MRS RUSTBRIDGER AND THE CLEMATIS

It’s raining - and the shed’s leaking. (Our ‘Rambling Rector Rose’ thorns have gouged into its roof.)

I’ve cut the box bushes. By autumn, the sideways branches will meet. Then, they will be a hedge.

Mrs Rustbridger asked what the clematis is called.

“Clematis armandii.”

She was suspicious because it’s an evergreen.

“There’s no such thing as an evergreen clematis.”

(Why would I deceive her?)

I looked at it - at the way it has draped itself over the wall, at the clusters of pinky-browny buds which are already opening into white-star-flowers. I thought of the bikers from over the road who climbed on the wall last autumn and broke it and knocked it out of shape - which means I’ll have to cut it back when the flowers are gone and there won’t be so many next year.

I looked at Mrs Rustbridger.

“Yes there is.”

* * * * *

Ming’s brought his space-ship into the house. He’s worried it’ll rust in the shed.

I’m disconcerted because he’s put two nonexistent children on the school waiting list. When I answered the phone and someone in the school office asked for their names and dates of birth, I didn’t know what to say.

Ming says he’ll go back tomorrow and explain.

P.S. The hollyhock is doing fine.

P.P.S. So is the lemon balm.

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For Tomorrow