Margaret Davies discovered her husband was seeing the neighbour from the next allotment when she popped round to borrow some salt for pickling gherkins. It was John who answered the door. Her John. In nothing but his worn boxers and an old vest.
John? she managed to breathe out.
He paled, then flushed, then went pale again.
Maggie look, I can explain
Behind him appeared Edith, the widow from two plots over. She was wearing nothing but a dressing gown barely pulled over her bare form.
John, whos that? she called, and then caught sight of Margaret. Oh
The three of them stood staring at each other before Margaret turned on her heel and hurried down the path to her gate, almost breaking into a run.
Maggie! Wait! John hurried after her, apparently forgetting the state of his attire.
Out came the residents of all twelve garden plots, eager for the spectacle.
There went John Davies, respected chairman of the allotment association, running down the lane in his vest and pants after his wife.
Well, thats the circus in town, commented Mike from the neighbouring plot.
Margaret bolted into her shed and locked the door from the inside. John banged on it.
Maggie, open up! Let me explain!
For how long? she yelled through the door.
What?
How longs it been going on?
John fell silent. Eventually, in a quiet voice, he said, Eighteen years.
Margaret sank to the floor, back against the door. Eighteen years. Their youngest, Simon, had just turned eighteen.
She heard the gate creak and Edith entered, now dressed and looking a little tidier.
Margaret, come out. We need to talk.
Go away, you snake!
Margaret, were grown-ups. No need for theatrics.
Margaret collected herself, came out, and sat on the porch. Edith sat next to her. John hovered nearby, shuffling awkwardly.
Eighteen years, Margaret said. How did it happen?
Remember when your back went and you were in hospital for two months?
Of course she remembered. The long operation, the difficult recovery. John couldnt preserve the gherkins to save his life, the tomatoes rotted on the vine. Shed even wondered how he coped alone.
I helped him, Edith went on. With the garden, with cooking. And then well
It happened, John muttered.
Eighteen years! Margaret stood up. Eighteen years youve both made a fool of me!
No one thought you a fool, Edith said, standing as well. You had your life, we had ours.
Ours? Hes my husband! The father of my children!
So? Did he stop being your husband? Are the children hungry? Is the allotment neglected?
Margaret made to strike her, but John caught her hand.
Maggie, dont.
Dont touch me!
She pulled away, marched indoors. A small crowd was already gathered outside. News travelled fast down the allotment path.
Shows over! John barked. Move along!
But no one left; the chattering just grew. Linda from Number Three plot was saying loudly,
I always knew! Saw them out together!
Youre blind as a bat, her husband retorted. Never saw a thing.
Oh, shut it. I saw plenty!
By evening, Margaret was sat on the veranda. John paced in circles.
Maggie, say something.
What am I to say? Divorce?
Divorce? Were sixty years old!
So? Old people cant split up?
Maggie, dont be daft. Weve had forty good years.
Eighteen of them you had with Edith, as well.”
I lived with you! I just visited her now and then.
Now and then?
Well twice a week.
Twice a week, every week for eighteen years, John. Thats not now and then. Thats a whole system.
He sat down opposite her.
Maggie, youve got to understand. I love you. But Edith shes different.
Better?
Not better. Just different. With you, its the home, the kids, the routine. Her, I get a breakfrom all that.
Nice for you! I fancy a break too but Im stuck pickling gherkins!
Thats just it! Youre always busyjam, tomatoes, preserves! I just wanted to relax, have a chat and a drink sometimes.
And you cant do that with me?
We talk about the kids, the grandkids, the allotment. With her, we chat about life, about books.
She reads? Margaret was incredulous. Edith was the most ordinary of country women shed ever met.
She does. And poetry too. Loves the classics.
Margaret nearly burst out laughing at the thought of John and the classics.
So what now?
I dont know. Up to you.
Me? And you?
Im sixty-two, Maggie. What decisions do you expect? I just want some peace in my twilight years, thats all.
With whom? Me or her?
John hesitated, then said, Couldnt I be with both?
Margaret grabbed the first thing she sawa jar of gherkinsand flung it at him. She missed, and the jar smashed against the wall.
Get out!
John left, obviously headed to Ediths.
She didnt sleep that night. All those years togethertwo sons, grandkids, the allotment they built side by side. And eighteen years of lies.
Although was it really lying? Hed never promised her forever, never pledged eternal love. Hed just lived. With her, and with Edith.
The next morning, Susan from plot five popped in with a homemade pie.
Margaret, hold your head up.
Thank you.
If you want, my Dave could give John a black eye.
No need. Were not kids.
So what will you do?
Nothing yet.
Id have thrown him out. Men! Cheats!
Susan, your Dave never visits Linda on plot three?
Susan blushed.
Whered you get that idea?
Saw them in the raspberry patch.
They werediscussing planting.
Locked in an embrace?
Susan left, slamming the door behind her.
By lunchtime, Mike arrived.
Mrs Davies, erm Do you need the plot dug over? Help with anything?
No, thanks.
John asked me to say hell be by this evening to collect his things.
What things? Those dreadful pants?
