be old, but she wasn’t stupid, never had been, and she didn’t think she was losing her marbles. The smarmy creature must have some ulterior motive for wanting to ‘observe’ what they were doing.

  And he’d have known she wasn’t at home. Had he told someone to deliver this?

  Why did they feel they had the right to bully people into selling their houses? This was her home!

  It was wrong, very wrong. Money made people do terrible things.

  She didn’t often swear, but
she did now. She banged her clenched fist on the table for emphasis and said loudly and slowly, ‘Damn you, whoever you are! I’m not giving in to your threats!’

  Angus switched on his own security system and ran across his untidy grounds, cursing as he tripped and nearly fell over a tree root hidden in the long grass. He went into Miss Parfitt’s house via her back garden because when he’d repaired her fence he’d fitted one panel that appeared to be fixed in place but which could be moved easily by unfastening a hidden catch.

  Of course, he’d obtained her permission to create this shortcut so that he could come and help her, if necessary.

  And it had been necessary. Already.

  As he ran towards her house, he could see her face at the window, pale against the darker background. She vanished and opened the back door.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Angus. So silly of me to have panicked, but it reminded me of the night I was mugged and the time they burnt down my summer house. I was worried they’d … do something else.

  ‘I have Janey and Millie to think about as well as myself now. It’s so lovely to have them living here, but oh, Angus, what if I’ve brought them into danger?’

  ‘Your friends will make sure none of you is hurt.’ He gave in to the temptation to hug her. She felt fragile against him, thin and brittle with age, for all the liveliness and intelligence in her eyes.

  At first she was stiff, then she relaxed against him. He guessed she wasn’t used to being hugged.

  He was glad she’d turned to him. She’d not only been a close friend of his great-aunt, but had been kind to him many a time when he was a small boy visiting Dennings. She was a feisty old lady, and he admired that, hoped he’d be as lively at her age.

  ‘Show it to me.’

  She pointed to the envelope and paper on the kitchen table. ‘I’ve only touched the top corner of it.’

  He let out a choke of angry sound as he leant over the table to read it, not touching anything. ‘Damn them! Don’t let them bully you into selling.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Did you call the police?’

  ‘Yes, but they couldn’t come straight away, because it’s not an emergency.’