Page 8 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘Did the Abbot give you his lowdown on which kid wouldn’t make it?’ she asked.
‘The Abbot?’
Amy grinned. ‘That’s another one. There are a fair few floating about. As before, you’re sworn to lower level staff circle secrecy.’
‘Got it. And to answer your question, yes, he mentioned one of my boys might be, um, prison-bound.’
‘He does like his labels. ‘Mine are only five and six years old, but according to Greg I’ve got the farmer, the pigeon racer/weirdo, the accountant, and the rocket scientist. A few are undecided, but by the time they get to Year Five he’s pretty much got them all nailed down.’
Jennifer smiled. ‘And it’s our job to try to prove him wrong?’
Amy lifted a hand and clicked her fingers as though about to start up a jazz standard. A glob of poster glue landed on the front of Jennifer’s schedule book, but she pretended not to notice.
‘Exactly,’ Amy said. ‘Or at least we have to show them the options, make sure they know there are other paths to the one Father Super Ted has predicted for them.’
‘Is, ah, that another one?’
‘Huh? Oh, you mean Father … yes, that’s right.’
Jennifer tapped the side of her nose. ‘But it’s a secret, right?’
‘Ping-pong.’
Bonky,as ever, was delighted by Jennifer’s return. She really wanted to spend some time unpacking, but the dog would not be denied his walk. The sun was peeking between the trees as she made her way down to Sycamore Park. She had brought a book with her from school, on best practices for teaching children, so she found a bench by the duck pond still warmed by a patch of sunlight, and let Bonky off his lead.
It was hard to concentrate on the book, though. Gazing out at the pond, watching the birds duck and dive, listening to the wind rustling the leaves … she felt like someone had inserted a straw into her head and was drawing out the stress of the teaching day. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Three days in Brentwell, and she was beginning to think she had made the right choice. The agony of moving out of Mark’s flat, quitting her job, suffering her parents’ obvious disappointment … the doubts still shuddered through her, but they were less each day.
Bonky had run himself out chasing pigeons around the duck pond and came back to slump panting at Jennifer’s feet. She reached down and scooped the dog up on to her lap, feeling the heat of his little body through the curls of fur.
‘Are you ready for some dinner?’
When Jennifer reached Oak Leaf Café, she found Angela outside, squatting by one of the tables, fixing a bent table leg.
‘Oh, hello,’ Angela said, giving Jennifer a smile. ‘How was the pie?’
‘I was the envy of the staffroom,’ Jennifer said. ‘Ah, I forgot to bring your pot back. I’ll drop it by tomorrow or on Saturday, if that’s all right?’
‘Any time is fine. I have dozens of the things. Can you hold this for me? It’s been a bit wobbly for ages, and I need to give it a tweak. I had a customer nearly catapult a milkshake into their lap this afternoon. Wouldn’t have been the best for business, although I’m pretty sure it was one of the local councillors, so perhaps its karma.’ Angela gave her a wink. ‘I see fewer bloodsuckers on Halloween.’
‘What happened?’
Angela frowned. ‘Well, the latest issue is that they want to chop down Big Gerry.’
‘Who?’
Angela laughed. ‘Not a who, but a what. You haven’t seen Big Gerry yet? Come on, I’ll show you.’
‘What about the café?’
‘Business isn’t exactly booming. I’ll put an “Out for Late Lunch” sign in the window in case anyone stops by. We’ll only be a minute.’
‘Do you usually eat lunch this late?’
Angela laughed. ‘Lunch is an ongoing process from opening to closing,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t let a customer’s dish go out without having a nibble first, could I?’
Jennifer waited while Angela locked the café’s front door, then together they headed into Sycamore Park. Angela took the path headed around to the east, then stopped in a shady, paved square which the roots of several surrounding trees had turned into lumpy, crazy paving.
