A Walk in Wildflower Park
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‘Anna? What is it?’ His voice was surprisingly gentle.
He would think she was a total idiot but there was no point in lying – he was on the distribution list too. She swallowed hard. ‘I’ve sent pictures of my cat to almost everyone on the programme.’
His eyebrows jumped but he recovered his expression quickly. ‘Budge up,’ he said, shoving her wheelie chair and making her collide with Sophie like an errant bumper car. His fingers whizzed across the keys as her heart thumped at an unnatural speed. She’d never done anything quite so stupid before. There was the time she left her egg salad on a sunny windowsill and went to a workshop, stinking out the office … but this beat that hands down.
Hudson stood up straight. ‘Okay. Recalled successfully—’
‘Thank you so much,’ said Anna, relief swamping her.
‘—with the exception of Roberta. She’s already opened the email,’ he added, wincing and scrunching up his shoulders as if waiting to be thumped.
‘Bugger,’ said Anna, with feeling. That was going to be a fun one to explain. Anna twisted around. Roberta’s office was empty and her laptop wasn’t there – she liked to take it to meetings to make herself look extremely important.
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ said Sophie, ‘I mean Catwoman was a feminist right? And so is Roberta so …’ She gave Anna’s arm a pat whilst she and Hudson exchanged knowing looks.
A meeting reminder popped up, jerking her back into action. She had precisely five minutes until the big meeting. She dashed to the printer to collect her hand-outs but the printer was lit up like Las Vegas with warning lights and had not printed anything. She checked all its paper trays, she rummaged around in the middle bit and nothing appeared to have been chewed up, and as a last resort she switched it off and on again. She was now ready to give it a thorough kicking.
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Hudson, who must have crept up behind her.
Anna spun around and leaned back against the printer to put a little space between them. ‘No, I’m fine.’ She tucked a piece of stray hair behind her right ear in a jerky movement. She wasn’t fine but having him see that wasn’t going to improve things.
‘Can I help at all?’ he asked, peering past her to the myriad flashing lights on the printer’s panel.
‘I doubt it,’ said Anna, before running him through all the things she had tried. She checked her watch – she needed to leave or she’d be late. Hudson leaned towards her and she wondered for a second what he was going to do. He pushed the toner door slightly and it clicked shut. The whole machine whirred into life and Hudson gave her a nonchalant rise of his shoulders. She hated it when that happened.
‘Thank you.’ She managed to say it without gritting her teeth. She gathered up her papers and scuttled off.
Anna’s day proceeded to go from bad to worse; Roberta was not impressed with the photos of Maurice and had a rant at her in front of everybody over an entry on the risk log, which she clearly didn’t understand, only to apologise later in private and explain away her behaviour as a result of her imminent period. Karl was stressing about lack of data – he really did put the anal in analyst, and Hudson was being perfectly efficient, which was always irritating. She was glad to escape at the end of the day, even if the sight that greeted her was perplexing … Maurice was still asleep on her expensive cushion and appeared to have not moved all day, but the entire contents of a man-size box of tissues had been shredded and liberally scattered around the living room making it look like an indoor snowdrift.
The fact Maurice had slept all day unfortunately meant that he was awake and meowing for most of the night; evidently he didn’t feel quite at home yet. Anna went for a jog first thing, though after very little sleep, it was like sticking her head in a washing machine during spin cycle – neither was a great idea, but at least she was out in the fresh air and enjoying the park. It was Saturday morning and she was keen to leave her work frustrations behind her. The steady rhythm of trainer on path consumed her body while her brain could focus on what was troubling her.
Anna realised what had started out as a jog had been speeding up and her lungs were burning with effort. She slowed down and stopped near a bench, holding on to the back of it while she caught her breath, admiring the row of grand houses that circled the park. They all had gardens that gave them exclusive access to the park on their doorstep, and she could see Sophie’s house from here – or rather, her back gate. Sophie’s house had a very long garden, which led to a lovely family home, and without even realising what she was doing, Anna had given up on her run and was walking towards it. It was time for a cuppa and a serious bitching session.
Anna wasn’t surprised to find the gate was locked but a quick phone call to Sophie had Dave sent down to let her in.
‘Welcome to the madhouse! You okay?’ He was his usual upbeat self. Nothing seemed to faze Dave, he bobbed along happily as the rest of life’s shit flew around him. Sometimes literally, if Petal was in a nappy-diving mood.
