Page 20 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘I’m fine.’
She had said it a little harsher than she had intended, but it was too late to go back on it now. Tom just looked hurt as she scooped her shoe and sock from the drying rack, stuffing the sock into her pocket and pulling the wet shoe over her bare foot. Then, grabbing Bonky’s lead from where it hung over a chair, she picked up the little dog and staggered for the door, wincing as her cold, damp insole tickled her foot.
‘It was nice to talk to you,’ she said, trying to force a smile as she opened the door and felt the evening cold wrap around her. ‘See you around?’
Tom said nothing but gave a brief shrug that could have meant anything. Jennifer, feeling equal parts relief and regret, slipped out, shutting the door behind her and hurrying off before she could either change her mind or Tom could come after her.
The sun had gone down and the park was shrouded in shadow. Flutters of falling leaves danced across the paths as she hurried for the way out. By the time she reached her flat, street lights had blinked on, and the air was decidedly cool. Inside, she switched on the heating, fed James and Bonky, then took a shower, washing her shoe and sock at the same time. She left them to dry by a radiator, then put on her pyjamas and took a bottle of wine from the fridge.
She thought about watching TV, but she wasn’t in the mood. In the end, she sat on the sofa, drinking a glass of wine while staring at the wall, wondering what had happened to her. She liked Tom, she really did, but she couldn’t go there right now. It had barely been two months since she had packed up her possessions and moved out of the house she had shared with Mark while he was away on yet another golfing weekend, leaving him the briefest of notes that it was over and she wouldn’t be back. She felt like she had held up a pair of scissors to the storybook of her old life, but they had only cut part of the way through.
She could still remember Mark’s number by heart. She could call him right now, and be back at her old place by tomorrow afternoon. Her old school would probably take her back, and all her old friends would forgive her.
Except they hadn’t been her friends.
They had been Mark’s.
And that had been part of the problem.
‘I’m spoiled goods, Bonkster,’ she said, patting the little dog sitting on her lap, while beside her, nestled against her thigh, James responded to her stroke with a deep, contented purr. ‘I’m glad you guys are stupid enough to put up with me.’
She wokeup the next morning feeling much the same as she had the night before, but with a hangover thrown into the mix. She made some cereal and took Bonky out for his walk, this time purposefully walking away from Sycamore Park along a series of bland suburban roads.
She realised it was time she got her feelings off her chest about Mark. A problem shared was a problem halved and all that. Making a roundabout route to Sycamore Park to avoid bumping into Tom, she knocked on Angela’s back door, but got no answer. Around the front of the café the door had a sign: SORRY, OUT OF TOWN FOR THE DAY.
Frustrated, Jennifer sat down on a bench and thumbed through her phone’s contact list. It was a pretty poor selection: unsympathetic family member, Mark-loyal friend, credit card replacement hotline, Mark-loyal friend, car mechanic, mother, Dottingham Animal clinic … she was about to give up, when she decided to check her recent calls.
Amy.
They must have exchanged numbers at the pub on Friday afternoon, and Jennifer hadn’t gotten around to saving it to her contacts list. Amy wasn’t exactly the first person she would choose to unload her darkest secrets upon, but she was a marginally better choice than Bonky or James, neither of whom were capable of offering much advice.
She made the call. Amy sounded surprised to get a lunch invite, but quickly turned on the enthusiasm when Jennifer gave her the choice of location.
‘See you in a couple of hours,’ Jennifer said, hanging up.
The Rajof Punjab was a curry buffet restaurant in the centre of town. While not Jennifer’s first choice, she didn’t mind a bit of curry and it would probably help lift the hangover. Amy, waiting outside, was practically licking her lips with excitement as Jennifer waved and crossed the street.
‘I’ve got us a table already,’ Amy said, rubbing her hands together. ‘Are you cold? I’m cold. Don’t worry, we’ll soon warm up in there. Do you know they have four types of Bhuna?’
‘Are there four types?’ Jennifer asked.
Amy grinned. ‘Lamb, chicken, pork, and mixed meat,’ she said.
‘Oh.’
‘Come on then, let’s get started. I saw a family of big people go in just before. We have to hurry or they’ll clean out all the onion bhajis.’
‘Big people?’
Amy gave a nervous laugh, then puffed out her cheeks and flicked her eyes from side to side. Jennifer, fast regretting her decision to invite Amy for lunch, could at least see why she made a good teacher. The kids had to be endlessly entertained.
The table Amy had chosen was not just near the selection of curries, but right next to it, so that every time another customer got up to fill their plate, they would invariably spend some time leaning over Jennifer and Amy’s table while they reloaded their plates with thick Madras and korma sauces.
The food, however, Jennifer had to admit was pretty good, and within a few mouthfuls of hot, tasty curry, she was starting to feel a bit better. As a waiter brought over a heaped plate of sliced naan and poppadoms, she cleared her throat, wiped her mouth, and said, ‘I hope you didn’t mind me taking up your Saturday.’
Amy, resembling a hamster with her cheeks crammed full of thick chunks of chicken tikka, gave a frantic shake of her head. ‘Oh, no, it’s quite all right. A girls’ day out and all that.’
‘You must have been busy.’
