So, Sandra found out her husband was seeing the lady next door at their allotments. Shed gone over simply to borrow some salt, wanted to pickle her homegrown cucumbers. She knocked, and who should open the door but her David standing there in nothing but his saggy boxers and a vest.
Dave? she just about squeaked.
He went ghost-pale, then beetroot-red, and back again. San I can explain, honestly
Just then, Audrey their neighbour, widowed for years popped her head round the doorframe behind him. Shed barely bothered to tie her dressing gown.
David, whos Audrey started, and then she clocked Sandra. Oh Oh god.
For a moment, all three of them just stared in awkward silence. Then Sandra spun round and marched straight for the gate, nearly running.
San! Hang on! David chased after her, clearly forgetting he was half-naked, hollering as he bolted down the lane.
Their little street, the one with the twelve garden plots, quickly filled up with nosey neighbours peeking out, tutting and gasping. There was David Brown, chairman of the plot-holders association, pegging it down the lane after his wife, in his undies.
Well, its better than EastEnders! cracked old Mike, who lived next door.
Sandra hurried into their little house and slammed the door, locking herself in. David was outside, banging on the door.
San, please open up! Let me explain!
How many years? she shouted behind the door.
What?
How many years has this been going on?
David was silent for a moment. Then, barely above a whisper, Eighteen.
Sandra slid to the floor in shock. Eighteen years. That was exactly how old their youngest, Ben, was.
She heard the gate creak again Audrey had come in, now properly dressed and hair brushed.
Sandra, come out. We need to have a talk.
Go away, you snake in the grass!
Sandra, were adults. Lets not make a scene.
Sandra took a deep breath, pulled herself together, and stepped out to the porch, sitting down. Audrey took a seat beside her. David hovered, wringing his hands.
Eighteen years, Sandra muttered. How did this even happen?
Remember when you did your back in? Ended up two months in hospital?
Of course, she remembered. Surgery, a long recovery David had ruined all the cucumbers, tomatoes went rotten. Shed even wondered how he survived without her.
I helped him, Audrey explained. With the plot, and meals and, well
And then it just happened, David grunted.
Eighteen years! Sandra shot to her feet. Eighteen years youve made a fool of me!
No one made you a fool, said Audrey, getting up as well. You lived your life, we lived ours.
Ours?! Hes MY husband! Father of MY children!
So what? Did he stop being a husband? Did the kids go hungry? Is your allotment overgrown?
Sandra was about to have a go, but David caught her arm.
San, please.
Dont touch me!
She shook him off and stormed back inside, slamming the door. Outside, the whole lane was whipped into a proper scandal. News travelled faster than a rumour in a hair salon.
Shows over! David bellowed at the crowd. Go on, nothing to see!
But they only gossiped more. Linda, from plot three, shouted, Knew it! Saw em together loads!
Youre as blind as a bat, grumbled her husband.
Am not! I see everything!
That evening, Sandra sat on the veranda, seething. David paced circles.
San, please say something!
What am I meant to say? Divorce?
Divorce? Were both sixty!
And? Old people cant get divorced?
Oh, come on! Weve been together forty years!
Eighteen of which you spent with Audrey.
I lived with you! I just visited her sometimes.
Sometimes?
Well… twice a week.
Twice a week for eighteen years isnt sometimes, Dave. Thats a routine.
He sat opposite her, miserable.
San, you have to understand I love you. But Audreys just different.
Better?
No, not better. Just different. With you, its home, the kids, life. With her, its an escape from everything for a bit.
Oh, you needed a break, did you? Id love a break but someones got to pickle the cucumbers.
Thats just it! Youre always doing something veg, jam, this and that. Sometimes I just want to sit, have a drink, chat.
You cant chat with me?
With you, its about the kids, the grandkids, the garden. With her, its about books, life.
She reads?! Sandra was genuinely stunned.
She does, actually. Loves poetry. Real classics.
Sandra nearly burst out laughing at that: David and poetry!
So what now?
I dunno. Up to you, really.
Me? What about you?
San, Im sixty-two. Whats left to decide? Just want a quiet life.
With me, or with her?
He went silent. Then, Could I live with both?
Sandra grabbed the nearest thing a jar of cucumbers and flung it at him, missing by a mile. The glass jar smashed against the wall.
Get out!
So David left, over to Audreys, obviously.
Sandra, sleepless that night, mulled over their forty years. Two children, grandkids, a lovely allotment they worked on together. And eighteen years of lies. Or was it a lie? Hed never really promised her anything, never made big declarations of love he just lived. With her. And, somehow, with Audrey.
Next morning, Jean from plot five stopped by with a Victoria sponge.
Sandra, love, hang in there.
Thanks, Jean.
If you want, Mick can go give Dave a good hiding.
Oh, dont be daft. What are we, in school?
So? What will you do?
Nothing yet.
Id have thrown him out. Cheat!
Jean doesnt your bloke spend a lot of time with Linda from plot three?
Jean blushed bright red. Whered you get that from?
I saw them, in the raspberries.
Thats thats not what you think!
Really? They were just chatting?
About veg. Thats all!
Looked more like a cuddle.
Jean stormed off, slamming the door behind her.
Later, Mike turned up.
