Ivy Lane: Spring: Read Online Free PDF Page A

the agenda? Sorry, don’t mean to be rude.’
    Peter cleared his throat. ‘Of course. Righto. Item one . . .’
    I sent Charlie a grateful smile and silently mouthed my thanks. He grinned back and gave me the thumbs-up.
    Fence mended.
    One out of three wasn’t bad, I supposed, as I began to type the AGM notes furiously.
    An hour later and it was all over bar the next round of tea. Everyone began to gravitate towards the kitchenette and a convivial buzz of conversation filled the pavilion.
    ‘Well done, love,’ said Christine, taking the laptop from me. She inserted a USB stick deftly and made a copy of my document.
    ‘No problem,’ I said, making a mental note never to sit next to her again. I stood up, circled my aching shoulders and turned to my neighbour. ‘Nigel, can I have a word?’
    ‘You fell for that, hook, line and sinker,’ said Gemma with a giggle as she approached and handed me yet more tea.
    ‘Your mother has turned delegation into an art form,’ agreed Nigel.
    ‘I don’t like to see people struggle,’ I said.
    Gemma choked on her tea. ‘That one knows her way around a computer better than Mia. She’s a PA!’
    ‘To a chartered accountant,’ added Nigel gloomily, ‘but I didn’t find that out until she had made me the treasurer. Anyway, how can I help?’
    I repeated my plan to hire the rotavator and managed to drop in ‘fine tilth’ again. Nigel made a note in the official equipment-hire diary and we arranged that I would collect it on Saturday, weather permitting.
    ‘I can help you with that,’ said Charlie, materializing at my side.
    ‘Thank you,’ I said, feeling my cheeks get hot. ‘But you’ve done enough already.’
    A sturdy woman with a double chin and a crooked nose elbowed her way into the conversation. ‘We women can manage on our own, Charlie. Not everyone is a damsel in distress, are they, Tilly?’
    The rest of us watched as she tipped her tea into the saucer, blew on it and slurped it up through pursed lips. I was reminded of the time James and I were in Egypt on camels and his suddenly knelt down for a drink, nearly flinging him out of the saddle.
    ‘Have you met Shazza?’ asked Gemma, trying to keep a straight face. ‘She’s on the plot next to ours.’
    Peter’s wife, then. And presumably into the exotic too.
    ‘Hi, Shazza.’ It came out as a squeak and a second wave of heat tinged my cheeks.
    ‘She’d love some help, Charlie,’ said Gemma. ‘I’d help myself, but I’ve got masseuse’s shoulder at the moment.’ She winced and rotated her shoulder to demonstrate. Shazza rolled her eyes in disgust.
    I really did want to protest, but what was the point? I did need help. But as soon as the plot was dug over and I had soil the texture of breadcrumbs, I wanted to be left to my own devices. Easier said than done in this place, I thought, looking round at the sea of curious faces.
    ‘Mum, time to go!’ yelled Mia from the doorway.
    ‘Oh, Mikey’s here.’ Gemma pulled a tin of Vaseline from her jeans pocket, dabbed a bit on her lips and fluffed up her hair. ‘My husband. He’s a car mechanic, so don’t be surprised if his hands look a bit grubby. Come and meet him.’ She took my arm and steered me towards the door before I had chance to refuse.
    Mia, although still scowling, had put her phone away and I was able to take in her features for the first time. Brown eyes and cappuccino-coloured skin, topped off with a cloud of tiny curls. Her skin-tight shiny leggings and trainers made her long legs look like golf clubs and as we got closer I noticed how much taller than Gemma she was. The only thing that she seemed to have inherited from her mother was the luscious long eyelashes. At a guess I’d say her dad was Afro-Caribbean. And very tall. Unlike the diminutive, ginger-haired Austin Powers lookalike standing next to Mia, jingling his car keys.
    Five pounds says there was an interesting tale there.
    I was introduced, kissed, hugged, glared at (Mia)