Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (classic literature list .TXT) 📗

white flowers, like little clusters of stars itself. The boys would love it. At least she hoped they would.

And if they didn’t, they could always give it back. It would look rather fetching in her own front garden.

Amy fought the urge to buy a second geranium to keep, but did allow herself a little browse through the assortment of seasonal plants. Strawberry plants were on special, with dainty white flowers and little berries ripening. She selected three healthy specimens, one for herself and one for each boy, wondering if she could spare two more small pots to plant them in before she gave them away.

Of course she could, she decided, feeling generous. Maybe she’d even give them one of her small watering cans. She couldn’t bear to think of the strawberries going thirsty, the plump red fruits shrivelling like raisins.

‘No pots today, love?’ The man at the garden centre till grinned at her.

‘No,’ she said firmly, then hesitated a moment. Panic began to rise up in her throat. One pot had been broken. She was giving away one more with the geranium and two small ones for the strawberries. Her stock was dwindling.

The man saw her hesitation. ‘We’ve got some lovely pots on special,’ he said. ‘Three for two.’

That was a good deal.

Her hand went back to the ring, dangling around her neck.

‘I’ve got enough, thank you,’ she replied. She paid for her purchases and carefully put them in bags, hurrying towards the bus stop in case she changed her mind.

Amy used a pair of scissors to slice into a sack of topsoil in her back garden. Picking up a small shovel, she lined the selected pot with earth before carefully turning over the geranium and shaking it free from its plastic pot. She planted it carefully in its new home, topping up the sides with fresh soil and patting it down. The strawberries were next, each going into one of her small pots: a red one for Daniel, white for Charles. Some stems already had small berries protruding, others were still in blossom. The plants were wilting, so Amy picked up her watering can and gave the thirsty plants the drink they longed for.

Amy wiped her hand across her forehead and found she was sweating. She’d already changed from her usual uniform of black leggings and a loose T-shirt into an old pair of denim shorts that she’d found and a vest top. But she was still far too hot. And as thirsty as the plants had been. When she used to help out in her grandmother’s garden, her grandma would bring her fresh lemonade to cool her down. Even when grandma was suffering from arthritis, she still insisted on squeezing lemons by hand. Amy remembered helping, the sour juice sometimes escaping and stinging her eyes. Her grandmother would always kiss them better.

‘Hello!’ Charles poked his head through the gap and grinned at her. ‘Dad is putting up the new fence this afternoon.’

‘That’s good,’ said Amy.

‘But there’s still time to change your mind,’ he told her. ‘If you’d like to keep a gap.’

‘No,’ said Amy. ‘I think it’s for the best.’

‘OK,’ said Charles. He watched her as she poured more water from the watering can on to her newly planted pots. ‘Can I help?’

‘All done,’ said Amy. She picked up the geranium. ‘This is for you,’ she said. ‘For all of you, to say thank you for the fence.’ She passed it through the gap, feeling a little wrench as she let go.

‘I have strawberry plants for you too,’ she continued, determined to follow through with her plan. ‘One for you and one for Daniel.’ She lifted the pots, one in each hand, and passed them through the gap.

‘To keep?’ asked Charles, sounding incredulous as he reached out to take one. ‘For ever?’

‘For as long as you can keep them alive,’ said Amy, feeling concern rising up in her. ‘You must water them every day. Not too much, though.’

‘Daniel!’ Charles was shouting to his brother. ‘Come and see what Amy got us.’

‘That’s lovely,’ Richard’s head appeared over the fence. ‘How kind of you, Amy.’

‘It’s nothing,’ said Amy.

‘It’s the best present ever,’ said Charles. ‘After my digger and my fire truck and my—’

‘We get the idea,’ said Richard, with a laugh. ‘Amy, I thought you might like to inspect the fencing I’ve chosen.’

‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ said Amy, secretly hoping it would be tall enough that he wouldn’t be able to see over it.

‘It’s your side really, so I thought you might like to make sure it’s to your liking.’

‘Oh,’ said Amy. She paused. ‘I’ll pay you for it, of course.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Richard. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m the one with little escape artists chasing down your cat.’

‘Smudge is not my cat,’ said Amy, again. She found herself blushing. He probably kept getting it wrong because she was a woman living alone and therefore he made an assumption that she was a little old cat lady. ‘I’m probably younger than you think,’ she said to herself.

‘What?’ asked Richard. ‘Listen, pop on through while you still can. We can chat over here. Maybe you’d like some lemonade?’

Amy started a bit at the offer. The family next door seemed to have an uncanny ability to read her mind. ‘OK,’ she said, unable to resist, and made her way to the gap in the fence.

Amy was disappointed at the other side. The lemonade was not in a glass jug with fresh lemons and clinking ice cubes like her grandmother used to make; it was a rather warm can of 7-Up that Richard tossed in her direction and she failed to catch.

‘She likes pineapple juice,’ Charles scolded his father, picking up the can, brushing off the grass and handing it to her.

‘Sorry,’ said Richard.

‘I like lemonade too,’ said Amy. She held the can awkwardly, aware that if she opened it she ran the risk of spraying them all with sweet wasp-bait. She looked up