Tamara Evans discovered her husband was having an affair with their next-door neighbour at the allotment when she popped round to borrow some salt for pickling cucumbers.

So, you wouldn’t believe what Margaret Jane found out. She learned her husband was seeing the lady next door at their allotment, and get thisit happened all because she popped over to borrow some salt for pickling her cucumbers.

Door swings open and there’s George, her George, standing there in nothing but his boxers and a vest.

George? was all she could get out.

He went white, then red, then white again.

Maggie I can explain

Behind him, out steps Gladys, their widowed neighbour from a few plots down, wrapped in a dressing gown that anyone could tell was hastily thrown on.

George, whos at the door? she called out, and then spotted Margaret. Oh

All three of them just sort of froze, staring at each other. Margaret turned heel and marched back to her gatepractically jogging.

Maggie! Wait! George ran after her, completely forgetting he was half-naked.

Its a small allotment lane, only twelve plots. News travels fast. Out come all the nosy neighbours to spectate.

Theres George Smith, chairman of the gardening association, tearing down the lane in his undies after his wife.

Better than telly, muttered Mike from plot three.

Margaret slammed the door and locked herself inside. George was banging and pleading at the door.

Maggie, let me in! Let me explain!

How long? she shouted through the wood.

What?

How many years have you been seeing her?

Silence. Then, softly: Eighteen.

Margaret slid down onto the floor in shock. Eighteen years. Thats how old her youngest son, Simon, had just turned.

The gate creaked and in came Gladys. Shed had time to brush her hair and put some clothes on.

Margaret, come out. We need to talk.

Get lost, you snake! Margaret shouted back.

Oh, come on, Margaret. Were adults. No need for all this drama.

Margaret took a deep breath and stepped outside, sitting on the front step. Gladys sat down, too. George hovered, all sheepish.

Eighteen years, Margaret said. How did this even happen?

Remember when you did your back in? Spent two months recovering in hospital?

Margaret remembered. The operation, a slow recovery, the way George nearly killed off the veg patch without her. Shed wondered how hed survived.

I helped him with the allotment, with the cooking. And well, one thing led to another, Gladys continued.

It just happened, George muttered.

Eighteen years! Margaret stood up. Youve made a fool of me for eighteen years!

No one thinks youre a fool, Gladys stood, too. You lived your life. We lived ours.

Ours?! Hes my husband! The father of my children!

So what? He never stopped being those things. The kids are fed, the house is cared for, the allotment is thriving.

Margaret raised her arm to slap, but George caught it.

Maggie, dont.

Dont touch me!

She shook him off and stormed back inside. A crowd was gathering now, the whole lane a-buzz. Thats all it takes for a bit of afternoon entertainment.

Go home! George bellowed. Shows over!

No one moved. Lucy from plot eight even piped up, Knew it! Caught them together once!

Rubbish, called her husband. You cant see a thing through those glasses.

Oh, shut up. I see enough!

Later that evening, Margaret sat out on the porch. George paced around, wringing his hands.

Maggie, say something.

Whats left to say? Divorce?

Divorce? Were sixty! You dont get divorced at sixty.

Why not? You think people stop at our age?

Maggie, dont be silly. Weve had forty years together!

And for eighteen of them, you had Gladys as well!

I lived with you! But sometimes I visited her.

Visited? Twice a week?

Alright, I suppose it’s more routine than ‘sometimes.’

He sat opposite her, looking desperate.

Maggie, I do love you. Gladysshes just… different.

Better?

Not better. Just different. With you, its the family, the house, real life. With her, its an escape from all of it.

Escape! Id like some escape, too, but Im always busy pickling cucumbers!

Exactly! Youre always workingpreserves, relishes, something on the go! Sometimes I just want to sit, have a drink, a chat.

And you can’t do that with me?

Sure, but our chats are about the kids, grandkids, what were planting. With her, we talk about life, about books and music.

She reads? Margaret was actually surprised. Shed always thought of Gladys as plain and country.

She does. Loves poetry. Adores the classics.

Margaret nearly laughed at the thought. George and classic literature.

So what now?

I dont know. Up to you, I suppose.

And you?

I mean Maggie, Im sixty-two. Theres not much left to decide. I just want some peace.

With whom? Me or Gladys?

He hesitated, then mumbled, Can I have both?

Margaret hurled the nearest thinga jar of cucumbersat him. Missed. It smashed against the wall.

Get out!

So George went. Moved straight in with Gladys, obviously.

That night Margaret couldnt sleep. Forty years together, two grown kids, grandkids, and an allotment built from scratch. Eighteen years of secrets. Was it really a lie? Hed never promised undying loyalty. He just lived. With Margaret and with Gladys.

In the morning, Jane from plot five arrived, pie in hand.

Margaret, hold your chin up, love.

Thanks, Jane.

If you want, Henry says hell go give George a black eye.

No need. Were not at school.

So what will you do?

Nothing. For now.

Id have kicked him out! Once a cheat

Jane, does Henry never go over to Lucy on plot three?

Jane blushed bright red.

What are you implying?

I saw them in the raspberry patch together.

Oh, that thats nothing!

What, then?

They were just talking weeds!

With his arm around her?

Jane huffed and left with a slam.

By midday, Mike dropped by.

Er, Mrs Smith, can I help at all? Turn the soil, do the greenhouse?

