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Ivan Filton had retired early ‘I have been working a lot on my garden,’ declared Ivan Filton ‘This is why you texted?’ asked Graham Donne   ‘What do you think of it?’   ‘I like it,’ answered Graham ‘It is spectacular’   Ivan felt an overwhelming pride in his work, the first such feeling he’d had for a long while Not, I think, since Ivan Filton was young, when he had been very good at intricate crayon drawings, had he felt this proud The secret to the garden was mathematics; he had followed certain number patterns to order his garden in a simple and pleasing way He had cut beds and planted, laid lawn, placed a bench and arbour, rooted a tree, and built a curve of path Then he’d put up fencing, weaved vines, cornered off a vegetable patch with a low bush, positioned ornaments, directed two separate light sources, hooked up a fountain, populated a pond, and husbanded a chicken coop Yes, it was a fantastic garden   ***   The following day Graham arrived again, this time unannounced, with his girlfriend Lea, who was twenty years younger than Ivan and Graham ‘I wanted to show Lea your garden,’ said Graham   And so Ivan Filton showed her the garden and Lea said it was wonderful, and Graham said it was wonderful again, and then Lea asked if she could stay and read a book on the bench next to the arbour Ivan said yes, and Graham went and Lea stayed and read She read Saturday, which is by Ian McEwan Lea’s face was quite animated as she read, her expression changing and reacting as if she were watching a film Ivan worked quietly on his garden so as not to disturb her, choosing only those tasks that did not make much noise He pruned a little, watered a little To impress Lea, Ivan drove to Homebase and bought three pots of outdoor paint: a green called Woodland Grove, a red called Roman Red, and a yellow called Zint Yellow Zint is not a word, but it does sound good for a yellow and this probably tipped