Page 11 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘Thanks.’
‘And I really appreciate it. I’m getting a little long in the tooth, so it’s tough these days when we get busy. I suppose I could put away a couple of the tables, but you should never turn down business. One of the rules, isn’t it?’
Jennifer nodded. ‘I guess so.’
‘Right, well, now we’ve got all the customers sorted, you sit yourself down and I’ll see what I can find for you. I’m trusting you haven’t eaten yet?’
Jennifer shook her head. ‘I had to stay late for a meeting.’
Angela rolled her eyes. ‘Typical schools. Did someone leave the taps on in the toilets or pull out all the hand towels?’
‘Nothing so deathly serious. It was about the harvest festival. They can’t hold it at the school, so they’ve selected this ghastly community centre on Porter Street instead.’
‘Oh, I know it. The caravan?’
‘It’s not quite a caravan, but it’s about the same size. And the car park is gravel so it’ll be horrible for setting up any stalls. It’s going to be a disaster.’
Angela grinned. ‘I heard the old place was haunted, so they tore it down.’
‘Seriously?’
Angela shrugged. ‘It would make a better story than blaming the demolition on damp. It was probably a spiteful imp that haunted the mains water pipes.’
‘Well, they couldn’t possibly have chosen a worse place. The kids will hate it.’
Angela frowned. ‘Why don’t you just hold it here in Sycamore Park?’
‘Is that allowed?’
‘I don’t see why not. I’ll have a word with Tom, the park’s caretaker, when he comes in for breakfast. He always does on a Saturday morning. He’ll know for sure.’
Jennifer thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘Great, thanks.’
Angela smiled, then went back into the kitchen. From her usual window seat, Jennifer watched the park outside, where shadows were just beginning to lengthen beneath the trees as the sun dipped behind the theatre.
It was worth a try. Plus, if she could do something good for the school it would gain a few brownie points with Greg. Jennifer had survived her first week by the skin of her teeth, but still considered herself on probation. Many of the kids were still cold with her, and some of the older teachers turned their noses up as though aware of how she was stumbling through each day.
Angela reappeared with a plate of seasonal salad, a bowl of pumpkin soup, and a large slice of lamb and rosemary pie, all precariously balanced on her forearms. She set it down in front of Jennifer like an old pro, then produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘If you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I just called last orders, and it is Friday after all. You’ll allow an old lady to indulge, won’t you? I don’t quite have the legs for the clubs on the high street, but I can handle a couple of glasses of wine before slippers and bed.’
‘Just the one,’ Jennifer said, taking her glass and holding it out. ‘Bonky needs his evening walk and James will be getting hungry. But it is Friday, so best make it a large.’
Later,sitting on her sofa with her feet up on her coffee table, Bonky asleep on her lap and James nestled in beside her, Jennifer sipped a cup of hot chocolate and congratulated herself on surviving her first week. Last Monday, watching the removal men carrying boxes into the flat, still unsure where Brentwell Primary actually was in location to her new address, and unaware of the existence of a wonderful park just a five-minute walk away, Jennifer couldn’t have imagined that by the end of her first school week, she would have made a new friend, learned how to cook a quiche, and become a lobbyist for the survival of an ancient tree.
Neither would she have expected to have to clean up three different piles of sick, rescue a plimsoll, break up a fight, and become a new object of desire for the local womaniser.
Brentwell was certainly throwing up the surprises.
Her phone rang, making her jerk out of a half-doze. James, annoyed, jumped down and made his way over to his basket on another chair. Bonky rolled over, then settled again.
Jennifer looked at the picture flashing up on her phone, an older, more matured version of herself. She steeled herself, then answered the call.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Ah, so you haven’t lost it after all.’
Jennifer sighed. ‘I just needed a little radio silence for a few days. Just until I’d got myself sorted out.’