‘I’m good, thanks. Settling in to the neighbourhood.’ She felt the need to pre-empt the next question.
‘We knew you’d love it here. Sophie’s in the utility wrestling with sheets. Arlo was sick last night. He’d sneaked a box of Maltesers and eaten the lot.’
As they neared the house the noise of shouting children increased. Arlo was running around the kitchen wearing a sieve on his head and waving a pirate sword, his latest obsession.
‘Hiya, Arlo,’ said Anna, intercepting him and the plastic sword neatly. ‘How’s school going?’
‘Rubbish. Willoughby Newell keeps getting me into trouble.’
Anna mouthed the name at Dave and he shook his head. Kids who were given names like that were always going to have problems, thought Anna. ‘What does he do to get you in trouble?’ she asked.
‘He cries when I hit him,’ said Arlo, a deep frown burrowing across his perfect skin.
‘Do you think maybe if you didn’t hit him, that might help?’
Arlo pondered this for a moment, his wavy baby blond hair swinging about his head as he shook it vehemently.
‘Shitake!’ Sophie’s voice came from the utility. Anna left Dave to explain the laws of cause and effect to his son.
Anna popped her head round the door. ‘Mushrooms as swear words – that’s a new one. What’s up?’
Sophie hugged Petal to her hip. She was surrounded by a rainbow of laundry; brightly coloured baskets overflowed with clothes all around her. ‘This,’ she said, waving her one free arm in a chaotic fashion. ‘I swear the kids get through three outfits each a day. It’s like painting the Forth Bridge but at least doing that you’d get some fresh air rather than being stuck inside all the time. Why isn’t being naked socially acceptable?’ Her eyes told Anna this was a genuine question.
Anna studied the piles of dirty clothes. ‘How do they wear this much?’
‘These people are experts. They train hard. They’re at the peak of their performance. I have bred Olympic mess makers.’
‘Takeaway coffee and a walk round the park?’ suggested Anna with a weak smile.
Sophie decided to bring Arlo because Dave was complaining he couldn’t do what he needed to and watch both the children.
Arlo had found a giant stick and like an overenthusiastic Labrador was attempting to drag it along with him, but at least he’d tire himself out and Sophie might even be in for the rare treat of an undisturbed night’s sleep.
‘You okay?’ asked Anna, sounding tentative.
‘My eyes have more bags than a schoolkid with PE and Food Tech on the same day, my husband is as useful as go faster stripes on a tortoise, my children act like they’ve been raised by hyperactive wolves and I haven’t slept properly since the millennium.’
‘Same as usual then,’ said Anna.
‘You know, I actually fantasise about sleeping for a whole uninterrupted eight hours.’ Sophie stared off into the distance and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘Sleep is my fantasy. It used to be Ryan Gosling, and before him it was Robert Pattinson.’
‘I thought it used to be David Beckham.’
Sophie nodded. ‘Him too. Oh, who am I kidding? I couldn’t be bothered even if he turned up on my doorstep. I’d end up getting him to play with the kids while I went for a nap. Victoria Beckham’s very lucky. Her David is a real family man, he’s loaded, has world-renowned dress sense and he’s gorgeous. In life’s lottery I got my David. He’s a real ale man, all his money goes on the mortgage and bills, most homeless guys are better dressed than he is and he has the kind of face that perfectly describes the word “gormless”.’
‘Ouch, that’s harsh.’
‘I don’t mean it to be. But when you step back and examine the decisions you made that brought you to where you are now. It makes you question and compare.’ She paused. ‘Arlo, the stick won’t go through that gap. It’s going to snap in half and hit you in the face if you’re not careful!’ Sophie threw her hands up in despair. ‘It’s non-stop. This week I’ve got loads to do at work for this big meeting. It’s Kraken’s birthday so Dave slipped into conversation that it’d be nice if the kids made her a card and Arlo needs some cakes for school because they’re celebrating VD Day.’
‘Blimey that’s fully inclusive for you.’ Anna laughed but Sophie didn’t join in. ‘Do you mean VE Day?’
‘Hmm?’ Sophie was deep in thought. ‘I don’t know if I can do this any more, Anna.’ Sophie stopped walking and Anna patted her arm.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do. I really do.’
