Someone was pulling up the potatoes, peeling them, and gathering the largest ones.
Lucy stood still, her heart thumping. She walked on and saw that the biggest heads of cabbage were missing tooalmost half the cabbage crop had vanished.
Eleanor Whitaker rejoiced at her purchase. Not merely a purchase, it was the fulfilment of a longheld dream: to own a cottage in a hamlet once she retired.
She had prepared for this moment for years, selecting a picturesque village a short ride from the city, a place with only a handful of inhabitantsshe craved quiet, tranquillity, a close bond with nature, a modest garden for her soul.
Everything fell into place when a sturdy old cottage with a garden turned up on the edge of the village, right at the boundary where fields stretched out and, beyond them, the woods rose in a panorama that seemed endless.
Eleanor began to stroll along the soft lane toward the forest. In the evenings the sun slipped behind the tops of the pines and firs, and the sunsets were especially striking on those twilight walks.
Early in spring, as the earth thawed, Eleanor herself repaired a sloping fence of wire and boarding.
Maybe you should put a new fence up, Eleanor, suggested her neighbour Margaret, Lucys contemporary.
Let it stand for now, Eleanor replied, swinging her axe to drive the fallen iron post back into the ground. When it finally gives way Ill replace it with something sturdier.
Margaret smiled. Youre a proper English lady, Eleanor. Youll get plenty out of this. Its a pity there arent many men left in the villagemost have moved away with their families, grown old, or passed on. Ive been a widow for ten years now.
Eleanor nodded. My story is similar, though Im not widowed. My husband and I divorced when we realised the only thing keeping us together was the responsibility for our daughter. Once she was grown, educated, married, staying together became unbearable. Thats how it goes.
Better that we didnt torment each other, Margaret concluded, and Ill still put in a stronger fence in the autumn.
All through spring and summer Eleanor spent her days in the garden and the woods.
Ive never spent so much time outdoors in my life, she told Lucy, pointing to the hawthorns opposite the cottage and the pine forest where mushroomsparticularly morelscould always be found, and the summer berries that filled the hedgerows. I feel Im practically living on the lane, breathing the pureest air!
Margaret, a towndweller, replied, Its lovely when people are happy with their move, and for me it feels quite natural.
The women grew close. Autumn arrived, and in the garden the cabbage heads were plump, the potatoes were turning a rich brown and the harvest was bountiful. Eleanor began to dig up potatoes for the kitchen, unable to get enough of the tender, fragrant vegetables.
Maggie, I wont be here for a few days, she told her neighbour. Theres a reunion with my old school friendsour class elder, Sylvia, is celebrating her birthday. Ill be back, and then Ill finish harvesting.
Margaret waved her off. The evening of the reunion passed wonderfully. Lucy praised her new village, showed pictures of the cottage, and boasted about the excellent crop.
This land has rested well, she explained to her old classmate Valerie, we havent planted anything for two years, but next year Ill order a manure spreader for the tractor and start fertilising the beds.
Dont overwork yourself, Valerie warned kindly. Call if you need a hand, Ill come by.
Thanks, Im managing for now, Lucy smiled.
Once, Lucy and Valerie had been close in the senior years of school, even sharing a shy affection, but their paths diverged as they entered different colleges in distant towns. Life had scattered them, as it does with most schoolmates.
Now, each year they met at Sylvias celebration with a warm nostalgia.
Valerie, a widower, had no desire to remarry, and neither did Eleanor; they were open about it. Their freedom felt refreshingno obligations, just easy conversation as old friends.
That evening, Valerie escorted Lucy to her cottage, and they talked in the kitchen until nearly two in the morning.
Look at the time, Lucy said, glancing at the clock. You should be home.
I might find a corner here, Valerie teased.
No, Im leaving early tomorrow for the village. Take a cab home, itll be better for both of us.
Lucy saw him off, then collapsed into bed, savoring the promise of tomorrows tasks and the upcoming visit from Margaret, for whom she had baked a cake and prepared a batch of toffee.
The next morning a bus rolled into the village, the first to arrive. Lucy stepped onto the dewy grass, inhaling the familiar country air accompanied by the distant lowing of cattle.
She entered her cottage, poured tea, changed into work clothes, and walked out into the garden to plan the days chores.
The village was silent; only a few residents emerged onto their front yards. Lucy waited until about nine oclock, then set off for Margarets house.
In the garden she immediately noticed the potato rows in disarrayspuds littered everywhere, a broken fence lying across the earth. Someone had been pulling up the potatoes, peeling them, and had taken the biggest one. Her heart skipped a beat again. Further along she saw that the largest cabbage heads were gone, nearly half the crop missing.
She let out a startled cry and then spotted the toppled fence post she had so diligently driven into the ground in spring. Large boot prints marked the soil.
Eleanor hurried to Margarets window and knocked. The neighbour appeared almost at once.
