‘Everything,’ she replied. ‘Your plants are all lovely, really lovely, even at this time of the year. Anyway, my garden is already nearly full of your plants.’ She admired a pot of crocus. Looking up, she said, ‘And stop winking at me, or I’ll tell your wife.’

 

‘You’ve said that for 10 years or more. I may as well take my chances,’ he laughed. ‘Drop by my place any time you feel like it. You could help me behind the sheds and in the greenhouse. I always need a hand when I’m down there on my own.’

 

‘You,’ said Ellie, pointing an accusing finger at the old nurseryman, ‘are a wicked, wicked man. I promise you I’ll tell your wife.’

‘Ah well,’ he sighed. ‘Can’t blame a bloke for trying, no matter how old he might be.’

 

Ellie hadn’t noticed the man standing close by her side.

‘I promise you, Bill Butcher,’ Ellie retorted, ‘just because you have the best dahlias in the county won’t stop me talking to her. How is she, by the way?’

 

‘You always ask, just when I’m trying me best chat up lines.’ He frowned in mock frustration. ‘She’s as she always is with me - proper fed up.’ He chuckled to himself and then looked at the figure standing next to Ellie. ‘Can I help with anything?’ he said.

 

‘Yes, you could tell me this lovely lady’s name?’

Ellie turned quickly to face him. It was the man from the pub. ‘Oh, hello, it’s you,’ she blurted.

 

He smiled at her. ‘Yes, it’s me. But, more importantly, how are you? You survived the ordeal. That much is clear because you’re smiling your way through another day.’

 

‘It’s Ellie. My name’s Ellie,’ she said without hesitation. ‘And yes, I’m breathing proof there is life beyond a party I never wanted.’

 

They were now facing each other. ‘I’m pleased you survived.’ He moved his face nearer to her cheek and lowered his voice. ‘On a scale of one to ten, just how bad was it?’

 

‘Below zero. Choose any minus figure you fancy. As big as you like,’ Ellie whispered back. ‘Why?’

He looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Why what?’

‘Why are you pleased? You don’t even know me.’

‘Ah, that’s the pleasing part.’

 

‘You’ll not be needing me now, I suppose. Now, you know her name.’ The nurseryman smiled. ‘Mind you, you should know she’s spoken for.’

Ellie turned to look at him. ‘Spoken for?’

 

He held up a hand. ‘Calm yourself now. Only meant as a joke.’ he chuckled, looking at a woman standing nearby. ‘An old man can dream, can’t he?’

‘Oh Bill, you’re incorrigible!’ exclaimed Ellie.

 

‘And if I knew what that meant, I’d practice more,’ he said, walking away to the far end of his stall where a woman was browsing.

 

‘So, Ellie the Survivor, how about a cup of coffee?’

She turned back to face him. ‘Coffee? Yes, wonderful idea. But on one condition.’

 

‘Condition?’ he asked. ‘Oh, of course, I’ll pay. And for the cakes.’

‘Pay? No, that’s not what I meant. What I meant was that you at least tell me your name.’

 

‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid. I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark here and ask if you’re free for dinner this evening. I may then relent and confide my identity. Until then, I’m pure mystery.’

 

Ellie felt the heat rise in her cheeks and down the front of her neck. She knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl. ‘Don’t tease me. Please.’ She turned slightly away from his gaze. ‘You’re supposed to presume I’m married or with someone who cares about me.’

 

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I asked at the pub, even quizzed one guest when I saw them heading for the loo.’

‘You checked up on me!’

 

‘No, no, I didn’t do that. That sounds so bad. So clumsy, so very clumsy. As though I follow strangers into toilets.’ He looked at her, grinning, and then put his hands together as if praying. ‘Forgive me. Please forgive me,’ he said. ‘I’m not a stalker. My name’s Tom. Tom Connell. And the dinner invitation is genuine if you’re able to, that is. And if you even want to, which is perhaps more important.’

 

He paused as Ellie composed herself and her colour returned to normal.

‘I can,’ he continued, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking. There’s no one at home. No wife or girlfriend. Well, partner, I think, is the more popular term these days.

