“It’s just what?” he asked. It was then that his mobile phone rang. Gracie looked at the table. Willing him not to pick it up. He did, of course. Then she thought he’d just check the number and put it down again, but he didn’t. He looked flustered. Then guilty and said, “You don’t mind if I quickly get this, do you?” and answered anyway.

Gracie watched him as he started talking business with someone she didn’t know. She kicked off her shoes and turned to climb the stairs to her bedroom. By the time he started looking for her again, she had locked herself in the bathroom and run the taps so he would think she was having a bath. Then she sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for him to leave before eventually feeling the vibration of the front door shutting heavily through her bare feet.

SEVENTEEN

THE PUMPKIN HAD stopped growing. Despite being fed regularly with the seaweed tea and watered several times a day, its belly stubbornly refused to swell. It had swelled from the size of a soccer ball to the size of a large beach ball, but now it had somehow stalled. As if it had thought to itself, That’s quite enough, thank you, that’s me done. Grandad had been measuring it with a measuring tape every day and had become quieter and quieter and more preoccupied. Marty had watched him, unable to offer him any ideas, and then Grandad did something very surprising. Something very surprising indeed. Something Marty had never thought he’d do in a million years. He called a meeting. An allotment meeting. He spread some old paint cans here and there for people to sit on and lit a fire. He propped up an old piece of board and used the Tea Stirrer 300 as an easel. Over the board, he had spread the map from the shed wall. Marty had absolutely no idea what he was doing or what the plan was.

Marty watched as Sadiq and John, the lady from allotment number 7 who no one knew the name of, and Colin the milkman and a few others all came and filed in. They were talking among themselves, wondering what on earth was going on when Grandad whacked an empty tin bucket with a spoon and called the meeting to order. He cleared his throat, and for once in Marty’s life, he was sure he saw some uncertainty in Grandad’s eyes. Marty took the seat nearest the pumpkin and waited.

“Right, you’ve been called here in the strictest confidence because Marty and I, well, we need your help.”

Everyone looked at one another.

“I’ve tried everything, but I just can’t get that pumpkin to grow…”

John scratched his head.

“You’ve called us here for tips on how to grow that pumpkin?”