They walked in silence for a while. Sophie took in great lungfuls of fresh air. Sometimes it made things seem a bit better. She liked to imagine the park was all hers. It was looking a luscious green in the intermittent May sunshine. There were some welcome splashes of colour thanks to the pretty pink flowers of the red campion and the last of the blossom on the hawthorn. The bluebells were carpeting the small wooded area and she had to shout at Arlo not to destroy them. Instead, he started a solo game of fetch with his stick.
A bouncy Labrador joined Arlo and took hold of the other end of the stick. ‘Hey! That’s mine,’ protested Arlo, but the dog was already winning the tug of war.
‘Why is everything a battle?’ asked Sophie, with a deep sigh, and she went to intervene.
Chapter Six
Anna was pleased with the letter she’d crafted. All she needed now was an address for Maurice’s previous owner and her good deed would be done. His old address, from Maurice’s vaccination records, was her starting point. Hopefully the new occupants would have a forwarding address, or at least know the name of the nursing home he was in, if it was local.
She pulled up in front of the neat row of terraced houses and went in search of number 55. She spotted the for sale sign before the house number. Anna rang the bell just in case, but there was no answer. Now what? Number 57 looked like number 55’s glamorous friend with its double glazing and shiny front door, so she decided to knock there. No answer. She was about to admit defeat when the door of number 53 opened and Paddington Bear reversed out. At least it looked like Paddington Bear from the back – the duffel coat and hat were spot on but if the wearer had hairy toes they were secreted inside a pair of sensible brogues.
‘Excuse me,’ said Anna. ‘I’m trying to find where Mr Albert Freeman has moved to. Can you help me?’
Paddington checked the door was secure for the third time then slowly turned to face Anna. Under the fancy dress was an elderly lady who looked Anna up and down and blinked a lot. ‘Who’s asking?’
A little surprised by the gruff voice, Anna paused. ‘Sorry, I’m Anna. I’ve a letter for Mr Freeman.’ She held the envelope aloft as evidence and Paddington was distracted by it.
‘He’s moved away.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Anna and Paddington seemed intrigued. ‘I got a cat from the rescue and it’s …’
‘Maurice!’ exclaimed Paddington as she put her bony hands to her mouth in surprise.
‘Yes,’ said Anna, with a smile. ‘I thought Mr Freeman would like to know he’s got a new home.’
Paddington drew closer as if about to share a secret. ‘I can take you to him, if you’d like? Is that your car?’ Paddington pointed to Anna’s Mini.
‘It is.’
‘Good. Let’s go then. I’ve not got all day.’
Anna learned that Paddington was a Mrs Temple and she’d lived next door to Mr Freeman for forty-four years.
‘Pull up here,’ instructed Mrs Temple after a ten-minute drive. ‘That’ll do me lovely. Thank you.’
Anna leaned forward and surveyed the row of shops. ‘Um, this doesn’t look like the nursing home?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Temple with a chuckle, and her many chins jiggled happily. ‘This is my optician. You want the turning back there on the left – it’s just up there. Bye!’ And Mrs Temple slammed the car door.
Anna smiled – she had to admire her cheek. She turned the car around and followed Mrs Temple’s directions. A large painted sign informed her she had arrived at The Cedars although there were no trees in sight.
Stepping inside it was as she’d expected: homely with a strong smell of detergent. Nobody seemed to be manning the reception desk so Anna felt it was acceptable to have a little wander about. She figured it was okay as she just needed to hand the letter to someone and she’d go. She was drawn to the sound of a television and as she reached the door, an efficient-looking woman wearing some sort of uniform was coming out. ‘Hello there. Are you looking for someone?’
‘Yes, Mr Freeman,’ said Anna, ‘but I just need to hand in …’
‘You’re in luck,’ she said, reopening the door. ‘Bert, you’ve got your first visitor.’ Anna wanted to explain to the carer that she was delivering a letter, but she was gone.
An elderly man turned his head half-heartedly towards the door. Bert didn’t appear thrilled to have a visitor. If anything, he looked quite concerned. He was sitting in a large wingback chair and he leaned forward as Anna entered the room, narrowing his eyes sharply as he scrutinised her. It was a large square room with high ceilings and a long redundant fireplace. Too many armchairs had been squeezed in and all were attempting to point at the television. Each chair was occupied, mostly by a sleeping resident, but those who were awake watched Anna with great interest.
‘Hello, I’m Anna.’ She moved nearer to Bert and wished there was somewhere for her to sit down and be slightly less conspicuous. Bert didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘I popped in to give you this,’ she said, presenting him with the letter.
