Read Online Ivy Lane: Winter: by Cathy Bramley - Free Book Online Page A

looked across the allotment. Shazza was here, but no Karen. I’d spotted Christine in the pavilion office and Liz was in her polytunnel. But that was it. Roll on summer when Ivy Lane was teeming with colour and people and life . . .
    I pushed the spade into the soil, rested my foot on it and took a breather. Despite the temperature, which was barely above freezing, I was hot and out of breath.
    Today I was digging the area that Brenda had had her potatoes in. I hadn’t really done much digging on my plot all year. Since Charlie had ploughed it all up with the rotavator in March, I’d managed to keep it ticking over with a fork and a hoe. But now that I was virtually a gardening expert, I knew about leaving clods of earth for the winter frosts to break down to give me a good start next spring. The next job would be to cover all the bare earth over with manure. I was in no rush to do that bit.
    It was back-breaking work but fairly mindless, which was just as well because my head was crammed full with all the things I still had left to do before Christmas.
    ‘Tilly!’ I looked across to the road to see Christine bustling towards me waving a piece of paper in her hand. ‘Are you busy next week?’ she called.
    I bit my lip and smiled. Ask any teacher if they are busy in the run-up to Christmas and they are likely to stare at you, gimlet-eyed, before either bursting into hysterical tears or charging at you with the nearest blunt instrument.
    ‘Why?’ I asked as she got closer. I’d learned my lesson with Christine. She would have to reveal her hand before I revealed mine.
    She hugged me, smiled from underneath her bobble hat, and held out a mocked-up poster for the Ivy Lane Christmas party.
    ‘I need some ideas for the party and as you did so well with the cake sale . . .?’ She beamed at me hopefully.
    I took a deep breath.
    Before the end of term, which was less than two weeks away, I had the Christmas disco to supervise and the staff Christmas lunch to attend (think soggy sprouts, dry pre-sliced turkey and not even a sniff of sweet sherry to wash it down). My class had been chosen to sing carols at a local old people’s home, which I was assured was an honour, but the exchange of relieved looks between the deputy head and the reception teacher didn’t go unnoticed, and there were three performances of the whole school nativity to be organized and endured. And our ‘Mary’, a little girl in my class, had informed me two days ago that she wouldn’t be there for the show, because she was going to Tenerife with her whole family for Christmas.
    All of this would be hard enough to cope with at any time of year, but now, with thirty children in full Christmas party mode in my charge, I was exhausted.
    Nonetheless, I took the piece of paper from her.
    The poster promised mulled wine, mince pies and the presentation of the prizes won at the annual show back in August. But apart from the refreshments, it lacked a certain ‘festiveness’.
    ‘Hmm, it doesn’t seem very Christmassy.’
    Christine sighed. ‘Exactly. That’s just what I was thinking.’
    She shoved her hands in her anorak pockets, rolled her lips inwards and frowned. I stifled a smile; with her red cheeks, bobble hat and earnest expression she looked like a little elf.
    ‘I think we need a bit more Christmas spirit,’ I said. ‘How about a Secret Santa? We pick names out of a hat and buy each other a present? And what about collecting a gift from each plot holder for the children that go to the soup kitchen? That would be a nice touch. And decorations . . .’ I twinkled my eyes at her. ‘Leave the decorations to me.’
    ‘Oh Tilly, I’ll leave it all to you if you don’t mind.’ Christine threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
    I swallowed anxiously. I did mind really.
    ‘What with the baby coming soon, me helping Gemma out with the cooking and cleaning and trying to sort everything out at Ivy Lane . . . it’s all getting on top of