Ivy Lane: Autumn: Read Online Free PDF Page A

silver hair. ‘I’d better be off.’
    ‘Come back tomorrow,’ he said, grabbing onto my hand with his gnarled fingers. ‘Got something for you.’
    ‘I’ve got school in the morning. Can it wait till the weekend?’
    ‘Pop in early. Before school. I shan’t keep you long, I promise.’
    He pulled a hopeful face. I rolled my eyes affectionately and tutted.
    ‘Go on then, see you tomorrow, eight o’clock sharp. I’ll even bring you some breakfast.’

Chapter 4
    What had possessed me to offer to bring Alf breakfast? I rarely ate anything before school unless it was a bland and boring breakfast biscuit. A desperate dredge of the freezer unearthed two battered croissants left over from a recent lazy Sunday morning. Hardly a gourmet feast, but they would have to do.
    I shoved them in the microwave for a few seconds and then tucked them in my coat pocket.
    I felt odd cycling past school, seeing the already busy staff car park. I had a hectic day ahead too; I hoped Alf was on time, I really couldn’t hang around. Our topic at the moment at school was People Who Help Us and we were having a themed fancy dress day (I was already dressed as a nurse, not the ideal outfit for an early-morning rendezvous with an octogenarian, admittedly) and one of the children’s mums was coming in this afternoon to talk about her job as a dentist.
    Thinking about it, perhaps Charlie would like to bring his fire engine down to school or Karen could visit, a real nurse? Maybe even Nigel could come in in his old army uniform. This topic could run for weeks with any luck.
    The gate was locked. Bad sign. Alf obviously hadn’t arrived. I cast a look over my shoulder to see if he was behind me – he wasn’t – and let myself in.
    Ivy Lane allotments were deserted so I pedalled at full pelt up to Alf’s plot, hoping against hope that he’d let himself in and re-padlocked the gate.
    His raspberry canes had been cut back since yesterday, I hoped he hadn’t overdone it. He had seemed shattered when I left him.
    Phew, Alf was here. The shed was open and I could see him inside, the back of his head protruding over the top of his deckchair, exactly where I’d left him yesterday. Good, I would still be able to make it to school on time.
    ‘Morning,’ I called in a suitably sing-song voice. ‘Nurse Parker here with your breakfast. I hope you haven’t been there all night.’
    I should have brought a flask of coffee, I realized, looking at the crumbly croissants; it would be like eating a loofah without a drink to wash it down. I slipped off my helmet and coat to better display my uniform and hurried into the shed. Much as I loved Alf, I needed to keep this brief.
    He still hadn’t moved. He must have nodded off.
    ‘Boo.’ I pressed my hands over his eyes.
    His face was cold. I whipped round to face him, my heart thumping with fear. His eyes were closed, head slumped to one side, lips slack and dry, hands clasped in front of him.
    ‘Alf?’
    I shook his shoulders.
    ‘Alf?’
    Goose pimples flashed across my skin making my whole body shudder and panic rise in my throat. I could hear my own breathing, my own heartbeat, as I registered the signs of a life departed.
    Or perhaps it wasn’t? Maybe I wasn’t too late.
    I grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse. My own hands were trembling so much it was difficult to feel anything. I pressed firmly, softly, in several different places . . . but nothing.
    People Who Help Us. People Who Help Us. I dashed back to my bike and fumbled for my phone.
    ‘Emergency Services, which service do you require?’
    ‘Ambulance. Please. . .’ I swallowed a sob. ‘It’s my friend. I think he’s gone . . . please hurry.’
    Ten minutes, the calm voice at the end of the phone had informed me. The ambulance would be with me as quick as it could. I ran to the gates and opened them wide. Ran back. I had ten minutes to say goodbye.
    We had sat like this yesterday. On deckchairs in his shed. Only I hadn’t reached