Almost a Date

Micah invited her to the allotment open afternoon in a message that made it difficult to tell whether he was inviting her to spend time with him or to purchase a courgette plant.

Gran says bring anyone who looks solvent. I'm ignoring the solvent part. Saturday?

Leila showed Esme.

“That's a date,” Esme said.

“It mentions his grandmother.”

“People with grandmothers date.”

“It also mentions plants.”

“Some people date those. I don't judge.”

Leila took back the phone before Esme could type something irreversible.

On Saturday, she wore the blue jumper despite the forecast being too warm for it. Mum watched her put it on, take it off, inspect the shirt beneath it and put the jumper back on.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“You look as though you're preparing to negotiate a hostage release.”

“It's an open afternoon.”

“Of course.”

Toby wanted to come until he learned there would be no football and no guarantee of cake. Mum said she would take him to the park instead. Leila was grateful, then immediately annoyed with herself for treating her brother as an obstacle to the possibility of liking someone.

The allotment gate had balloons tied to it. One had lost enough air to resemble a badly peeled pear. Inside, a folding table held jars of chutney, small plants and a cash tin. The woman behind it was so determined to sell everything that Leila avoided eye contact.

Micah stood by the shed holding a tray of tea mugs. He was not wearing the supermarket jacket. This simple change in clothing made him seem newly available to notice.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello.”

They both looked at the tray.

“Do you need help?”

“Yes, but you don't have to begin your visit by working.”

Leila took two mugs anyway. “I prefer having something to do with my hands.”

“Same.”

Jean directed them to a pair of visitors sitting beneath the plum tree. Leila recognised Mrs Holt, who had shared the compost delivery. Mrs Holt asked whether she and Micah were at the same college. Before either could answer, her husband began describing the college he had attended in 1968, giving the question a different purpose.

They escaped when Jean needed change for a five-pound note.

Micah led Leila between the beds, showing her the plants he had rescued. They looked less dramatic than before. Upright leaves and new growth made them seem ordinary, which apparently counted as success.

“I'm disappointed,” Leila said. “I thought they'd remember us.”

“They're keeping it professional.”

At the far end, a narrow strip of land ran beside the railway fence. Someone had planted wildflowers there, though most had not yet opened. Micah pointed out what would come next and what had failed.

“How do you know all that?” she asked.

“By getting things wrong in front of my gran.”

“Useful educational system.”

“Very direct feedback.”

They stopped beside a bed he had planned himself. Leila could tell because he became less casual describing it. There were plants for different parts of the season, a low edge of herbs and a space left deliberately bare.

“What's going there?”

“I don't know yet.”

“Your gran allows that?”

“She doesn't like it. I'm practising disagreement.”

Leila knelt to look at the shape of a leaf. The soil was dry at the top and darker just beneath. Micah crouched beside her, close enough that she could see a pale mark across his knuckle.

“Do you always know what a drawing will be before you start?” he asked.

“No. I mostly know what it isn't when I see it.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It can be.”

He picked a dead leaf from the edge of the bed and turned it between his fingers.

“I thought about leaving the apprenticeship application,” he said. “Just staying at the supermarket and helping here.”

“Why?”

“Because it's what I already know how to do. And Gran acts as though the allotment will slide into the railway if I'm not here every Saturday.”

“Would it?”

“No. She's been doing it since before I existed.”

He smiled, but it did not quite dismiss the worry.

“What does she actually say about the apprenticeship?” Leila asked.

“That the train fare's ridiculous, the early start will do me good and I should bring back anything they let me take.”

“That sounds like she wants you to go.”

“I know.”

It was strange, hearing someone else struggle with an interpretation that seemed obvious from the outside. Leila wondered how many of her own fears looked equally manageable when they were not inside her.

They bought cake from the table by the gate. There was a guarantee after all. Leila chose a slice with too much icing and paid for it herself. Micah bought two cups of tea and asked whether she wanted milk instead of assuming.

They sat on an overturned crate behind the shed because all the chairs had been claimed. A blackbird hopped along the edge of a bed, ignoring a hand-lettered sign asking visitors not to tread on seedlings.

“Any news from the gallery?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“When did they say?”

“Next week.”

“So the situation remains within the stated timetable.”

“Please don't be reasonable about it.”

“I'll stop immediately.”

She laughed, then looked down at the icing on her thumb. When she looked up, he was watching her rather than the bird.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing bad.”

“That isn't a complete answer.”

“No.”

He seemed about to say something else when Jean came round the corner and asked him to carry a sack of something that required both hands and a serious change of posture. Leila stood to help. Jean told her to finish the cake and gave Micah a look Leila could not interpret.

For the next hour, they worked more than they talked. Leila made a new price sign after the old one fell into a watering can. Micah carried chairs and explained to a small boy that worms were not available for purchase. Jean sold the rescued seedlings to three separate people while referring to them as excellent young plants, apparently forgetting the trial they had undergone on arrival.

At the end, Micah walked Leila to the gate.

“Sorry,” he said. “That became more work than intended.”

“I like working here.”

“I know. But I wanted to see you, not just exploit your sign-writing.”

Her face became warm in a way the jumper could no longer explain.

“You did see me.”

“Yes. Holding various objects.”

A train passed. They waited until they could hear each other again.

“Would you like to do something that doesn't involve my gran?” he asked. “Or plants, unless they're incidental.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He smiled, then looked briefly at the ground. She liked that he could be uncertain without becoming someone else.

“Tuesday after college?” he asked. “The café by the library? I finish at three.”

“I can do an hour.”

“An hour's good.”

She had told him the actual limit instead of offering time she would have to steal from somewhere. It made the arrangement feel smaller and more real.

At the hotel, Toby asked whether the plants had behaved well.

“Mostly.”

“Did you bring cake?”

She had. A slice wrapped in a napkin, slightly crushed at one edge. He took it with solemn gratitude and carried it to the desk.

Mum looked up from the laundry.

“Nice afternoon?”

Leila took off the jumper.

“Yes,” she said. “It was.”