 

Don’t have one anyway, whatever they’re called. But I have a partner at work though. Quite a good-looking chap by the name of Graham, and I’m lumbered with the hairy so and so. That’s business for you,’ he shrugged. ‘Nothing more.’

 

Ellie smiled and then laughed. ‘You won’t bring Graham to dinner, then?’

‘Good God No. Wouldn’t dream of a threesome on the first date. Any way he has a slightly over-powering wife and noisy children. Great at his job, though.’

 

‘It seems to be the trend these days.’

‘What does,’ asked Tom. ‘Being good at the job?’

‘No. Overpowering people. I have several examples of overpowering in my life. And yes, coffee first, and we can discuss whether there’ll be dinner later.’

 

Ellie couldn’t quite believe what she said. ‘Coffee with strangers is out of character for me, but, hell, I could do with doing something different.’

‘Coffee and cakes, or dinner.’

 

‘Made your mind up yet?’ asked a voice from behind the plants displayed alongside them.

Ellie turned to see Bill smiling at her between the two conifers he was holding. ‘About what, Bill?’

‘Which plants you’re buying? What else?’

 

Ellie smiled at him. ‘Can I come to your place next week? I need more than I can carry this morning. I want your advice on what I can grow on in the greenhouse, ready for spring.’

 

‘Course you can. Always welcome.’ He winked at them both. ‘Be seeing you then. Enjoy the coffee. And the dinner.’

 

Ellie and Tom moved away from the stall and walked towards the far end of the market. They emerged from the stalls and opposite them, on the corner of a narrow alleyway, was a coffee shop. ‘Is this one OK for you?’ asked her new acquaintance.

 

‘It’s fine, thanks,’ Ellie replied. ‘Never been in but heard it’s OK.’

Inside was busy and cramped, but they found a small table in a corner and as Ellie sat down, Tom asked her what she’d like. ‘As usual, there are far more variations on the menu than I actually understand – and that’s just the coffees.’

 

‘I’ll have a small Americano and milk, please.’

‘Can I choose the cake? Could be a late birthday cake.’

Ellie looked up at him. ‘That would be very nice, thank you. And you choose. There’s nothing about any cake I don’t enjoy, but if they have any, I’m partial to a bit of Victoria sponge.’

 

‘Personally, I’m partial to a bit of tart. Hopefully, they have one from Bakewell.’

 

He moved away, winding through the array of tables to join the back of the queue. She gazed across the room at mothers looking at their phones while holding their babies, toddlers with their chins just above the table edges, older women chatting earnestly with each other. There were a couple of men on their own, contented to read their newspapers. Soon her companion returned with a tray.

 

‘One coffee,’ he announced, setting down a large mug on the table in front of Ellie. ‘And one large slice of cake.’ He put down the plate alongside the coffee.

‘Is that a small one?’ asked Ellie.

 

‘Madam. In here, size is everything. Well, nearly. Big coffee, big cakes, but small spaces to sit in,’ he said, squeezing into his chair, trying to avoid knocking the elderly woman wedged in the small space behind him.

 

‘I think that’s a pudding, by the way,’ Ellie said, nodding down at his plate.

Tom stared down at his plate. ‘I specifically asked for a tart. I feel cheated.’

 

He emptied a sachet of sugar into a froth filled cup. ‘Somewhere in there, deep in the froth, is a shot of caffeine, I hope. What’s the difference?’

‘Between…?’

‘A tart and a pudding.’

 

‘Oh, I believe they make puddings from flaky pastry and tarts from short crust. Not that I’m an expert. To say I bake at all would be an exaggeration. I can’t remember why I remember.’

 

‘Sounds risky to me.’

‘What does?’ asked Ellie.

‘A flaky tart.’

 

She smiled and shook her head in amusement. There was a brief silence between them as they sipped their coffee and took the first bites. Ellie wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth and then asked: ‘So, who did you ask?’

 

‘Ask? About what? Oh, I see what you mean. When I checked up on you?’

‘Yes, when you checked me out, as they say.’

​

'Don’t really know. It was a man, definitely a man. Well, at least I was sure at the time he was. Either that or an overweight woman was standing next to me in the gents. She needed a shave, I’ll say that. Beard like a prophet and could pee standing up.’

