Page 6 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
‘Actually, I want to bake another in the morning, so I tried to give you all that was left. I couldn’t quite fit it on the plate, so I’ve put it in a Tupperware for you to take home. That’s if you like it, of course. If you don’t, not to worry. Just pass it on to a neighbour.’
‘I haven’t met mine yet. In fact, I haven’t actually unpacked yet either.’
Angela waved a hand. ‘There’s always tomorrow. Anyway, you enjoy your meal. I’ll just bring a little something for Bonky, plus perhaps a cushion. The floor might be a little hard.’
Angela started to walk away, but Jennifer put up a hand and muttered, ‘Uh, excuse me…?’ in a way that reminded her of some of the more shy members of her class.
‘Yes?’
‘Um, if you haven’t eaten, would you like to join me?’ Jennifer shrugged. ‘Bonky isn’t the best for conversation, particularly when he’s tired. Chasing all those pigeons, you know….’
Angela looked at her a moment, then shrugged. ‘Well, sure. If you’ll indulge me a little. You walked here, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Perfect.’
Angela went back into the kitchen, then returned a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘Chilean Red,’ she said, holding up the bottle. ‘Perfect for an autumn evening.’ She winked. ‘It’s a little chilly, and the skies are red … sorry, that’s a shocker.’
It took Jennifer a moment to catch the attempted joke, but when she did, she gave a sympathetic laugh. ‘I’ve heard worse. And far ruder, too.’
‘Well, let’s drink to autumn, to long, cool evenings, and to new friends.’
Almost to signal his agreement, Bonky looked up and gave a sharp bark.
Jennifer took the offered glass and smiled. ‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said.
4
Big Gerry
Angela Dawson proved enlighteningand entertaining company. Jennifer still had a smile on her face the next morning when she woke up, surrounded by piles of unpacked boxes. Bonky was in his basket beside the bed, and James was curled up between her feet. The sun was streaming through a window she had not yet had time to hang with curtains, and the alarm clock on her bedside table read 6.45 a.m.
Bonky, as astute as ever, immediately noticed Jennifer was awake, and began to make a fuss. She hauled herself out of bed, got herself ready for work, fed a lethargic James, then grabbed Bonky’s lead and together they headed out for his morning walk.
At just after seven, the sun was still yet to appear, and street lights were still on even though the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. With not a cloud in the sky it looked like the beginning of another beautiful autumn day, even if the air was chilly enough to make Jennifer thankful for her jacket.
The streets were empty besides a couple of morning joggers and dog walkers. Jennifer wandered down Willis Lane to the junction with Sycamore Place. At the far end, the gates to Sycamore Park stood open in the gloom.
Bonky seemed keen to go that way.
‘Okay, why not?’
Jennifer led the dog up to the park. Under the trees it was mostly dark, but street lights along the park’s paths gave enough light for the joggers and dog walkers to navigate by. She took Bonky over to the duck pond, where a number of birds sat around the water, their heads tucked under their wings. She kept the dog on his lead so as not to disturb them, but Bonky was happy enough to inspect the bushes instead.
They did a quick circuit of the park. When they passed the Oak Leaf Café, Jennifer looked up at the windows, but they were still dark. Angela, all laughter and tall tales, had kept her longer than she had planned, until way after the café’s official closing time. A sign on the door said that it opened for breakfast at eight, so with a wry smile, Jennifer hoped Angela made it.
Back at the house half an hour later, she grabbed her school things and headed out. The thought of work put an immediate dampener on everything, but at least she could look forward to a walk in the park after work, especially if the skies stayed clear. As she walked up Willis Lane to the high street, she felt better than she had at any time since her rushed and abrupt departure from Dottingham.
She had just turned off the high street on to Clover Drive, which led up to Brentwell Primary, when she spotted little Matthew Bridges walking on his own on the other side of the street, his head bowed, bag slung almost low enough to touch the ground. One of the boy’s shoelaces was untied, and dragged along the pavement behind his shoe. His shirt was untucked at the back, poking out of his school sweater like the corner of an envelope.
‘Matthew! Good morning!’ she called, lifting a hand to wave as he glanced back. He caught her eye, gave a half nod, then carried on his way.
Labels began to offer themselves, but it was too early to make any kind of a judgment on the boy or his home life. Getting involved with problem families had been something Jennifer hadn’t anticipated during her first teaching job. Looking back on it, she couldn’t decide which was worse, the kids living below the breadline or the ones so far above it they no longer had a grounding in reality.
As she was walking across the teachers’ car park, a shiny BMW roared into a spot just in front of her and came to a lurching stop with an angry squeal of brakes. Jennifer hurried past before it could reverse into her, but before she had reached the teachers’ entrance Rick Fellow’s voice came from behind her.
