The smell of smoke hanging on the evening breeze was not unusual at this time of year. I glanced in the direction of the wafting smoke and realised it was coming from the allotments on the far side of the village. There had been a healthy rivalry been Higher and Lower hailing until recently. A number of those living in Higher had taken it into their heads that they would teach us Lower lads a lesson and that they would win everything at this year’s show. It had started as mere banter after a few jars in the Black Bull but as the days drew closer to the show it all began to turn nasty.

‘George! Quick man someone’s set Ned’s shed on fire,’ shouted Tony as he ran down the lane in the direction of the allotments.

I grabbed my coat and ran after him. By the time I reached the holdings several men were trying in vain to put the fire out. Ned could be seen holding his head in his hands and weeping like a baby.

‘George quick over here,’ shouted Tom ‘look at those bastards on the ridge.’

Several men and boys were waving their fists in triumph. I ran towards them with no real plan when I reached them but my blood was up. As we narrowed the gap between them they noticed our approach and began jeering us from their vantage point.

I stopped and shouted at Sam Bowler, ‘Why Sam? Why did you have to pick on old Ned?’

‘Well if it isn’t George Higgins. What’s it to you?’ he laughed.

‘Ned’s a friend, he doesn’t deserve this. He’s lived his entire life in Lower Hailing he’s not an incomer like you and your followers.’

‘How dare you! I’ve lived here twenty years,’ roared Sam.

‘Yes, but you’ll never be one of us.’ I knew I had hit home.

‘Come on lads we’ve seen enough Ned will have little to show tomorrow.’ They turned back to Higher Hailing laughing.

‘What do we do now George?’ asked Tom.

‘Perhaps we need to teach them a lesson.’

‘You mean burn their allotments?’

‘Nothing like that; listen meet me after midnight outside the pub.’

When George and Tom arrived back to Lower Hailing the fire was out and someone had taken Ned home. A number of men had volunteered to keep watch on the allotments. There were some prize vegetables that were sure to pick up a few prizes at the show. George told Tom to spread the word and then returned back home and to his garden shed.


Dawn revealed the true extent of the damage to Ned’s allotment ; a burnt the shed, trampled marrow patch and all the canes broken on the runner beans. Ned looked at the devastation before him and wondered why he had been targeted.

‘George this is a sad day indeed,’ muttered Ned.

‘Cheer up old man, come with me.’ I took Ned up the road to Higher Hailing as we reached the ridge in the road we looked down on their allotments. A crowd had gathered near on plot. ‘Oh dear Ned seems somebody has sprayed the Higher allotments with some sort of quick reacting weed killer and has effected most of the produce belonging to Sam Bowler now I wonder who would do a thing like that,’ I said tapping the side of my nose.

It was a priceless moment as the air filled with an infectious chuckle followed by a roar of laughter from the lungs of old Ned.