 

Ellie almost choked, giggled as she sipped her coffee.

‘Sounds like one of the spooks’ husbands, a man called Roger, who is about as indiscreet as anyone can be. Gossips like no-one on this earth can gossip.’

‘Spooks?’

​

‘Spies. My estranged husband’s sisters and their husbands. Roger is Spooky Sue’s man.’

‘Spooky Sue?’

 

‘Yes, I’ve given ridiculous names to all my husband’s relatives. Many of them, including my own children, are spying on me. What did you say to Roger?’

‘I said I thought I recognised you from somewhere, couldn’t put a name to a face, really bugging me, blah, blah, blah.

 

I said that if it gets to me much more, I’ll have to gate-crash the party, apologise profusely, and find out your name. He told me. I followed up with she’s married, yes? But I can’t remember his name either, to which he said, “living apart, bit of a drama, must go now, blah, blah, blah.”’

 

‘That easy?’

‘Yep, that easy.’ He shrugged and then held up his hands. ‘I’m so pleased. I’m so clever.’

Ellie blushed again. She wanted to change the subject.

 

‘What do you and Graham do?’

Tom put down his cup. ‘We’re gardeners. Landscape gardeners. We turn the tired, and sometimes rather ugly, into style and beauty to behold.’

 

Ellie rested her elbows on the small table, cradling her coffee in both hands. ‘Does it work on people?’ She smiled at him. 

He laughed. ‘Hell, no, not a chance. We’re talented designers and very hard-working, but we can’t do miracles.’

 

He laughed again and then smiled as she said: ‘I love gardening. It keeps me sane. That’s how I know Bill, the chap at the market. I buy most of my plants and shrubs from him and he gives me brilliant advice. In exchange for brilliant advice, I allow him to be a bit of a flirt.’

 

‘It sounds like he’s got a good deal. Bit of a win-win for our Bill.’

Ellie put down her cup and looked at him. ‘I was 60.’ As soon as she said it, she regretted blurted out her age. Then she added: ‘And don’t say all that rubbish about it being the new 50.’

 

He looked at her, elbows on the table, as he cupped his mug in both hands. ‘Actually, I thought that – in your case – it was the new forty. And, belatedly, many happy returns of yesterday.’ He grinned across the table at her. ‘You look great for your age. If I knew you better, I’d say stunning.’

 

‘Pretend you know me better,’ Ellie quickly replied. ‘But I certainly didn’t get many happy returns on the day, not in recent years.’ She paused. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t mope to someone I’ve only just met. It might scare you away.’

 

‘I’m glad you don’t want to scare me off and I know you well enough now to call you stunning. So why was it such a bloody awful birthday? And why did you say your family spy on you?’ He put down his mug and looked serious. ‘Apologies, too many questions. Vulgar of me.’

 

Ellie ignored his apology. ‘Why?’ She gazed across the room and then back at her companion. ‘I celebrated my birthday in proper style - at war with my children, separated from my husband, lumbered with a business I hate and wondering what lies ahead. I’m now alone in the family home and I think they’re all paranoid about what I’ll do next. On the plus side, I know what I’m going to do.’ Ellie took a bite of her cake. ‘And I love gardening.’

 

‘How long have you enjoyed it?’

Ellie finished chewing and wiped her lips with her napkin. She thought for a moment before answering. ‘Am I in therapy?’ she quipped. ‘Well, for nearly all my married years, ever since my husband started the first of many affairs and told me the first of thousands of lies. Looking back, that was probably the day after we married.’ Ellie sat back in her seat. ‘Why am I telling you all this? It’s ridiculous.’

 

She paused. ‘I’m so very sorry. It’s not like me. Most people will tell you I’m usually one of the world’s most private people.’

 

She leaned back towards the table and said quietly: ‘But I think I’m changing. I shouted at both my children last night and several times this morning – so many times in such a brief space of time, but I didn’t feel bad about it.’

 

‘And I laughed inside when I heard my husband had set fire to the factory early today - with a sandwich toaster, of all things. And I’m OK with a man who I barely know asking me for coffee and suggesting we go out to dinner.’

