If there was one thing years of working for Torchwood had taught Ianto, it was that, like all living things, plants weren’t always as innocent or harmless as they looked. There was the one Owen had given his as a housewarming gift, which had fed on him every night, and the one that had practically taken over the entire Hub, somehow feeding on electricity straight from the sockets, and the innocuous little shoots Jack had mistaken for cress and eaten, turning himself into a plant…

Even ordinary earth plants could be hazardous to one’s health. Stinging nettles did as advertised, sticky weed stuck to everything and scraped bare skin raw, brambles were savage monsters, and poison ivy was something to be avoided at all costs.

Knowing what he knew about the danger plants posed to innocent human beings, anyone could have been excused for thinking Ianto would want nothing to do with them, and yet he happily pottered about in his garden, even had a few indoor plants, and was endeavouring to grow a few vegetables, since Jack had insisted that would be possible even in the small garden behind the end of terrace house they now shared.

There was a row of tomato plants in growbags positioned in a sunny yet sheltered spot against the wall, with marigolds planted around and amongst them. Runner beans were beginning to twine their way up canes a little further along, two large tubs, one each side of the back door, held cucumber plants, and a small, raised vegetable bed held carrots, lettuce, broccoli, and what would hopefully be cauliflowers, if they survived. Ianto had some doubts about those. There was even rhubarb growing down by the compost heap. Now, if they could just get the strawberry tub planted up…

“We’re going to have so much fresh fruit and veg this year!” Jack said eagerly, as he helped poke the strawberry plants through the holes in the sides of the tub, filling it up with compost level by level.

Ianto snorted. “If everything doesn’t get eaten by birds, slugs, snails, caterpillars, and whatever other hungry creatures happen to come along and help themselves.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist!”

“Have you forgotten what happened to the gooseberries last year? All the time I spent picking the gooseberry sawfly larvae off the leaves, then just when the berries were almost ripe, they vanished overnight. Not a trace to be found!”

“Pigeons,” Jack said. “Must’ve been. There’s plenty of them around. We’ll just put netting over the bushes this year, and over the strawberries. That’ll keep them safe!”

“It’ll make dealing with the sawfly larvae more difficult though. And slugs and snails will still be able to feast on the fruits.”

“We won’t put the netting over the bushes until the gooseberries are close to being ready for picking. I know you’re new to all of this, but I’m not. Everyone was growing their own during the wars. They had to, what with rationing.”

“I know, you’ve told me all the stories.”

“Not all of them.” Jack grinned. “You’ll be glad we got the big freezer once you see how much we’re getting from the garden.”

“I don’t think you can freeze lettuce.”

“That’s for salads, and as a decoy. We can eat what the slugs and snails don’t ruin. I might even plant potatoes in that old bin. Sink it into the ground, shove a potato or two in it, just keep earthing it up as it grows… You’d be surprised how many potatoes you can get that way.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ianto poked the last strawberry plant through its hole, marvelling at what a space-saving idea the tubs were.

“And the leeks among the flowering plants should do well too. Just think, before too long we’ll be making our own leek and potato soup!”

“That’s all assuming we find time to water everything, and do the weeding, and everything else required for getting a good crop. I’ve been reading up on vegetable growing; you can’t just stick things in the ground, leave them, and hope for the best! There’s a lot of work involved.”

“And we’ll do it. I can always do some watering and weeding at night, while you’re asleep.”

“I can just imagine you gardening by torchlight. What will the neighbours think?”

“They already think we’re strange,” Jack pointed out. “A bit of nocturnal gardening won’t change their opinions.”

“I suppose so.”

Then again, if they succeeded in growing enough, maybe they could bribe the neighbours with fresh produce to keep them from calling the police.


The End