Sowing The Seeds Of Love Part 18

'What?'

'As far as you know he never found out about it.'

'I would have known.'

'Not necessarily.'

Seth was sitting forward now, looking away from her. At some point he had withdrawn his hand.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It's like when Megan my ex started to see Siobhan, her girlfriend. I suspected for months before I actually found out about it.'

'Thanks, Seth.'

'I'm just being honest.'

'Don't you think I feel bad enough as it is? I know what I did was wrong. Unforgivable, even. But, believe me, I've paid a price for it. Jesus Christ.' She stood up, angry now.

'Where are you going?'

'Liam! Packing-up time.'

She looked back at Seth to find he was staring at her, his expression hard. She knew why: she'd disappointed him. She'd failed to live up to the image he'd had of her in his head. Well, f.u.c.k him. She'd never told him to put her on a pedestal.

She gathered up Liam's belongings and turned to him again. He was stony-faced. 'Do you know what it took for me to confide in you?' she said, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice. 'I never thought you'd throw it back in my face. You might have thought better of me, but I thought better of you too, Seth.'

She turned and walked away from him, muttering, 'a.r.s.ehole,' under her breath, just loudly enough for him to hear.

The garden was by now producing far too much fruit and vegetables for the gardeners alone to consume. An emergency meeting was called. This consisted of Aoife, Uri, Seth and Mrs Prendergast standing in a rough circle, leaning on forks and spades.

'We have to decide what to do with the leftover veggies. We can't let them go to waste.'

'No. Absolutely not,' said Uri.

'We could have a harvest festival,' said Seth.

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Mrs Prendergast. 'It's far too early in the year for that.'

'But we have the produce now.'

'A harvest festival isn't held until the autumn.'

'We'll call it something different, then.'

'A harvest festival is a good idea. Maybe we can plan one for a couple of months down the line. But, in the meantime, I have another proposal.'

They all looked at Aoife expectantly.

'How about seeing if the Good Food Store would sell it for us? I'm sure Emily's aunt would agree. She's very accommodating and they have a little fruit-and-veg section already. What do you think?'

'It's worth a try,' said Mrs Prendergast.

'It's an excellent idea,' said Uri.

'What would we do with the profit?' asked Seth. 'There's hardly any point in ploughing it back into the garden.'

He found himself at the receiving end of three dirty looks.

'What?' He held up his hands. 'Well, there isn't, is there?'

Aoife, who still wasn't really talking to him, addressed him coolly: 'We can decide what to do with any profit we make at a later date. Let's just see if she'll agree to it first. Uri, will you come with me? Mrs Prendergast, I think I'm right in saying you don't get on with her particularly well, and Seth would just annoy her.'

'How would I annoy her?'

'You're just annoying.'

'Thanks.'

'Of course I'll come with you,' said Uri.

They spent the rest of the morning putting together a selection of their finest produce. When it was a.s.sembled, Aoife and Uri carried the box to the shop. As luck would have it, Emily's aunt, her father's sister-in-law, happened to be behind the counter when they called. 'Ah, Aoife, what can I do for you today?'

Among the Hartes, Aoife was widely credited with getting Emily back on the straight and narrow. This was a card she was prepared to play if she had to.

She plonked the box on the counter in front of her. 'It's more a question of what we can do for you.'

'Is that so?'

'Yes, it is. You do know Uri Mr Rosenberg?'

'Of course. Morning, Mr Rosenberg.'

'Good morning, Mrs Harte.'

'What I have in this box is an example of the food we've been producing in the community garden you know, Mrs Prendergast's old walled garden.'

'I do indeed.'

'We were wondering if you'd be interested in selling it for us.'

The woman looked as if she needed convincing.

'A percentage of the profit to go to the shop, of course,' said Uri.

'Of course,' echoed Aoife. 'And you can't get fresher fruit and veg than this. Hand-picked in the last hour. Local produce grown by local people. It fits in with the ethos of the shop: food for the community grown by the community, no air miles, no pesticides...' She trailed off, looking to see if her words were having any impact.

'I'll tell you what,' said Mrs Harte. 'I'll give this lot a try, and if it sells, I'll take some more off your hands.