‘I don’t know anyone called Anna,’ said Bert, ignoring the letter in Anna’s outstretched hand. She placed it on the arm of his chair.
‘No, you don’t, but the letter explains everything.’
‘Seeing as you’re here, why don’t you explain everything?’ asked Bert, sinking back into the armchair, his face dour.
‘Okay.’ Anna took a breath. ‘I just wanted you to know that Maurice has got a new home and he’s very happy.’
Bert sat forward abruptly. ‘Are you from the cat prison?’
Anna was taken aback by Bert’s turn of phrase. ‘No, I’m not from the cat rescue. I’m the person who’s given Maurice a new home.’ Anna finished with her warmest smile. The old woman next to Bert had woken up and she was leaning forward too as she fiddled with her hearing aid.
‘You took my cat?’ Bert’s voice was rising.
‘Well, I chose him,’ said Anna, struggling to maintain her smile. This was uncomfortable and unexpected.
‘They had no right to let you take him. He’s my property!’ Bert’s pale face swiftly coloured up as his volume increased.
Within seconds everyone in the room was awake and a whistling broke out from another nearby hearing aid. Anna felt the elderly eyes all fixed on her. ‘But when you moved in here, you signed him over to the rescue.’ Anna liked to stick with the facts; it was frequently the best policy and she hoped it would work now.
‘This is temporary. I’m not staying here. When I go home, Maurice is coming with me.’
‘Who’s Maurice?’ asked the old lady next to Bert.
‘My cat,’ said Bert and Anna together. Bert ground his teeth together and Anna suspected they weren’t his own.
Anna reached for the envelope. ‘There’s a photo of Maurice I thought you’d like to see. He’s in his favourite place on the …’
‘His favourite place is with me,’ said Bert, folding his arms very deliberately and glowering at Anna.
She thought for a moment. For one thing, she didn’t know if Bert had all his marbles, but what she did know was that his house was up for sale and the cat was legally hers. ‘Okay, how about this? I’ll look after Maurice at my place until you’re ready to go home?’
Bert squinted at her and she wasn’t sure if that was progress or not. ‘What will that cost me?’
‘Nothing. He was unhappy at the rescue centre and he’s happy now. It doesn’t make sense to move him again. Agreed?’
‘How will I get in touch with you when I want him back?’
Anna fumbled on this question and blurted out, ‘I’ll come back and see you, and you can tell me then.’
‘Hmm,’ was all Bert muttered. He broke his stare for the first time and looked around the room. ‘What are you lot gawking at?’ There was lots of shuffling and one loud fart before most of the residents pretended to go back to sleep. Bert’s tone changed. ‘And you promise you’ll come back … Anna?’
‘Cross my heart, Bert,’ said Anna, and she meant it.
One sunny morning Sophie joined Anna for her walk across the park to the bus stop. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ asked Anna, pleased to see her friend.
‘The Kraken is having the kids because it’s a teacher training day and I thought I’d avoid the hellish parking for a change … oh, and I’d like to spend some time with my best friend.’
‘Excellent,’ said Anna, breathing in the May air full of the dewy scent of the lilac bushes.
‘And I wanted to have a chat.’ Anna wondered where this was going. ‘I think I have a crush on Hudson,’ said Sophie.
‘What?’ asked Anna, with a half laugh.
‘Don’t laugh, I mean it,’ said Sophie, getting teary. ‘I’m thinking about him all the time. If he talks to me I get all hot and flustered like I did when I was fourteen and Stephen Bethel used to sit next to me in Geography.’
‘That’s your hormones playing tricks.’
‘But it’s all the time, Anna. And I keep dreaming about him.’ Her eyes wandered off to somewhere near the pond. ‘It’s great stuff. Really sexy. If I could film my dreams I’d make a fortune …’
‘La, la, la, not listening,’ chanted Anna, putting her fingers in her ears until Sophie stopped talking.
‘I thought you’d understand.’ Sophie’s bottom lip wobbled.
‘Really? Me? I can’t even bring myself to like Hudson, let alone drool over him. Plus, he’s a gay man in a committed relationship.’
‘But you’re my friend.’ Sophie coughed to disguise the choke of emotion.
Anna gave her arm an affectionate pat. ‘Yes, and you are mine. Though Dave’s my friend too. How would he feel if he knew about this?’