Uh not sure. Just passing the message.
Message received. Ta, Mike.
He shuffled off.
That evening, John turned up, head bowed.
Im just getting my stuff.
Go on, then.
He went in; Margaret followed.
John, why Edith? Whats so special?
He stopped.
I dont know. Its just easy, with her.
And with me, its hard?
Not hard. But you always know everything. When to plant potatoes, how to salt gherkins, just how much to give the grandkids for their birthday. Edith doesnt know. She asks me.
And you feel smart?
More needed.
Margaret sat on the bed.
Well, John, I dont know everything either. I havent a clue how to get by when your husbands been seeing another woman for eighteen years.
Maggie
How do I look the children in the eye? Explain to the grandkids why Granddad now lives next door?
You dont have to explain anything!
I do, John. Alex is coming tomorrow. The wife and little one with him. What do I say?
Tell him we had a row.
John sat beside her.
Maggie, can we just forget all this?
Hows that?
Just pretend it never happened.
Oh, brilliant. Edith over the fence, you see her every day, and we just pretend?
Well, what do you suggest?
Margaret got up and looked out the window. There was Edith, watering her gherkins in that same robe.
Live where you please. But youll be the one to tell the grandkids.
Maggie!
And you can pickle your own gherkins this year.
I dont know how!
Edith will help. Shes so cultured, shell soon master pickling.
John left with his bundle. And only went as far as Ediths, of course. The neighbours watched it all.
That night, the noise woke her. Someone was out back muttering away. She peered outside; it was John.
What are you doing?
Checking the tomatoes. Hot weather tomorrow, theyll need airing.
I thought youd gone.
I have. But the tomatoes are mine! I grew them, didnt I?
So?
I wont let them die!
He opened the greenhouse and slipped through the fence to Ediths.
The next morning, Alex and his family arrived.
Mum, wheres Dad?
Hes next door.
Visiting?
No, he lives there.
Alex sat down heavily.
What do you mean?
She told him, as plainly as she could.
Eighteen years? Mum, then Simon was just born
Looks like it.
Alex stormed over to Ediths. She heard shouting, the gate slamming. He returned.
Dad says he loves you both.
Were so lucky.
Oh Mum, dont. Maybe he does?
Alex, could you love two women?
Me? Never. But Im not Dad. Hes different.
Thats true.
Her grandson tore in.
Gran, whys Granddad living with Aunty Edith?
Hes helping her in the garden, Margaret replied.
Alex chuckled. Mum, honestly
Another night, another round of shuffling outside. John again, watering the rows.
John, have you lost it?
Heat wave! Everythingll shrivel!
Your new familys waiting. Water their plot.
Edith has her own! Doesnt mean I dont care about this one.
Margaret took the hose.
Here, Ill help. Otherwise, youll be at it till lunchtime.
They watered in silence, then sat together on the bench.
John, tell me honestly. Who do you love more?
Oh, Maggie, dont.
Its a fair question. Who?
He pondered.
You both. In different ways.
What does that mean?
Youre my right hand. Familiar, reliable. Cant do without you. Edith is a treat. Seldom, but bright.
And if I wasnt here?
Dont say that!
Suppose I wasnt. Would you marry her?
Dont know. Probably not. Because shed become the right hand, and the celebrations would end.
So you want both of us?
Seems so.
They sat staring at the stars.
Maybe I should get myself a bit of excitement too, Margaret said suddenly.
John jumped up.
What? What do you mean?
A man. Mike offered to help with the digging.
Mike?! Ill!
What? Youre with Edith.
Thats different!
How so?
Maggie, youre not like that!
How would you know? Maybe Im reading Shakespeare in secret.
You dont.
I might start.
John stood. Maggie, seriously, what do you want?
But what *did* she want? Everything to be like before? Life would never be the same.
I want a quiet life. To pickle gherkins. To look after the grandkids.
And?
And thats it. Live wherever you want.
Meaning?
Live with Edith if it suits. Come home if you like. Just dont lie anymore.
What if Mike comes round?
He wont. Hes got Natalie from number nine.
How do you know?
Oh John, Im not blind. Just silent. Like everyone else.
Next morning, John returned with his bundle.
Are you sure I can come back, Maggie?
The spare beds in the shed. Blow up the air bed and youll fit.
He put down his bag and went for the air bed.
Neighbours whispered, their eyes following. Edith watered her gherkins, pretending not to notice.
Alex stood on the step.
Mum, Dads back?
Hes inflating the air bed in the shed.
Youre a saint. Or have you forgiven him?
Im no saint. But too late to change now.
In a week, John migrated from the shed back into the house. Within a month, Margaret managed not to notice his twice-weekly trips next door. A year later, no one in the allotment lanes talked about it anymore.
There were new stories; Linda from number three moved in with Peter from five, and Susan left her husband for Lindas ex.
Margaret pickled her gherkins. John built a new greenhouse. Edith read novels the other side of the fence.
In the end, what is love? Living forty years, raising children, building a home, growing a garden.
And learning to accept that nothings perfect least of all love.
Especially love.