Mrs Brown, um need anything dug up? Help with the plot?
No thanks, Mike.
Just, you know Dave said hell pop by later to collect his things.
What things? His precious boxers?
Er, not sure. Just passing it on.
Message received, Mike. Thanks.
Mike shuffled off.
That evening, David actually did show up, head drooping.
Come for my stuff.
Help yourself.
He went inside with Sandra following.
Dave, why Audrey? Whats so special?
He stopped, thinking.
Dunno. Its just easy with her.
And Im difficult?
Not difficult. Just you always know best. How to pickle, when to plant, what to spend on the kids. Audrey doesnt she asks me.
So you feel important?
More useful, I suppose.
Sandra flopped onto the bed.
Dave, I dont know everything. Like right now I dont know how youre supposed to live when your husbands been cheating for eighteen years.
San
I dont know how to look my sons in the eye. Or the grandkids, when they ask why Grandads at Audreys.
No need to tell them, San.
I do, Dave. James is coming tomorrow with his wife and the baby. What do I tell them?
Just say we argued.
David sat beside her.
San, why dont we just forget it? Move on.
How am I meant to do that?
Just act natural, pretend it never happened.
While Audreys next door, you popping round twice a week? As if nothing happened?
So what do you think we should do?
Sandra stood at the window. Audrey was outside, watering her cucumbers, same old dressing gown.
You know what? Live where you like. But youre explaining things to the grandkids yourself.
San!
And you can do your own pickling this year.
I cant pickle to save my life!
Ask Audrey. Shes clever shell figure it out.
David left, a sad little bundle of clothes in hand. The whole street watched.
That night, Sandra woke up to the sound of someone shuffling about outside. She peered out: it was David by the greenhouse.
What are you doing, Dave?
Checking on the tomatoes. Its meant to be hot tomorrow need to open up or theyll fry.
Youve moved out.
I have, but the tomatoes are still mine. Grew em from seed!
So?
Just cant let them die, can I?
He opened up the greenhouse and disappeared through the fence.
Next day, James turned up with the family.
Mum, wheres Dad?
With Audrey next door.
Visiting?
Living there.
James sat, stunned. Sorry what?!
Sandra gave him the short version, not going into details.
Eighteen years? So when Ben was born?
Looks like it.
James stomped round to Audreys, shouting through the fence. Came back looking exasperated.
Dad says he loves you both.
Lucky us.
Mum, come on. Maybe he means it?
James could you love two women?
Me? No. But Dad Dads Dad. Hes different.
Thats for sure.
Later, her grandson ran in.
Gran! Whys Grandad living with Auntie Audrey?
Hes helping her out with the veg, love, Sandra said.
James stifled a laugh. Mum, youre something else…
That night, another ruckus outside: David was watering the allotment.
Dave, have you lost it?
Theres a drought! Everythingll die.
Your new household needs you, go water their garden.
Theyve got their own! But I cant let this lot go. Its my lot too!
Sandra grabbed the hose. Here, lets get it done. Otherwise well be at this till lunchtime.
They watered in silence, then sat together on the bench.
Dave, cards on the table who do you love more?
San, what kind of question is that?
Just answer. Who?
He thought hard.
Both of you. In different ways.
Hows that then?
Youre my right hand. Familiar, solid cant do without you. Shes like a holiday. Rare, but nice.
If I wasnt here, would you marry her?
I probably not.
Why?
Because shed become the right hand no more holidays.
So you need both, do you?
Looks that way.
They sat beneath the stars, silent.
Dave, Sandra said, Maybe I need a bit of holiday myself.
He shot upright. What? Holiday?
Maybe find a bloke. Mike keeps offering to help in the garden
Mike?! Ill
Youll what? Youre with Audrey.
Thats different!
How?
Youre not like that!
How would you know? Maybe Ive got a taste for the classics.
You dont.
Maybe Ill start.
Dave just looked lost.
San, seriously. What do you want?
What did she want? Life back how it was? But nothing could go back, not now.
I want peace. To pickle, enjoy the grandkids.
And?
And nothing. Live where you like.
So if Mike comes round?
He wont. Hes got Natalie on plot nine now.
How do you know?
Dave, Im not blind. Just quiet. Like everyone else.
Next morning, David turned up with his bag.
San, are you sure I can come back?
Beds in the shed. Blow up the mattress and youll be fine.
He went off hunting for the airbed.
The neighbours gawked and whispered. Audrey, next door, kindly ignored the lot, watering her cucumbers.
James came onto the porch. Mum Dads back?
Hes blowing up his mattress in the shed.
Youre a saint forgiven him?
Not a saint, just a fool. Too late for anything new.
Within a week, David shuffled back from the shed to the house. A month later, Sandra stopped noticing when he wandered over to Audreys twice a week. After a year, no one even talked about it; newer gossip took over. Linda from plot three ran off with Pete from plot five. Jean moved in with Lindas ex. And so it went on.
Sandra got on with her pickling. David was busy building a new greenhouse. Audrey sat behind her fence, nose in a book.
In the end, what does love come down to? Forty years together, kids, grandkids, a house, a garden. And learning to accept that theres no such thing as perfect. Not in love, least of all.