 

‘The thing is, Lady Stunning, I’m OK with it as well, with you telling me these private things. After all, it was you who accosted me in the pub.’

Ellie laughed. ‘I didn’t accost you. It was a mistake, thinking you were the manager, and perhaps in charge of marketing at The Cock and Bottle, standing there with a bottle in one hand…’

 

Ellie blushed as soon as she heard her own words, but Tom threw his head back and laughed, and rather louder than he intended. He looked around to see if anyone was glancing across at them. ‘I get it.’ After a pause he added: ‘Did you know cockerel was once an enjoyed ingredient of ale?

 

After a long day at work, 17th century businessmen enjoyed their cock ale.’ He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. ‘It was ordinary ale with partly cooked cockerel bits in it.’ He pulled a face of mock disgust. ‘There, that’s me done with showing off for the day.’

 

He lowered his voice and leaned towards Ellie. ‘Shall I change the subject for you, so you don’t blush anymore?’

Ellie nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

 

He sipped his coffee and then put down his cup carefully and rather gravely said: ‘Tell me, as best you can and in your own words, about the sandwich toaster.’ He asked just as Ellie had taken a bite of her cake. She laughed and coughed at the same time. He reached across and touched her shoulder.

‘Are you OK? I’m so sorry. Bad timing on my part.’

 

Ellie stopped coughing and regained her composure. She looked closely at him for the first time and realised she was staring. He was, she thought, quite handsome, with soft brown eyes and a few lines. His face, neck and hands were deeply tanned, and he was slightly taller than her husband. He was much slimmer, by a long way. She continued to look straight across the table.

 

He was looking straight back at her, almost studiously. She looked younger than her age. She was slim. He thought her extremely attractive. He examined her face, her neck, and her eyes. Her gaze didn’t alter as he let his eyes drop to look at the outline of her breasts beneath her sweater.

 

She saw his gaze drop. Once she would have been shy, but now she felt herself slightly straighten her back to lift herself to his gaze. She’d done it before she realised what she was doing. Again, she felt a slight blush in her neck and cheeks, but she kept her back straight.

 

She broke the silence. ‘How did you get into landscape gardening?’

‘Actually,’ he paused putting down his cup, ‘it was quite by accident. I’d always loved gardening, even as a kid I’d pottered with my grandfather, but parents, circumstances, life’s twists, and turns, they all get in the way, don’t they? So, I became a doctor.’ He smiled. ‘Never went near a garden again until I was 40 something.’ He smiled at her.

 

‘So, what happened?’ She panicked as soon as she’d spoken. ‘Oh! I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I’m prying.’

 

Tom raised his hand slightly. ‘No worries. It was the logical next question.’ He looked down at his plate, his half-eaten tart, and the fork that lay next to it.

‘I stopped being a doctor because I needed something else in my life.

 

One day, in the park near where I lived, I saw a guy planting the most boring rows of bedding plants you can ever imagine. I remember thinking that even I could be more creative. Suddenly – in my head,’ and he tapped his forehead in emphasis, ‘I could see grandfather and me, busy in his garden. The rest, as they say, is history. Love it. Completely love it. Should have done nothing else.’

 

Ellie looked across at him. They both smiled as she fought back an urge to ask about the end of the medical career. Another time, she thought. As if they both understood the conversation needed to pause for a moment, they sat in silence, both looking around the cafe, but at nothing in particular.

 

Tom spoke first. ‘I have an estimation to do this afternoon. Some folks with a new house and a building site for a garden. Are you busy?’

 

Ellie responded, surprising even herself with the level of enthusiasm. ‘Oh, that’d be interesting. Would I be able to look as though I knew what I was doing though? I think I can blag it! How wonderful, my debut as a garden designer. I might even offer the maestro advice on planting, colour, shape, and form?’

 

Tom laughed. ‘I can always do with a little extra advice but, actually, I wondered if you’d like to hold my tape measure for me?’ He grinned at her. ‘And we could share ideas and talk about gardens. And you can fill me in on the sandwich toaster.’

 

Ellie didn’t hesitate. ‘Tom,’ she whispered. ‘I would love to hold your tape measure for you.