The Allotment – Part 2: Harvest Tea
Mature & Silver·EN·2 min read·Published 2026-11-07, updated 2026-11-07·Part 2 of 2
Frank's house was a terraced brick cottage a mile from the allotments, with a tidy front garden and a hallway lined with tools. Inside it was warm and plain, smelling of wood glue and soup. A log fire burned in the front room. A bookshelf sat in one corner, in dovetail joints so neat they looked drawn on.
"You made that?" said Maureen.
"Thirty years ago. For my wife." He took her coat gently. "She'd have liked you, I think. She hated cabbages."
Maureen laughed, surprised into it. They ate soup and bread at the kitchen table, then sat by the fire with a pot of tea. The rain pattered against the window. Her husband's name came up, and Frank's wife's, and they let those names sit between them without hurry.
"I thought I'd put all this away," Maureen said. "This part."
"I thought so too." Frank studied his hands. "And then a woman planted her cabbages too close together."
She laughed and wiped her eyes. "Frank."
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to kiss me. If you'd like to."
"I would like to," he said, hoarsely. "More than I can say."
It was a slow, careful, wonderful kiss, one that tasted of tea and woodsmoke. Frank's workman's hand rested on her cheek as if she might be fragile. She wasn't, and she pulled him closer. They sat that way for a long time, noses cold, fire warm.
"There's a spare room," he said finally. "And there's my room. Either would be fine. I'm in no hurry."
"Your room," said Maureen, softly. "If you're sure."
"Completely."
They climbed the narrow stairs hand in hand, laughing at the creaks. The bedroom was small and plain, with a quilt in faded blue. They undressed with care and a lot of humour, comparing aches and scars, then lay together under the quilt while the rain streamed down the window. Slow, kind, unhurried, a conversation in touch and breath, with plenty of pauses to smile.
In the morning the sky had cleared. At the allotment, dew sparkled on the cabbages.
"They're too close together," said Frank, standing with his arm around her.
"I know," said Maureen. "I like them that way."
More mature romance stories: Autumn in Quebec · The Quilting Circle · The Silver Ballroom
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