No, thank you, Mike.

OnlyGeorge wanted me to tell you hed be by later tonight to collect his things.

Which things? His old pants?

Er I didnt ask. Just passing the message.

Message delivered. Thanks.

Mike shuffled off.

That evening George did turn up. Sheepish as ever.

Just grabbing my things.

Go ahead.

She followed him in.

George, why Gladys? Whats so special?

He stopped.

I dont knowits just simpler with her.

And complicated with me?

Not complicated. But you always have the answerswhen to plant potatoes, how much pocket money for the grandkids, exactly how to brine gherkins. She doesnt know. She asks me everything.

So you feel clever?

More like useful.

Margaret plopped onto the bed.

George, I dont know everything either. I certainly dont know how to live with a husband whos been seeing the neighbour for eighteen years.

Maggie

I dont know how to face the kids, how to tell the grandkids Grandpas moved in with Gladys.

Dont tell them anything!

I have to. Alex is coming with his wife and little one tomorrow. What do I say?

Tell them we had a row.

George sat down next to her.

Maggie, cant we just forget this ever happened?

Youre joking. Gladys is just over the fence, you see her every day. Pretend nothings happened?

So what do you suggest?

Margaret went to the window. Over the fence, Gladys was watering her cucumbers. Same dressing gown as ever.

Live where you want. But youre explaining it to the grandkids, not me.

Maggie!

Oh, and you can do your own pickling this year.

I cant!

Gladys will help. Shes clever enough to readthe rest she can work out.

George left with a little bundle of his things. The neighbours watched, whispering, of course.

That night, again, Margaret heard noises. Someone was about. She went outsidethere was George by the greenhouse.

What do you think youre doing?

Checking the tomatoes. Its going to be hot, I need to open the windows.

I thought you moved out.

I did. But those are my tomatoes! I grew them myself!

So?

SoI cant just let them die!

He opened the greenhouse and then disappeared off over the fence.

The next morning, Alex arrived with his family.

Mum, wheres Dad?

With the lady next door.

Visiting?

Living there.

Alex looked dumbstruck.

What?

Margaret told him, straight and simple.

Eighteen years?! Mum, that meanswhen Simon was born, they were already?

Looks like it.

Alex stormed off to Gladys. Margaret could hear shouting, then the clatter of the front gate. He came back.

Dad says he loves you both.

Well, arent we lucky.

Mum, maybe he does. Maybe its possible?

Alex, could you do it? Love two women?

Me? No. But Im not Dad. Hes well, Dad.

Exactly.

Her grandson toddled up.

Gran, whys Grandad living with Auntie Gladys?

Hes helping with her veg patch, Margaret answered.

Alex burst out laughing.

Mum, youre priceless…

Again that night, she heard movement. She found George watering her plants.

George, are you not right in the head?

Its a drought! Everythingll die otherwise!

Your new familys waitinggo water their garden.

Gladys has her own patch!

So stick to that!

But I cant abandon this one.

Margaret grabbed the hose.

Go on then, Ill help, or youll never finish.

They watered in silence, before sitting down together on the bench.

George, if youre honest, who do you love more?

Margaret, what kind of question is that?

A normal one. Who?

He thought for a long time.

Both of you. But it’s different.

How?

Youre my right hand. Steady, dependable. Cant do without you. Shes a holiday. Seldom, but good fun.

If I was gone, would you marry her?

Blimey, dont say things like that!

No, really. Would you?

Probably not. Shed become my right hand and the holiday feeling would go.

So you want both of us?

Apparently so.

They sat watching the stars.

Maybe I should upgrade to a holiday myself, said Margaret.

George reacted like hed been zapped.

What?! With whoMike from next door?

Maybe I will. Hes offered to help.

Mike?! Ill George sputtered.

What will you do? You dont live here now.

Thats different!

How exactly?

Youre not the jealous type.

How do you know? For all you know, maybe I read the classics as well.

You dont.

I could start.

George stood up.

Maggie, lets be serious. What do you want?

She didnt know. Things couldnt go back. Not really.

I want to pickle my cucumbers in peace and look after my grandkids.

And?

And nothing. Live wherever you want.

You mean it?

If you want to stay with Gladys, fine. Come home if you want. Just dont lie anymore.

What if Mike shows up?

He wont. Hes sweet on Natalie from plot nine.

How do you know?

George, Im not blind. Just quiet. Like everyone.

The next morning, George arrived with his bags.

Are you sure I can come back?

Beds in the shed. Pump up the air mattress and make do.

He dropped his things and fetched the mattress.

Neighbours whispered, Gladys kept watering, acting oblivious.

Alex came out onto the porch.

Mum, is Dad back?

Hes inflating the mattress in the shed.

Are you a saint? Forgiven him already?

No, just stubborn. Its too late for saints.

Within a week, George had moved back into the house. Another month and Margaret hardly noticed him popping over to Gladys a couple of times a week. A year later, no one really remembered the whole drama.

Other scandals took their place. Lucy from plot three ran off with Peter from plot five, and Jane ended up moving in with Lucys husband. The usual.

Margaret was busy pickling cucumbers, George got busy building a new greenhouse, and Gladys was next door, reading a book.

Whats love, anyway? Maybe its forty years together, raising kids, building a home, planting a garden. And learning, in the end, that nothings perfect. Not even love.

Especially not love.