Page 12 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘Even from your own mother? Honestly, what’s the world coming to? Did you do what you needed to do? Can I call my only daughter again now?’
‘Yeah, it’s fine.’
‘Just fine? I’d hoped it would be more than that. Do you know how worried I’ve been? I know you wanted your father and I to respect your decisions and everything, but you’re still my daughter. I still have the right to know what’s going on.’
Jennifer said nothing. There was a question she had hoped to avoid as long as possible, but she had known it would come eventually. She took a deep breath.
‘Mark … how is he?’
‘Oh, so you do still care, after running out on him.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘What else would you call it?’
‘I—’
‘He’s fine, for what it’s worth. He wanted to know where you were, but your father and I respected your wishes. Well, that silly note you put under our door. I thought it was a joke at first, but your father told me your handwriting hadn’t changed much since you used to write him those little letters as a kid. In fact, I would have spoken to Mark if it hadn’t been for him talking me around.’
Jennifer smiled. Her Mum was obsessed with appearances and doing the perceived “right thing”, but her dad had always had her back.
‘I don’t want Mark to know where I am. He’ll just show up, make a scene, start trying to convince me that I’m wrong, that everything was fine … when it wasn’t.’
On the other end of the line, her mother sighed. ‘You had everything. I don’t know what you’re playing at throwing it away.’
Jennifer tried to answer, but none of the words on her tongue made any sense. After a few seconds of silence, she shook her head. ‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘I need to go to bed.’
‘Jennifer—’
Too late, Jennifer hung up. Before her mother could call her again, she switched off her phone and tossed it away to the other end of the sofa, out of reach. Bonky grumbled and rolled over again. With her fingers gently massaging his back, Jennifer stared at the wall, wondering, for the millionth time, whether she had done the right thing.
7
Secret Plans
Bonky wokeher up just before sunrise. With a groan, Jennifer leaned over and pulled the energetic little dog up onto her bed. James, sleeping on the duvet near her feet, yawned and jumped down as the dog’s excitement threatened to overspill, resuming sentry duty on the windowsill, through which a grey light was filtering in.
Wishing for a couple of hours of extra sleep but unable to refuse the dog’s requests, particularly as she still felt guilty for getting home late yesterday, Jennifer got up, fed her fur-children and then made coffee. The dawn sunlight was just filtering in through her kitchen window when she collected Bonky’s lead and headed out.
The air was crisp, the wind chilly when it gusted. Bonky didn’t seem to care as he inspected the lamp posts on the way to Sycamore Park, but Jennifer kept her hands deep in her jacket pockets, the dog’s lead wrapped around one wrist.
Sycamore Park looked wonderful just after sunrise, with the sunlight glinting off the first leaves to change colour. Crows and pigeons called from the branches, and from the direction of the pond came the frantic quacking of ducks. Jennifer nodded hello to a handful of other dog walkers, some of whom she already recognised from previous visits. Most were older people, but a couple were younger women like herself, and with each shared smile she felt the pull of potential friendship.
Near the southern entrance, a portable burger van was just setting up, several people already waiting in line, blowing on their hands to ward off the cold. Jennifer did a loop of the park, past the closed Oak Leaf Café and through the courtyard around Big Gerry, and was heading back in the direction of the burger van when she saw a short, plump figure in unflattering jogging bottoms huffing and puffing along the path towards her.
It was unlikely the girl wanted to be seen, but short of making a run for Big Gerry’s expansive trunk, Jennifer had no way to hide herself. As Amy Clairmont approached, Jennifer lifted a tentative hand in greeting.
Amy looked up, gave an exhausted gasp, and shuddered to a halt like a broken down train.
‘Oh. Oh my.’
‘Good morning. I’m, ah, just walking my dog. Do you come jogging here every day?’
Amy, her cheeks a violent red, a headband pushing her hair up into a mushroom cloud, pushed foggy spectacles up her nose. ‘Oh, no, it’s just … a new term and all … that.’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you. I live just round the corner. I’ll let you get on.’
It was clear that Amy, now stopped, would never get started again. She leaned on her knees, drawing in great, gasping breaths.
