Page 35 of Love at First Sight

‘Fair enough,’ he concludes, not bothering to fill in the blanks. I’m actually quite desperate to know why he hasn’t done what he said he’d do. Alas, he’s gone mute. I tell him this is our stop and he rings the bell, and I refuse to remember how his hand felt in mine, my head on his chest, eyes closed, heart beating with happiness.

‘Hi!!!!’

Henry launches himself at me and I wrap my arms around him, lifting him up from the ground. Before I canask how his morning has been or explain why Ali isn’t here and I am instead, he says, all his words crashing into one: ‘Can-I-stay-for-craft-club-everyone-is-staying-for-craft-club-there’s-a-space-for-me-please!’

I shake my head comically as I put him back on the ground, our inside-joke way of sayingslow down. Henry laughs, straightens himself up and asks again, ‘Can I go to craft club, Jessie,please? Please, please, please!’ Then he puts his hands together in a begging motion and bats his eyelashes, because he knows it makes me laugh.

A teacher I don’t know the name of comes over and puts a hand on Henry’s shoulder, explaining, ‘We’re making things for the end-of-term show. Just for the next hour.’

I look to Cal, who shrugs, and so I relent. ‘I’ll be back in an hour, then,’ I say, reaching out to bop Henry’s nose with my pointing finger. ‘What’s the most important thing in the world?’ I ask him.

‘Be kind,’ Henry says.

‘And the second-most important thing in the world?’

‘Have fun. Can I go now?’

I smile. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Get gone.’

Back outside the school I’m about to tell Cal he doesn’t have to wait with me, but he speaks first.

‘You’re impressively good with him,’ he says. ‘With Henry.’

To be fair, I know I am, because I respect Henry and so Henry respects me. We get on, and I genuinely like him. He can tell – all kids can tell whether they’re liked or just tolerated, and kids who are liked by their grown-ups blossom.

‘Thank you,’ I say.

‘You let him be himself,’ Cal says. ‘I thought that the night with the Lego, when I first met him. I can see you nurturing loads of kids in the same way. I really hope you look at that funding form, get going on Stray Kids …’

Being mad, and punishing Cal, is tiring. I don’t want to be cold and angry. I want to be fun, and carefree, and just … happy. I don’t want to wear life heavily. I think of Leo’s cheeky wink and clear intentions. Cal is none of my business – what we had can stay in the past. I can put it down, stop carrying the weight of it if I want to. I think for my own sanity I should at least try.

‘I haven’t had time yet,’ I say. ‘I haven’t pulled the form out of my bag since you gave it to me. Although I’ve been aware it’s there, the proverbial heart beating under the floorboards.’

‘Because of Ali …?’ he says. Disloyally, I think.

‘I really don’t feel comfortable talking about Ali with you,’ I say, taking a seat on the steps outside the school. I have half a mind to go in search of more coffee, but this hangover – I need stillness. I need to sit. Cal stays standing.

‘That’s fair,’ he says. ‘But I really do feel compelled to be a person who encourages you to at least see if you can get the money. If you can’t, no harm no foul, right? And if we’ve got an hour to kill anyway, we could fill it in together, just to see …’

I really don’t understand this guy’s game.

‘Why do you even care?’ I ask. ‘What’s in it for you?’

‘Call it my apology,’ he replies, gesturing to see if he can take a seat next to me on the steps. I sigh.

‘Okay, fine,’ I say, pulling it out and passing it to him. I just happened to grab my nannying bag this morning, when I was in a rush, so it’s with me, by chance. ‘I happen to have it right here with me so, whatever. But if I get the funding I don’t owe you anything, okay? This is a chaotic neutral.’

‘Understood,’ Cal says, and he lets one side of his mouth curl up into a smirk, daring to hold my eye until I mirror him and smile too. ‘You’re an idiot,’ I say, light-heartedly, because I don’t know what else to say.

‘Noted,’ he replies. ‘I accept the compliment.’

Cal smooths out the three-page form and I hand him the pen I am also carrying. A nanny’s bag always has pens, tissues, wet wipes, anti-bac, a series of emergency snacks, random Calpol pouches – I am prepared for any and all eventualities.

We go through the basics – name, age, address, phone number, email – with me telling Cal what to put. He could officially rob me of my identity now. Then I have to explain the general business idea of Stray Kids, continuing on a blank page if necessary, and outline the financial aspects of it – how it will keep itself funded, if staff will be volunteers or paid, health and safety considerations. I’ve been thinking about this for two years, so I know the pitch inside out. It all comes pouring out of me easily, and more than once Cal has to tell me to wait so he can catch up because I’m talking so fast.

‘You’ll get the money,’ Cal says, once we reach the end. ‘Every town or village in the country needs a programme like this. You’re really on to something.’

‘Fingers crossed,’ I reply. ‘I tell myself I’m totally happy being a career nanny, but sometimes I wonder if it’s just Henry’s nanny that I want to be. And he’s not going to need me forever – more’s the pity. So. At least I have this idea percolating in the background.’

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