Page 47 of Second Song

“They went for a surf. Daddy sent a picture.”

That accounts for a similar photo I woke up to, one of dawn breaking between twin boulders with a pretty beach beyond it. I’m still disappointed not to see Liam the next time work boots clump past. I lurch up, spilling more peas which Maisie consoles me over.

“Don’t worry. I spilled my Coco Pops at breakfast.” She also tells me how her daddy would have let her suck them up with Henry the Hoover, only she’s staying with her mummy this week. “Because Daddy’s so busy.” She’s matter-of-fact, a real builder’s daughter. “Someone’s got to fill in all the holes.”

“In what?”

“A wobbly wall.” She shows me a wobbly tooth next, speaking around the finger in her mouth. This is garbled, but I think she says, “Then when it’s strong enough to hold up the ceiling, his friend can do his job.” She’s matter-of-fact about this too. “Daddy said he won’t get to surf with him after that.”

Because Liam will be gone.

Maisie gets back to her original challenge, spooning up more peas, but I can’t help wishing I recorded all of those his friend comments. I’d play them back to Liam when I do get more than a few moments with him.

I know he’s got friends already. Ones that haven’t only left a hole in his own wall. He’s cratered without them. That’s what I keep coming back to after a shared garden picnic where he kept lapsing into silence and after a walk across moorland where mentioning his old team led to another pool of quiet deep enough to fill that quarry.

He misses them.

And I almost miss that Maisie is done. She rattles her shaker, one that I’ll add to a box of resources these children are helping me to fill. It still isn’t anywhere as full as Mum’s was, but if any of the children are in the mood to make some noise once my time here is over, they’ll have more tools to do it.

But what if I did what it took to stay here?

I’ve leafed through that trauma workbook Luke left with me. Read and re-read the pages I tore from a notepad detailing my life path. It’s on my bedside table, still folded and unfinished.

I’d just need to fill that gap.

Charles keeps me too busy to fret about it.

“I’m dying to know the plan for all the jam jars, washing-up bowls, and buckets.” He eyes the stack I’ve scavenged.

“Drumming.” I peer around. “Or they could be if we had more drumsticks.” I glance up at other classroom windows. “I know I’ve been making a real racket. I’ll stop if you think I’m being too noisy with the children.”

“No such thing. We’ll just pick our moment.” He points to the tree line. “Or change our location. Luke’s interviewing someone to manage the woodland. Maybe we’ll go along to bang and crash under the trees to show him what he’s in for.”

For now, Charles improvises, gathering muddy spoons he rinses under an outside tap. “Here you go. Pop these in your box of tricks, Mr. Worried. Although there’s no need to be. Worried, I mean. Not about making noise or making suggestions. I’m loving it. So are the children, so let’s have even more volume and creativity out here after lunch, only with less frowning.”

“I’m not frowning.”

Charles has wet hands. They’re cool on my forehead where he sketches wiggles. Frown lines. I rub that dampness away and glance up where clouds have slowly and steadily gathered. “What if it rains?”

“Worry, worry, worry,” he mutters before adding, “Then we’ll pop our coats on.” He glances up too. “A bit of rain would actually be fabulous. Especially for Maisie and Asa.”

“Because?”

“Because water transforms outdoor learning. Soaks children with extra options.” He crouches by the sandpit. “Look. Tell me, what do you see right here?” He points down to where he’s used the end of a spoon to do some sketching.

“In the sand?” Dry grains have flooded in to fill his furrows. Whatever he drew is as much a mystery as Liam’s doodles on my stomach. “Uh…”

“Don’t worry about being wrong,” he urges, echoing what I tell Teo whenever we only have just a drum kit, guitar, or keyboard between us. Today, there are only inches between me and Charles, no way to miss how much he means this. “Here’s the magic of adding a little water. It means getting a do-over. A second chance to be successful.”

He uses a watering can to dampen the sand until it darkens. The next time he draws, the sand holds, and I see that he’s outlined a love heart. Charles writes a C inside it along with a plus symbol. The H he draws next for his husband is no surprise, nor are the lightning bolts he zigzags into the sand in a reminder—not of the ones he added to Hadi’s stormy purple chalk line, but of our very first lightning could strike twice here conversation.

He draws a second heart, this time writing an M inside it, murmuring something more unexpected. “Maisie needs plenty of those chances. She’s starting to read, but when it comes to writing…” He shakes his head. “And she’s starting to notice that all the others can shape their letters quite neatly, that their grip is increasingly secure while hers isn’t. It would be easy for her to compare herself to their progress in…” He scans the outdoor classroom, his gaze landing on Hadi. “In the same way he might feel sad at seeing everyone else crossing all of our bridges with no problem.” The sun returns and Charles is brighter. “But we have plenty of tools to help both of them.”

“Like?” I don’t know what I’m expecting. It isn’t for Charles to waggle that watering can at me.

“Give Maisie water, sand, and a stick, and she gets to make the same shapes as everyone else with no worrying about keeping between the lines on paper. She still gets to feel successful.” He adds the letter T to the heart he’s drawn for her. “And that’s what Teo spends a lot of time doing with her out here when he visits, giving her chances to feel good about herself over and over, while she returns the favour for him. And as for Hadi…”

He finds a second plank that I help him lift over the sandpit to make his narrow bridge much wider. “We’ll give him chances to practise making crossings with more chances of success and less fear, like this.” He kneels on those planks over the sand and draws a third love heart. This time, he sketches an R.

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