This thing between us has to be settled one way or another. I cycle round to his place. No sign of him. I go to the pubs he uses and draw a blank there as well. I even buzz past hers. Her car isn’t there, which I take as an indication that she’s not, either. I don’t want to see her, I’m not ready for that, so I don’t go knocking on the door. The last place I try is the allotments. The plot is deserted. I can’t think where else to go. All that cycling has dissipated some of my energy. I decide to call it a day. The plum tree is laden and some of the apples look ready. While I’m here, I might as well do something useful, like pick some fruit for Grandpa. Mum can take it with her the next time she goes to the nursing home. There should be plastic bags in the shed. I go to open the door and find it secured with a brand-new padlock. I look through the bleary little window. There are bags of stuff on the floor inside. Rob must have been down doing something. Looks like fertiliser, maybe he plans to dig the ground over and make it ready for next year, although Grandpa always preferred manure because it’s more natural.