‘I can’t help my dreams. And even if I told Dave that I fancy Hudson, he wouldn’t be bothered because who’s going to fancy me.’
‘You’re gorgeous.’
‘So’s Hudson. He’s perfect, isn’t he?’
‘I’m not keen and he definitely doesn’t like me. Yesterday he did a coffee run and I swear he missed me out on purpose. And then he didn’t tell me the risk review meeting was cancelled …’
‘It’s just you. Even the witches like him,’ said Sophie. Silvie and Janey were renowned for their bitchy comments and therefore known as the Witches of East Wing.
‘I heard he brought in Marks and Spencer’s biscuits. They’re easily bought that pair.’
They walked up the path to the main park gates and the bus stop and Anna noted the multitude of dog roses in bloom, as they passed. She let out a giant yawn.
‘Don’t,’ said Sophie following suit.
‘Sorry, someone kept me awake playing with his balls half the night.’
‘Tell me about it. Dave’s the same,’ said Sophie and they both burst out laughing.
After a good natter to Sophie on the bus Anna was feeling optimistic, but the sight of Roberta at her desk diluted her cheerfulness somewhat.
‘Morning, Roberta,’ she said as she approached.
‘Are you a feminist, Anna?’
Anna sensed a trick question but could only answer honestly. ‘Ye-es,’ she said cautiously.
‘You don’t sound very sure?’
‘I believe in people being treated as individuals regardless of gender.’
Roberta’s nodding indicated she approved of this response. ‘Apparently someone has complained that the central heating is set at a sexist temperature.’
Anna blinked slowly. ‘And what temperature would that be exactly?’
‘Cold enough for things to be noticed through material,’ said Roberta, her demeanour and voice mimicking a schoolteacher.
‘Nipples,’ mouthed Karl behind her back and Anna had to concentrate hard not to smirk.
‘I see. I guess it can be a bit chilly but I wouldn’t have called it sexist,’ said Anna, hoping that would suffice.
‘Okay. If you’re sure it’s not an issue,’ said Roberta. ‘Ladies don’t start fights, but they can finish them,’ she added, with a tip of her head. Anna was squinting with the pressure of trying to work out what the hell she meant. ‘It’s a quote,’ explained Roberta.
‘Right.’ Anna had no idea which feminist icon would have said that but thankfully Roberta was about to enlighten her.
Roberta leaned in close. ‘Marie.’ Anna was still looking blank. ‘From The Aristocats.’
‘Of course,’ said Anna, trying hard to ignore Karl’s huge grin.
It was another quiet night in for Anna as, now Maurice’s period of confinement had ended, she found she was often on her own once it got dark. He was a proper night owl and the living room window was working well as his exit route. It was too small for a human to fit through, and meant she didn’t need to get a cat flap fitted until it started to get colder. She flicked through the telly channels again but decided there was still nothing worth watching so she switched it off. She may as well go to bed and read. She had settled into life without Liam but it didn’t mean she had got used to being on her own.
Anna picked up her mobile phone and jumped slightly as it sprang into life. She was a little embarrassed about how pleased she was to get a message, whoever it was from. She looked at the screen in anticipation. It was a number she didn’t recognise, so she flicked to the text expecting to see some random marketing message but she was wrong.
It read: Can’t wait to get down and dirty with you tomorrow. Looking forward to catching up over lunch too. C.
Anna stared at the message; clearly it was a wrong number. She crafted what she hoped was a suitable reply: Hi, C. Thanks for the offer but I think you’ve got the wrong number.
Anna was sitting huddled over the phone waiting for a reply. She’d had wrong phone calls before but never a text. It was quite funny really – she wondered how much the other person would cringe when they realised their mistake. After five minutes she felt ridiculous for sitting with her phone in her hand, waiting for a reply from a wrong number. Why would they respond? They’d resend the message to the right person and be a little more careful when texting next time. Then the familiar little beeps came and she hurriedly opened the message: How embarrassing. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I hope I’ve not offended you. C.
Anna wondered if C might actually be a girl, because how many men would bother to respond? She suspected not very many. But seeing as they’d been nice enough to reply, she sent them another text: Not a problem, I’m pretty resilient. Enjoy your date tomorrow.
A response came straight back this time: Pretty and resilient is an interesting combination. Tomorrow not as exciting as it sounds. Helping a friend clean their patio. C.