Alan reads aloud the text relaying Ken’s funeral plans. The more he reads, the less colour adorns Jackie’s face.
“You didn’t know,” he says.
“Stroke. Last Saturday.”
She pictures Ken’s smile peering up from the cabbages, hand raised in acknowledgment. “But I saw him at the allotment. Yesterday.”
Anna Sanderson writes about the world as she sees it (with the odd twist and turn). You can follow her story on Twitter at @annasanderson86.