Passing On
“‘About your patch of waste ground.’Edward and Helen gazed at him without expression, a practised process. They were all three standing in the lane outside Greystones. Ron had pounced from his car, screeching to a halt ten yards ahead of them. He had opened with a solicitous enquiry as to whether young Gary was giving satisfaction.‘I mean,’ he continued, ‘it’s a bit of an albatross, isn’t it? The upkeep and that. What I was thinking was . .‘We don’t keep it up,’ said Edward. ‘It keeps itself up....’Ron shook his head censoriously. ‘That’s just the point, Mr Glover, if I may say so. There’s a lot of work needs doing in there. You’ve got dead and diseased trees need felling, you’ve got bramble and stuff needs clearing out. It’s not healthy, the way it is. But with a bit of money spent you could have a nice little spinney there — be pretty in the spring. You could do a bit of landscape planting, azaleas and rhododendrons and that, camellias maybe — you know, like your National Trust sort of place.’‘Those things don’t grow on limestone soil,’ said Helen.Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again.MoreLess
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