Tamara Ivanova discovered that her husband was seeing their allotment neighbour when she went round to borrow some salt for pickling cucumbers.

I found out about Margarets affair with our neighbour next door at the allotment when I popped over to borrow some salt for pickling cucumbers. The door swung open, and there stood my Michaelin his old checked pants and undershirt.

Mike? was all I managed to gasp.

He went white, then red, then white again.

Molly… I can explain…

Behind him appeared Linda, our widowed neighbour for as long as I can remember. She was wrapped in a dressing gownclearly flung over bare skin.

Michael, whos at the door? she called, spotting me. Oh…

The three of us just stood gaping at one another. Then I spun round and headed for the gate, fast, nearly at a run.

Molly! Wait! Michael dashed out after me, forgetting he was still in his vest and pants.

The whole lane, with its dozen allotment plots, poured out for the show.

Michael Johnson, well-respected man, head of the allotment association, charging down the lane after his wife with nothing on but his undies.

Well, thats the entertainment for us this weekend, commented George from the next plot.

I burst into the bungalow and locked myself in. Michael hammered at the door.

Molly, please open! Let me explain!

How many years? I shouted back.

What?

How many years has this been going on?

He fell silent, then mumbled:

Eighteen.

I slid down to the floor. Eighteen years. Thats exactly how old our younger son, Ben, had just turned.

I heard the gate creak and in walked Lindanow fully dressed, hair brushed.

Molly, come out. We need to talk.

Go away, you snake.

Molly, come onwere adults, lets not lose our heads.

I steadied myself, walked out, and sat on the step. Linda sat beside me. Michael hovered nervously nearby.

Eighteen years, I managed. How could you?

You remember your bad back, when you were in hospital for two months? Linda offered.

I did remember. Operation, endless recovery. Michael dried out the cucumbers, ruined the tomatoes. Id wondered how he coped.

I helped him with the garden, with cooking. One thing led to another…

It just happened, Michael muttered.

Eighteen years! I sprang up. Youve made a fool of me for eighteen years!

No one thought you a fool, Linda retorted, getting up as well. You had your life, we had ours.

Ours? But hes my husband! The father of my children!

And? Has he stopped being a father? Are the children hungry? Is the plot going wild?

I was ready to slap her, but Michael grabbed my hand.

Molly, dont.

Dont touch me!

I shook him off and stormed back inside. By now a crowd had gathered. News here travels at the speed of sound.

Clear off! Michael bellowed. Shows over!

But no one budged. They kept gossiping, nosing in. Pauline from number three plot cackled:

I always knew it! Seen the two of them together!

Liar, her husband shouted back. Youre blind as a bat!

Takes one to know one! I see everything!

That evening, I sat out on the veranda. Michael paced circles in the garden.

Molly, say something, wont you?

Whats there to say? Divorce?

Divorce? At our age? Were both sixty!

So what? You cant split up after sixty?

Oh, come off it, Molly. Weve been married forty years!

And out of those, youve spent eighteen with Linda.

I lived with you! Just… sometimes I went to see her.

Sometimes?

Well… twice a week.

Twice a week for eighteen years isnt sometimes, Michael. Thats a full-blown schedule.

He sat down opposite me.

Molly, try to see it. I love you. But Linda… shes different.

Better?

Not better. Just different. With you its home, family, life. With her… I get to forget about all of that for a bit.

Thats rich! I’d like a break, tooonly Im busy making pickles!

Exactly! Youre always busy! Cucumbers, tomatoes, jamalways something! Sometimes I want to just sit, have a drink and talk.

And you cant talk to me?

With you its the children, the grandkids, the crops. With her, its about life, books.

She reads? I was surprised.

I only knew Linda as a simple country woman.

She does. She loves poetry. Classics.

I nearly laughed. Michael and classics.

So what now?

I dont know. Its up to you.

Me? And you?

I… Molly, Im sixty-two. What decisions are left? All I want is peace in my old age.

With whom? Me or her?

He said nothing. Then, quietly:

Cant I have both?

I grabbed the first thing to handit was a jar of pickles. I threw it at him. Missed. The jar shattered against the wall.

Get out!

And out he went, to Linda, of course.

That night I couldnt sleep. Forty years together. Two sons, grandkids. The plot we built from nothing.

And eighteen years of lies.

Although… was it really a lie? Hed never promised eternal fidelity. Never sworn endless love. He just lived. With me, and with Linda.

Next morning, Jane from plot five dropped by with cake.

Molly, hang in there.

Thanks, Jane.

If you want, my husband could give Mike a good hiding.

No need. Were not in infant school.

So… what will you do?

Nothing for now.

Not me. Id have kicked him out! Cheat!

Jane, isnt your husband always over at Paulines on number three?

Jane turned scarlet.

What? Nonsense!

Ive seen them in the raspberry patch.

Thats… nothing!

What then?

They were discussing the beds!

While cuddling?

Jane left, slamming the gate.

By lunchtime, George arrived.

Mrs Johnson… need the plot digging over? Want help?

Thanks, but no.