Whats happened, Eleanor? Margaret asked.
Theyve robbed us, Maggie! Come, lets see whats left. What shall we do now? Tears streamed down Eleanors cheeks.
Margaret slipped on her coat and rushed out. Scoundrels she muttered, they must have known we lived at the edge, with no dog, and that I was alone.
They inspected the scene. It was clear that a pair of cyclists had crept up from the far side of the fence, broken the post, bent the wire, slipped into the garden and taken whatever they could. They tossed the small potatoes aside, but bagged the biggest cabbage heads and rode off.
Its not much we had left anyway, Eleanor sighed, but still
Exactly, Margaret agreed, and vegetables bear no namewho stole what is impossible to prove. Everyones garden is vulnerable. I suspect these lads came from the nearby towns, unemployed drunks, but theres no proof. No point in chasing ghosts.
What now? Lucy asked, sitting on the porch, I was so hopeful, like a child in pink spectacles. Everyone seemed kind.
This isnt our kind of place, Eleanor, Margaret replied. Neighbouring villages have people scrambling for money, needing a drink. God sees all. Dont lose heart. Ill fetch Mr. Thomas Brown; hell fix the fence. Then well think of a plan.
The seventyyearold handyman arrived before noon, replaced the broken post with a sturdy wooden one and patched the gap with old but sound planks.
There you are, madam, take this work and dont be disheartened, he said. In these parts, such thefts happen often. Never leave a house unattended.
How many things then? Lucy asked, halfjoking.
Five, Thomas answered. A new lock on the front door, a sturdy fence, a watchdogperhaps a small one that barks at the first sign of troubleplus a reliable man to look after it.
They all laughed, and Lucy dabbed at her eyes.
My grief is not for the potatoes or cabbage, but for the labour I poured into them, she whispered. All that work stripped away.
Dont worry, Margaret embraced her. Ill give you as much of my cabbage as you need. My garden is full. Well store it for winter. We grew it together, after all.
They all went to Lucys cottage for lunch. Calmed, she recounted her city meeting and promised that once the harvest was collected she would follow through on the security measures they had discussed.
A week later Eleanor travelled to the town and called on Arthur, a friend who owned a hardware shop. He helped her buy a nightlock for the front door and showed her the price of new fence panels.
Ill help you and you wont refuse, Arthur said. Well take measurements on site, then Ill go with you to the village. Ill stay a few days, look over your homestead and draw up a plan.
Are you really offering to help? Lucy began, then stopped. Dont talk about payment.
Im on holiday, with nothing to do, and this seems a good cause, Arthur replied, clasping her hand and giving a gentle kiss.
The villagers marveled at the arrival of the handyman and the two men working together to erect a new fence within a week, bringing in steel posts and timber from the town.
Eleanor prepared a simple stew for the helpers, delighted that her garden and plot were now surrounded by a solid barrier.
Nothing can stop a thief, Arthur said, but the real treasure here is you, Eleanor.
Thomas brought a little terrier from his sisters farm and christened him Baron. The pup scampered about the yard, more a soft toy than a guard, yet Eleanor soon grew fond of him. They built a snug, insulated doghouse beside the garden so Baron could keep watch.
One afternoon at tea, Eleanor laughed with Margaret and Thomas. Hows everything? Is the man sturdy enough? Thomas asked, eyeing Arthur.
Indeed, Margaret replied, we see the affection between you two. Hes a good fellow, and he works without asking for money. I wont restrict his freedom.
Eleanor, feeling shy, said only, Lets see how it goes.
After his leave, Arthur returned with crates of provisions. May I stay as a permanent helper? he joked at the doorway. I only ask for a bowl of soup and a slice of pie; the garden will keep us fed.
Fine, just roll up your sleeves, Eleanor chuckled, and youll also guard the house while Baron matures.
Arthur commuted to the city for his job, returning only intermittently to sort out paperwork and pay the bills. Lucy let her city flat go to tenants, waiting for Arthurs deliveries of groceries on his occasional trips.
They both enjoyed each others company, missing the warmth of a family hearth yet finding joy in the cosy cottage atmosphere.
A year passed, then a month, and the couple became wellknown in the village, though they still visited the seaside resort each spring. When they were away, Thomas looked after the house, feeding Baron and even the stray cat, reporting the situation by telephone.
Relax at the resort, worry not about the cottage, he would tell Lucy. Everythings finethe cat, the dog, the garden.
She would answer, Im convinced the best holiday now is right here at home. I cant wait to be back.
Thus Arthur and Lucy settled together, rarely feeling the pull of distant lands, for their fields offered sunsets more magnificent than any foreign horizon.
They loved wandering beyond the village edge, strolling into the woods as the sun slipped down peacefully. Behind them, faithful Baron would sprint along, delighted by the chase, darting after the jays perched on the roads verge.
