He was silent for a moment.
“They want to build over them.”
“We won’t let them.” insisted Ruth, taking his hand and looking up at him.
“We can fight them.” joined in Suzannah. “You always say that the power is with the people, Grandpa.”
He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose,
“Yes.” he said, “It is.”
“We can have a petition.” said Suzannah.
“If my school had an allotment as well as an environment corner we
could grow things and then they wouldn’t build on it because it was the children’s.” suggested Ruth. “And we could all eat the food.” she added thoughtfully.
Ivan looked at the view from the allotments, over the tree tops and to the hills beyond. He thought about all the hours spent enriching the soil with compost and leaves.
“It’s too beautiful to lose.” he said. “And too much work has gone into keeping the soil fertile. We’ll do everything we can to keep the allotments for people now and in the future, and yours are excellent ideas.”
He gave them both a hug.
“Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m right, but when ordinary people have
something special, that they work hard at and take care of, someone always seems to come along and tries to take it away from them on the pretext that they’re doing it to improve things. Really, all they’re bothered about is making money out of it. Even if you can’t see who it is, they’re always there.” He smiled wryly. “It’s power or money, but it’s usually money.” He added.
“Let’s hope that when you are grandmothers you can bring your
grandchildren here and show them the view and tell them how you won the battle of the allotments.”
“And dance!” said Ruth.
“And dance!” said Ivan.
Who cares about….
Where The Fox Goes © J.R.Birch 2004