The Greenhouse – Part 2: Tomatoes

Sunday was bright and cold. Noor had set out forty seedling trays on the long bench, a bag of compost, two pairs of gloves and a flask of tea. Eline arrived at ten with her thyme in a paper cup and a look of terrified determination.

"Hold the stem here," said Noor, showing her. "Never by the leaves. Now press the soil down. Gently. Like you are tucking in a child."

Eline pressed. The soil gave, and the little tomato seedling stood up straight.

"It is standing," she said, delighted.

"You made it stand."

"I did a very small thing."

"Small things are the whole of gardening," said Noor, and watched her hands.

They planted until the sun was high. Noor taught her the names: Gardeners' Delight, Black Krim, a yellow pear tomato that had once belonged to her grandmother. Eline repeated them under her breath, like a translator learning a new language.

At noon they sat on upturned crates, drinking tea and eating the bread Eline had brought. The greenhouse was warm and quiet, rain beginning to tick on the glass.

"Can I ask you something?" said Eline.

"Yes."

"Why did you never let anyone up here? The neighbours say you are very private."

Noor turned her cup in her hands. "Because I was afraid it would stop being mine," she said. "I built it after my relationship ended. It was the first thing I made that no one else had touched."

"And now?"

"Now there is a woman in a yellow raincoat who talks to thyme," said Noor, smiling. "It is a very good change."

Eline's cheeks flushed. She set her cup down on the bench.

"Can I ask you something else?" she said.

"Yes."

"Would you let me kiss you? Here, among the tomatoes, with the rain on the glass?"

Noor's heart gave a quick, glad jump. "Yes," she said. "And if I say stop, you have to water the basil from the bottom."

"That is a terrible punishment," said Eline, and stepped closer.

She kissed her gently, her gloved hand rising to Noor's cheek, the smell of earth and tea warm between them. Noor kissed her back, slow and certain, her fingers curling into the yellow raincoat. The rain drummed softly on the roof, and the seedlings stood in their rows like a small, patient audience.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Noor.

"Green," said Eline. "Very green. Show me the cucumbers."

"They are not planted yet," said Noor.

"Then we will plant them together," said Eline, and took her hand.

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