Page 40 of Knowing You
‘What can I say? All the interest from publishers, people like you… it must have gone to my head.’
‘You were born confident. I can tell,’ I say, steering the conversation away fromAlien Hearts.
He laughs loudly and a nearby blackbird squawks and flies away. ‘I’m afraid my mother and sisters would whole-heartedly agree. I recognised very early on that I was the man of the house and that didn’t frighten me.’ A shadow of emotion that disagrees with those words crosses his face. ‘Not that I’d ever have called myself that in front of my mum and older sisters. And it took a while for me to grow into the role – a role that, I guess, sounds old-fashioned now. They have always been forces to be reckoned with, especially in my younger years. I wasn’t allowed to play out until homework was done. As far back as I can remember, I had lists of chores but as I matured, the roles reversed a little and I began to feel a responsibility for family members. As soon as I could, I saved up for a car and I’d insist on picking my sisters up from nightclubs instead of them risking public transport home. They used to moan the way I used to when they supervised me doing my English or maths but, deep down, we all knew the concern sprang from love. We looked after each other.’
‘My mum was the same,’ I say as we approach a pond. ‘Everything that seemed hard, I eventually realised was for my own good.’ Apart from once. But I push those thoughts of Flint away.
We peer into the water and by a patch of bulrushes notice a cluster of frog spawn. A few tadpoles have already hatched and twist their bodies as they swim. I kneel down and scoop bubbles of clear jelly into my hand.
‘When I was little, I used to imagine these threaded into a necklace – one I could wear as well as my daisy chains. The design label would have been called Mother Nature.’
‘No surprise you’ve become a children’s fiction editor,’ says Casey and watches as I carefully tip the spawn back. He shakes his head. ‘You’re so perfectly groomed yet think nothing of sticking your hand in a muddy pond.’
Perfectly groomed? As I try to think of a witty response, a scream catches our attention and I jump up. Running towards us is a toddler, red in the face and holding his arm. His mum follows, pushing a buggy which jolts up and down as she veers from the path and its stones.
‘Stop, Toby! Careful! You could fall into the water.’ She shoots us a desperate look. I dart over to the little boy and crouch down in front of him. His whole body shakes. Casey stands by my side and runs a hand through his hair as if he might find the answer of how to help in there.
‘Ow!’ gulps the boy as his nose runs. His mum catches up. I reach into my pocket and pull out a tissue. I look at the mum as her baby starts to cry and gratefully she nods.
‘Is it okay if I wipe your face?’ I say gently.
Toby nods too. Job done, I look at the red lump on his arm.
‘Did a bumblebee hurt you?’
Tears run down his face again. Gently I examine the lump. The stinger is still in. If left, the pain will increase. I’d been stung often enough as a child playing in Applegrove Woods.
‘Is it okay if I give your arm just a little squeeze?’ I say. ‘It will help get rid of the pain.’
‘No!’ He pulls away.
‘Toby! Darling. The kind lady is just trying to help,’ says his mum as she lifts up the baby.
His bottom lip quivers. ‘You won’t squeeze hard?’
I shake my head. Reluctantly he holds out his arm. With another clean tissue at the ready, I gently pinch the inflamed skin. Toby winces, but thankfully the stinger pops out and I wipe it away.
‘A really big bumblebee stung me once on my leg,’ I say. ‘But I realised that it was because I was flapping my arms. It got frightened and thought I would hurt it. The bumblebee told me it was very sorry but the little sting was its way of keeping safe.’
Toby wipes his face and looks at his arm. Then at me. ‘It spoke?’
‘Yes. It told me not to be scared next time. Just to keep still. It said bumblebees were much more frightened of humans because we were so big.’ I reach into my handbag and pull out a handful of medication from a zipped pocket. Casey holds his hands out and I drop them in. Ibuprofen, paracetamol, hayfever tablets – I come to a small packet of antiseptic wipes. I look at the mum once more and she smiles. I pass Toby a wipe.
‘Clean the sting gently with this. You are being so brave.’
Toby does as instructed and gives the wipe back to me.
‘There. All done. If you look carefully around the gardens, you might find your bumblebee waiting to say sorry. Or sometimes they just make their friends buzz extra loud when you pass. That’s an apology.’
Toby grins. ‘Come on, Mummy.’
‘Thanks so much,’ she says as she pushes her buggy past.
I delve into my bag once more and pass her my business card. ‘I work for a publisher. One of our new authors has just written a book designed to make insects like spiders and bees less scary. The illustrations are fantastic. Email me if you like, and I’ll post you out a copy.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. Hey, Toby, listen to this,’ she says and hurries after him.
Casey stares at me for a moment. I wonder if my make-up has smudged. He shakes his head. ‘Talk about organised. You’re a nurse to boot. Is there no end to your talents? So, talking to insects…?’
