10 Across (Five Letters)

- Valerie Bettag

Moving back was always going to be tough. But what choice did I have? None at all. I’d loved the buzz of city life and deep down knew I was going to miss it a great deal.

Family comes first, I told myself firmly. You’ve just got to do this. So trying to focus on all the positive things, like long walks in the woods with Buddy. I visualised us bounding though piles of autumn leaves, kicking them out of the way and feeling exhilarated.

I could take the time to read, maybe even finish a whole book without falling asleep from exhaustion on the Underground. I might take up art! I’d always fancied myself as a landscape painter. The possibilities were endless.

I allowed myself to daydream. What about wood-carving, tap-dancing or piano lessons?

No chance. I moved, all right. But those brief daydreams evaporated the second I opened my new front door to a man wearing his shirt inside out. He was smearing clods of mud on my front step with his wellies.

“What’s your name, then?” he said. “Beth,” I replied. “Wow, what on earth is that?” “Is that right?”

He held out the ferocious-looking plant. “A small gift.”

Now, plants and gardens are not my forte and I certainly don’t possess green fingers, but it was touchingly wrapped in Cellophane with several curly, twirly, scarlet, ribbons.

“Grew it myself.” He beamed.

“That’s so kind.” My heart sank. I had visions of being dragged along to some local gardening club. Don’t get me wrong, I admire all you gardeners out there. I love sitting in gardens, love garden parties and really appreciate all the hard work, hedge cutting, planting out and so on that this involves all year round. It’s just that I am more of an indoor person.