Page 29 of Just Like That

The picnic area becomes busier and the employees, who obviously know each other well, start to mingle – sharing jokes and stories from their day. It’s nice to watch and soak in the bouncy atmosphere, but it also makes me feel like a bit of a spare part, so I gravitate across to Nick and Serge at the barbeque.

‘Can I help with something?’

‘Yes, please.’ Serge dumps a tray of bread rolls in front of me without hesitation. ‘Please cut and butter each one.’

‘Sure.’ I grab a knife and the huge tub of margarine from a nearby table and begin my task. ‘How did you both find the session?’

‘It was good,’ says Serge. ‘Good to know that maybe we can save this park. I have been here just three years, but it already feels like home.’ He places a hand on his chest and I can sense that he really means it.

‘I love that you’re so open and honest. That kind of passion is rare. What about you, Nick?’

‘It was fine.’ He shrugs with indifference and I laugh.

‘See, that’s exactly what I mean.’ I cock my head comically.

‘He is British, yes.’ Serge gives a hearty chuckle. ‘But he also needs the love of a good woman. That is what frees a man.’

Although Serge doesn’t appear to have any ulterior motive with this comment (or at least I hope he doesn’t), it catches me off guard and I struggle to find an appropriate way to respond. It also seems to have the same effect on Nick, who doubles down his focus on the burgers he’s flipping.

‘Do you have a husband at home?’ Serge fills the silence by asking me and I feel myself redden, despite this being an innocent and reasonable enough question to ask when getting to know someone.

‘Um… no…’ I stammer. ‘And I’m quite happy that way. I… uh… have a lot going on in my life and I want to do the career thing first.’

‘Well don’t wait too long.’

‘Oh, why’s that?’ I’m expecting him to deliver the clichéd ‘clock ticking’ comment we women regularly hear in its various guises, and I’m poised to (light-heartedly) call him out on this, but he throws in a curveball.

‘Because, Jess, if you leave it too long, all the best men will be taken and you will have to find your husband from the next generation down.’

Nick scoffs at this, clearly enjoying the suggestion of me having to find myself a toy boy. I shoot him a look, which he misses, his focus still on the burgers.

‘Yes, well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,’ I muse. ‘Men in my generation leave a lot to be desired.’

The smug look on Nick’s face instantly evaporates, while Serge laughs heartily and excuses himself to the kitchen to pick up the condiments.

‘What did you really think of the session?’ I pause mid-buttering and turn to Nick.

He gives another shrug of indifference. ‘It got you the outcome you wanted. What does it matter what I think?’

‘It matters because, for this plan to work, it needs every single one of you on board – and the male pride you’ve admitted to having isn’t going to save this park.’

A flash of annoyance crosses Nick’s face, making it clear he regrets sharing that character flaw with me. Well, tough. It’s not like it wasn’t completely obvious anyway.

‘Look, Nick…’ I try to look him square in the face, but he’s able to avoid eye contact by keeping his focus on the sizzling grill. ‘Gwen needs you on board with this.’

‘I am on board with it. I took part in the session, didn’t I? What more do you want?’

‘You could do it with a little enthusiasm.’

He sighs and rolls his eyes. ‘So, basically the measure of whether I’m considered to be “on board” is whether I get all excited and join in when we have a group hug?’

‘What? No.That’s not what I mean at all.’

‘Then what do you mean? Because as far as I can see, it sounds like you want me to have a personality transplant.’ His voice raises in volume, causing some of the park workers to turn curiously in our direction.

‘Nick, that’s not it.’ I lower my own voice in an attempt to defuse the situation. ‘It’s just that, when there are team members who lack enthusiasm, it can bring everyone down – and your team needs to really go for this or it’s game over.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ He hisses at me with a defiant stare, then stalks off, thrusting the tongs into Serge’s free hand as he returns from the kitchen with a box of condiments.

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