Page 4 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘Our resident conquistador. You’re single, aren’t you?’
‘Ah—’
‘At least, there’s nothing on your finger. Mind you, if there was, he’d see it as a challenge.’
Jennifer was still struggling over how to respond when Amy shrugged. ‘Oh well. Time to get this next herd to the feeding troughs. Speak to you later.’
After havingto break up a playground fight just after lunch, and then enduring a chaotic art class in sixth period when Gavin Gordon poured a pot of black paint over Matthew’s painting of sunflowers, causing the smaller boy to burst into tears, Jennifer was glad to hear the final bell and wave her children off for the day. She had anticipated having to stay late to deal with any emergency stuff that came up or report her progress to Greg, but the headmaster was out on business, while Rick had gone home early, allowing her to clear up and arrange some things for tomorrow without hassle. She shared a quick cup of tea with Amy, then headed back to her new flat at just after five p.m.
The threat of rain that had lingered most of the day had cleared up, leaving a beautiful, clear, afternoon sky to accompany her as she walked up the high street and past a Tesco Metro, where she grabbed something for dinner. As she climbed the stairs to her second floor flat, she paused, gave a little smile, and then knocked on the door.
A scrabble of paws came from inside, followed by a tirade of excited yapping. She opened the door and Bonky, her little toy poodle, practically jumped into her arms, before encircling her with a series of rapid turns, his little tail wagging frantically.
‘Right,’ she said, scooping the dog up and carrying him back into the flat, where many of her boxes still stood waiting to be unpacked. From his bed by the living room window, her cat, James, looked up, gave her a brief miaow as though to remind her of his existence, then resumed watching whatever was going on outside.
With Bonky still tucked under her arm, Jennifer scooted around the mess of her personal life, delivering tonight’s dinner to the narrow kitchen tacked on to the side of the slightly bigger living room, wishing she’d spent more time browsing for flats before deciding on this one. Honestly, though, it had looked a lot bigger in the pictures, and at least she could afford it. Even for a small town like Brentwell, the local rents were staggeringly high for a relative beginner teacher to afford.
To her frustration, she had forgotten to turn the fridge on, which meant the milk had gone sour. The margarine and the half finished tin of pasta sauce from yesterday would survive, but she had been dreaming of a coffee on her only chair all the way home. Still, she had passed a Spar on the way, and Bonky needed his walk, so she could pick up some milk on the way back.
Moving a couple of boxes aside, she fed a delighted Bonky, while James ambled over to nudge the vibrating dog aside and take his share. Then, giving her cat a quick, mostly ignored rub, Jennifer hunted out the dog’s lead from a box and pulled her jacket back on.
‘Walkies,’ she said, to which the little dog began to yap and spin in circles. James gave both of them a nonchalant glance before returning to his bed.
The day’s warmth still lingered as Jennifer urged the little dog along the edge of the pavement, Bonky content to inspect every patch of grass, litter bin, or lamp post. Having rattled through her late arrival yesterday and her frantic first day at work, Jennifer hadn’t had a chance to explore her new home. Now, with Bonky taking his time, she got to really look at her little suburb of Brentwell for the first time.
Her road, Willis Lane, was a long, meandering suburban street which connected at one end to the high street, and at the other to an industrial estate. Several other roads intersected with it, heading north and south, but until now Jennifer hadn’t had a chance to have a look at them. To the south, the houses were larger, detached buildings with neat front lawns. North, towards the old town centre, the houses were taller, Georgian and Edwardian terraces, most separated into flats or turned into offices for lawyers, accountants, and financial consultants. They looked very much alike, but as she reached a junction with a road called Sycamore Place, she noticed a stand of trees at the far end surrounding the entrance to a park.
‘That looks a bit more interesting than your lamp post,’ she said to Bonky, as he cocked his leg over a patch of weeds. ‘Let’s go.’
It took about ten minutes to coax the dog to the entrance of the park, but as she stepped through a pair of open cast iron gates, Jennifer couldn’t help but smile at the sign attached to one.
Welcome to Sycamore Park
Tarmac footpaths curved away to the right and left, beneath towering sycamore, oak, and beech trees. In front of her was a gentle grassy slope leading up to a rock feature at its peak. Through the trees to the right she spotted a children’s play area. To the left, a duck pond surrounded by benches. A signpost told her that to the north was the public library, to the west, the town theatre.
The sun, low in the sky, was glittering through the branches of the trees. A light, tickling breeze blew, making the leaves rustle. Jennifer gave a contented smile, as all her frustrations melted away. As another dog walker gave her a polite smile and said ‘Good evening,’ Jennifer smiled back, then reached down and patted Bonky.
‘Well, look what treasure we’ve found,’ she said.
3
Oak Leaf Café
Accordingto a sign by the entrance, dogs under a certain size were free to be let off their leads, so Jennifer unclipped Bonky’s harness and let him rush off on a pigeon hunt. Jennifer ambled slowly after him, enjoying the cool tickle of the breeze on her face, and the occasional warmth of the evening sun as it caught her through the trees.
With a couple of hours of daylight left, Sycamore Park was quite busy. Several young mothers stood talking by the play area while their preschool-aged children clambered on the climbing frames and played on the swings and slides. Several other dog walkers wandered along a series of smaller paths off the main circular one, or chased their dogs across the grassy field. A young couple walked arm in arm. A couple of old men sat on a bench near the duck pond, talking quietly. On a paved courtyard outside the theatre, a group of students appeared to be rehearsing for a play.
With a gruff bark, Bonky caught sight of a pigeon seemingly up for the challenge, and raced in pursuit up the grassy slope towards the rock feature. Jennifer followed, catching up with the dog near the top as he paused to regard the pigeon, now perched out of reach on one of the large stones laid around in a rough circle. It cooed once at the dog, then flapped off to the branches of a nearby tree.
Jennifer sat down on one of the stones. From here you could see the whole park. The main walking path made a complete circle, with numerous other pathways leading to monuments or secluded play areas. To the south and east, the surrounding streets were residential, with the thickest patch of trees and the theatre over to the west. To the north, a small car park stood beside the library, a two-storey Georgian building. Outside were a newspaper stand and a couple of other stalls, now closed. Down a small, tree-lined side road on the library’s right, tables and chairs were set out on a pedestrian-only street, a signboard Jennifer couldn’t read at this distance standing among them.
‘Shall we go and take a look?’ Jennifer said to the little dog, who had sat down on the grass and was watching her, tongue lolling. ‘Might be a bit more interesting than dinner out of a plastic packet. Do you think James will mind?’
The dog gave her a little bark and wagged his tail. Of course the cat wouldn’t mind.
‘Let’s go, then.’
She attached Bonky’s harness again and headed down the slope. The library was closed—at six p.m., a sign on the door said—but the little café appeared to be open, even though no one was sitting outside. Jennifer paused, looking at the sign over the door.
