‘Which still leaves us the problem of how to get close enough,’ said David. ‘There’s only one gate in and out.’
‘There are also houses around three sides,’ she pointed out. ‘Houses which have back gardens and back gates that let onto the plots. They can’t possibly watch all of those.’
‘All right then, were you thinking of one in particular?’
* * *
They’d been able to hear the sound of a late-night TV variety show on at a punishing volume through the closed front door of Shirley Hewitson’s house, so it must have been something of a miracle that she heard them knocking. When she opened the door the sound of a crowd whipped up to manic intensity flooded out. She was in her pyjamas and dressing gown.
‘Dennie,’ she said. ‘David. Do you know what time this is?’
‘Yes, we do,’ Dennie replied. ‘Sorry about that.’ They were treading a fine line between waiting for the allotment tenants to go home – which had taken some time given the long midsummer evening – and getting there in time to interrupt the Farrow’s activities. The silver lining to it was that the night was so short and mild that David and Dennie wouldn’t have to spend hours waiting around in the freezing cold.
‘We’ve come about Matt,’ said David.
Shirley’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God! Is he okay?’
‘Yes,’ replied Dennie. ‘As far as we know.’
‘What do you mean as far as we know?’
‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ answered David, ‘so I’m just going to come right out – he’s fallen in with some nasty folk, I’m afraid. Look, this is a bit tricky, and I don’t think you want to be talking about it on the doorstep; do you mind if we come in?’
Shirley led them through to her living room and muted the TV but didn’t turn it off. On the screen a pixie-like host in a sequinned jacket continued to gurn and cavort with some Z-list celebrities while the audience wet its collective self at the hilarity of it all. Shirley had a large conservatory full of houseplants and a sofa the consistency of marshmallow where she invited them to sit. Viggo stayed in the kitchen, eyeing some unwashed takeaway containers in case they tried to make a run for it.
‘It’s those people up at that farm, isn’t it?’ Shirley asked. ‘They’re one of those county lines gangs, aren’t they?’
‘Something like that, yes,’ David said. ‘And, well, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but there’s going to be a police raid on them tonight. They’ve been dealing out of their shed on the allotment, apparently. I heard it from some of the regular officers.’
‘About bloody time. But what’s going to happen to my boy?’
‘That’s what we came to talk to you about,’ said Dennie. ‘We think we can help him, purely on a sort of informal Neighbourhood Watch level, without having to involve the actual police if we can help it.’
David leaned forward conspiratorially, and also to avoid being eaten by the furniture. ‘Shirley,’ he said. ‘I’m trusting you here. This is totally against regulations. If the police find out that I’ve been talking to you about this I’ll probably end up going to jail for perverting the course of justice. But Matt’s a good boy deep down, and I know he deserves a second chance. What we want to do is talk to him – that’s all, just talk – to try and make him see sense. The problem is that we can’t get anywhere near him at the farm and the gang will be watching the main entrance to the allotments, so we were wondering if we could use your back gate to sort of sneak in and have a quiet word with him before it all kicks off. Then we can bring him back here and when the police do their thing he’s got a perfect alibi.’
‘Of course!’ said Shirley. ‘Why didn’t you just say so right from the start?’
‘We don’t know exactly when they’re going to be there. It might be quite a while.’
‘I should come with you! He’ll listen to me!’
‘You’ll be right here, keeping the home lights on for him and a cup of tea,’ said Dennie, and squeezed her hand.
Shirley brushed away tears and nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll be waiting up, don’t you worry about that.’
She led them down to the fence at the end of the garden. It was heavily overgrown with ivy and the boards of its larch-lap panels had disintegrated here and there, but the gate was solid enough. She undid the lock and let them through into the allotment which lay on the other side. It was a bit wild just here – nothing like as bad as the Neary plot, but some of the nettles were almost at head height and there were a couple of tall buddleia bushes in full bloom that perfumed the evening air and offered excellent cover. They were on almost the complete opposite side of the allotments from the Neary plot, with the Pavilion between. It was a lot of ground to cover. Still, she knew the location of every water butt, polytunnel, glasshouse, and cold frame better than the rooms of her own house now. They might have burned down her shed, but this was still her home and her territory.
‘Do you think you can get us there without being seen?’ David whispered to her.
‘Try to keep up,’ she whispered back, and set off.
* * *
David followed her from shadow to shadow. As they paused behind someone’s greenhouse he saw a lawn-edging tool that someone had carelessly left
