traditional cottage-garden plants. There was a semi wildness about it, much like Joe and Bex themselves, thought Kerry. The rear of the garden was fenced off, a small gate leading to the vegetable plot. Bex embraced the whole home-grown, organic ethos and could often be found tending to the many varieties of vegetables and fruits. Even with the recent birth of their second child, Bex was still a dedicated gardener.
The other side of their garden was home to free-range hens, which Bex had rescued from a battery farm. Only last week, Kerry had helped Joe make another hen house to accommodate the recent additions to Bex’s poultry sanctuary.
‘You’re wasting your breath trying to persuade him to buy a new one,’ said Bex, coming out into the garden. ‘I’ve been telling him for the past two years, but he likes a challenge.’ She smiled as she spoke.
‘I was thinking maybe we should go for the meadow look,’ said Joe, as he picked up a spanner from the ground and began tightening a nut. ‘Is Breeze asleep?’
‘Yes, I’ve just fed her,’ said Bex. ‘She’s gone straight off. It’s hard to believe she’s only a month old, she’s such a dream.’
At that moment, their three-year-old son came tearing out into the garden, dressed in a Superman outfit.
‘Watch out,’ said Kerry, sidestepping the youngster. ‘Superman Storm’s arrived. Hey, buddy, who are you saving the world from today?’
‘Marshmallow Man!’ called back Storm as he raced around the garden, stopping by the path to have an imaginary fight with his adversary. Skip raised his head to see what all the fuss was about, but the warmth of the sun was a more tempting option and he rested his head back down.
Bex turned back to Joe. ‘Why don’t you borrow your dad’s mower?’ she said. ‘We can’t go for the meadow look, we’ve got the barbecue soon and then a couple of weeks after that it’s Breeze’s naming ceremony.’
‘I’m…not…giving up,’ muttered Joe and then cursed as the spanner slipped from the bolt and clattered to the floor.
‘Want me to take a look?’ said Kerry. He pushed himself away from the side of the shed.
‘Nope. It’s not going to win,’ said Joe. Picking up his spanner again and issuing a series of threats to the machine, he set back to work.
‘I’ll take that as my cue to leave,’ said Kerry. He turned to Bex. ‘Shall I take Superman out for an hour for you? I’ll get him an ice-cream or something.’
‘Oh, would you?’ said Bex. ‘That would be great. I’ve got a load of nappies to wash out.’
‘Definitely my cue to leave,’ said Kerry.
‘You can leave Skip here,’ said Bex. ‘He’s no trouble. Won’t be much fun for him sat outside the café.’
‘Okay, thanks,’ said Kerry. ‘Hey! Superman! Do you want to recharge your powers with a bowl of ice-cream?’
‘Ice-cream! Ice-cream! Yes. Ice-cream!’ Storm ran over to Kerry and danced around his feet.
‘That’s a yes, then.’ Kerry gave Bex a peck on the cheek and Joe a pat on the shoulder. ‘Catch you later, cuz.’ As he headed out of the garden, holding Storm’s hand, he called back over his shoulder. ‘You may want to turn the fuel supply on!’
He laughed out loud as he heard Joe curse at him. By the time Kerry stepped out onto Corkscrew Lane, he heard the mower’s engine rumble into life.
Erin placed the bowl of ice-cream, vanilla with strawberry sauce, on the table in front of Storm. ‘So, Storm and Breeze,’ she said. ‘They’re unusual names. A bit like yours and Joe’s.’
‘Blame our mums for that. They collaborated,’ said Kerry with a smile. ‘As for this generation of Wrights, Bex says she named them after her pregnancies. A difficult first pregnancy and an easy second one. Plus the fact Bex is into all that being-at-one-with-nature business.’
‘I remember she was a bit hippy looking when we were younger.’
‘She’s very environmentally friendly, loves nature, makes her own bread and keeps chickens. Very bohemian. You get the picture.’
‘Hugs trees? Protests against urban development and smokes roll-ups?’ suggested Erin.
‘Something like that,’ replied Kerry, smiling.
‘She was a year below me at school,’ said Erin. ‘She’s married to Joe? Neither of them left the village, then.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. I like living here, actually. There’s a real sense of community. Everyone’s really friendly.’
‘Hmm, nosey, you mean.’
‘You’re really not a fan of Rossway, are you?’ said Kerry, aiming a spoon of ice-cream in the direction of Storm’s open mouth. It reminded him of the wildlife programmes where the birds came back with little grubs to give to the eager, open-mouthed chicks. ‘Why don’t you like it?’
Erin shrugged. ‘Just don’t. Anyway, I’d better get on. Do you want anything else?’
‘No, I’m good for now. I’ll have something later.’ He held her gaze for a moment, the little smile now a broad grin. He didn’t miss the small flush of colour to her cheeks before she turned away.
‘What you doing two weeks Sunday?’ The question brought Erin to a halt.
She turned to face him. ‘Why?’
‘Bex and Joe are having a barbecue. Didn’t know if you fancied coming. You could catch up with Bex, maybe. It’s all very casual and low key.’
‘I’ll be busy. I’ve got something on.’
Kerry raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? You’ve got something to do in Rossway.’ He could tell she was being evasive. It intrigued him. ‘Come on, you never know, you might enjoy yourself. Or is it that you don’t want to associate with the locals?’ He gave a wink to show he wasn’t being totally serious.
‘It’s not that.’
‘So…,’ prompted Kerry. ‘You going to enlighten me?’
‘I hardly know you, for a start.’
Kerry let out a small burst of laughter. She dipped her head but he could see the smile on her face.
‘Okay. I’m twenty-six. My star sign is Aries. My favourite food is Indian. I like rock music and ride a motorbike. I love the sea and hate the gym.’ He rattled the facts off like a machine gun in rapid-fire mode. ‘Oh, and I was kicked out of the Scouts for setting fire to a tent…by accident, of course. What more do you need to know? Come on, say yes.’
‘Normally, I would say yes,’ said Erin.
‘Just say it, then,’ said Kerry. ‘It’s not hard. Y. E. S. Yes. Go on, give it a try.’
‘I have a visitor coming. From England,’ said Erin. The smile slipped from her face. ‘My boyfriend.’