It was all sold by that evening. They were in business.

Aoife arrived in the garden first thing and carried out her usual tour of inspection. She'd had a heavy week in college and hadn't visited for days. She was heading towards the runner beans when she spotted it: one perfect, plump, shiny, voluptuous tomato. Bright red. Tomato red, even. She caressed it gently, loath to disturb such perfection. It looked so delicious. n.o.body would know...

'Hi there.'

She jumped. It was Seth. 'What are you doing here?'

'Same as you.'

'You gave me a fright.'

'Why? What are you up to?'

'Nothing.'

She had quickly withdrawn her hand from the tomato, but she hadn't been quick enough in averting her gaze. Seth leaned over to the plant. 'Is it A tomato. Brilliant.' He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. 'Aoife Madigan, you weren't thinking of eating it, were you?'

'Of course not.'

'Are you sure?' He was mocking her now.

Aoife felt herself redden. Tomato red?

'Something, something, something... money can't buy except true love oh, you know the song, home-grown tomatoes.'

He delivered this in the most appalling southern American accent, p.r.o.nouncing 'tomatoes' the American way.

'What?'

'It's a song. Guy Clark, I think. Country and western.'

Aoife laughed in spite of herself. 'I like it. Only please don't say it in that terrible accent.'

Seth laughed too, evidently relieved that she was talking to him. 'Do you think it's true?' he said.

'I don't know.'

'Why don't you give it a try?' He took a step closer to her.

'What do you mean?'

'Try it.' He touched the plant.

'Oh, the tomato.'

'What did you think I meant?'

'Nothing. I can't eat it.'

'Why not? That's what it's for.'

'But it's not mine to eat. It belongs to everybody.'

'There'll be other tomatoes. You started this thing. It seems only fair that you should get the first taste.'

'You think so?'

'Go on.'

Aoife gripped the tomato, prepared to give it a good tug, but it fell into her hand as if it had been waiting for her. She looked at Seth again. He nodded and smiled. Then she bit deep into the tender flesh, the unimaginable sweetness bursting on to her tongue. 'Mm.' She closed her eyes.

Seth laughed.

'Here.' She held it up to his mouth.

Seth, his eyes not leaving hers, held Aoife's hand as he bit into the tomato. He continued to hold her hand long after he'd finished chewing. 'I'm sorry, Aoife. You were right. I am an a.r.s.ehole and I apologize.'

'I'm sorry too.'

'Yoo-hoo!' It was Mrs Prendergast. Seth withdrew his hand and the two stepped away from one another.

They were digging a new flowerbed, Seth and Aoife. Except Aoife felt as if she was just making up the numbers, Seth being able to dig three times faster and deeper than she was, no matter how hard she worked. Liam and Kathy were helping too, Kathy with her pink Barbie spade. Since she'd met Kathy, Aoife had discovered that they made a Barbie just-about-everything. The child had Barbie wellies and a pink Barbie bicycle. Liam was using his favourite yellow digger, scooping up minute particles of earth and moving them a few centimetres. If it wasn't for Seth, they'd have been digging until Christmas.

It was pleasant, satisfying work, despite or perhaps because of the hard physical labour involved. The children nattered aimlessly and asked all sorts of irrelevant questions. Such as: 'Aoife?'

'Yes, Kathy.'

'Are you going to be my new mammy?'

The rhythm of Seth's digging was disturbed for a barely discernible nano-second. Aoife didn't dare look at him. 'Why are you asking me that?'

'Because I already have two mammies and if I had you as well I'd have three.'

'Well, I think two mammies are plenty for any girl. And I'm already Liam's mammy. I'm pretty busy doing that.'

'You're not Liam's mammy. You're his mummy.'

'That's very true.'

'Well, if you're not going to be my mammy, why were you holding my daddy's hand the other day?'

Silence. Aoife could feel her face growing hot.

'Kathy, leave Aoife alone now. She's trying to work.'

'But I want to know why she was holding your hand.' Kathy's voice became whiny.

'Your daddy was holding my hand to make me feel better because I was sad.'