Only, Michael asked me to sayhes coming by this evening to collect his things.

What things? His pants?

Well… I dont know. He just asked.

Message received. Thank you.

George shuffled off.

In the evening, Michael really did comewith his tail between his legs.

Ill fetch my things.

Do that.

He went inside. I followed.

Mike, why Linda? Whats so special about her?

He stopped.

I dont know. Its just… easy with her.

And its hard with me?

Not hard… but you always know best. How to salt cucumbers, plant potatoes, what to get the grandchildren. She never knows. She asks me.

Makes you feel clever?

More… needed.

I sat on the bed.

Well, Mike, I dont know everything either. I dont know how to carry on after my husbands been seeing the neighbour for eighteen years.

Molly…

I dont know how to look at the boys, tell the grandkids why Grandpa lives next door.

Best not say anything!

Someone has to. Bens coming tomorrow with the family. What do I tell them?

Say weve had a row.

Michael sat beside me.

Molly, lets just forget it ever happened.

Pretend? With Linda just over the fence, you seeing her every day?

Then what do you want?

I stood by the window. Through the fence I could see Linda watering her vegetablessame dressing gown.

You know what? Live wherever you want. But you can explain it to the grandchildren yourself.

Molly!

And this year you can do the pickling yourself.

I dont know how!

Ask Linda. Shes the cultured one. Shell work it out.

Michael took his bag and went. The entire lane watched.

That night I heard someone stumbling about outside. I crept out. There was Michael, pottering near the tomatoes.

What on earth are you doing?

Checking the tomatoes. Its going to be hot tomorrow. Need to open the greenhouse.

Thought youd gone.

I have. But the tomatoes are mine! I grew them!

So?

So I care!

He fussed with the greenhouse, then slipped back through the fence.

Next morning, Ben arrived with his family.

Mum, wheres Dad?

Over at Lindas.

Visiting?

He lives there now.

Ben sat down, stunned.

What?

I explained it all, as simply as possible.

Eighteen years?! Mum, does that mean… when Harry was born, they…?

Yes.

Ben stormed off to Lindas. I heard shouting, a door slamming. He came back.

Dad says he loves both of you.

Lucky me.

Mum, seriously. Maybe he does?

Ben, could you? Love two women?

Not me. But Im not Dad. Hes… special, I suppose.

Thats one word for it.

Our grandson came running in.

Gran, why does Grandpa live with Auntie Linda?

Hes helping her with her vegetable patch, I replied.

Ben burst out laughing.

Mum, only you…

That night, there was noise again. Michael was out watering the beds.

Mike, are you mad?

Were in a dry spell! Everythingll wither!

Go water your new familys plot!

Lindas got her own!

Then stick to it!

But I care about this one, too!

I grabbed the hose.

Here, let me help. Or youll be here till midday.

We watered together, not saying a word. Then sat side by side on a bench.

Mike, tell me honestlywho do you love more?

Molly, what sort of question is that?

An honest one.

Michael thought.

Both of you. But differently.

How do you mean?

Youre like my right handfamiliar, reliable. I cant do without you. Shes like a holidayrare, but a treat.

And if I vanished?

Dont say that!

Well if I did, would you marry her?

Doubt it. If I did, shed become the right hand, and the holidays would be over.

So you need us both?

Looks like it.

We sat watching the stars.

Mike, maybe I need a holiday, too?

Michael jumped.

What? Holiday?

Another man. George offered to help out.

George!? Ill

What will you do? You live with Linda.

Its different!

How?

Molly, youre not like that!

How do you know? Maybe I read classics, too.

You dont.

Maybe I will start.

Michael stood up.

Seriously, Molly, what do you want?

What did I want? For things to go back to how they were? Impossible now.

I want peace. To pickle my cucumbers. To look after the grandchildren.

And?

Thats all. Live wherever you like.

Really?

Yes, but if you want to see Linda, go. If you want to stay here, thats fine. Just dont lie anymore.

And if George comes round?

He wont. Hes got Natalie over on plot nine.

How do you know?

Mike, Im not blind. I just kept quiet. Like everyone does.

Next morning, Michael came back with his bag.

Molly, can I really come back?

Beds in the shed. Inflate the air mattress, youll manage.

He left his bag and fetched the mattress.

The neighbours peered out, whispering. Linda watered her cucumbers, pretending nothing was happening.

Ben came onto the porch.

Mum, Dads back?

Hes blowing up the air bed in the shed.

Are you a saint? Forgave him?

Not a saint, just a fool. Its too late for changes.

A week later, Michael moved from the shed back into the house. A month later, I stopped caring that twice a week he popped over to the neighbour. After a year, no one in the lane even remembered the whole saga.

Other scandals cropped up. Pauline from plot three took up with Peter from plot five, while Jane moved in with Paulines husband.

I kept making my jars of pickles. Michael built a new greenhouse. Linda sat behind the fence reading novels.

Really, what is love? To spend forty years together, raise children, build a home, plant a garden.

And come to terms with the fact that nothings ever perfect. Not even love.

Especially not love.