A Walk in Wildflower Park

by Bella Osborne

  At last she flung open the dishwasher, which gave a final killer blow to her nostrils. It started to make her eyes water too. This was the problem. Sophie held her breath and rummaged at high speed until she found the garlic press. She opened it a fraction to reveal the remains of at least two plump garlic cloves that Dave had omitted to remove before merrily chucking the press in the dishwasher where it had been liberally jet washed with hot water. She ran to the back door, turned the key and flung the whole thing into the garden. She took a lungful of fresh air.

  ‘Fudging, bollarding, Arsene Wenger, Dave, you total bumfuzzle!’ She felt better for the tirade.

  ‘Hello?’ said a tentative female voice from the other side of the fence.

  Frigging brilliant, thought Sophie. Now was exactly the moment she didn’t want to meet the new neighbours.

  Anna spent the evening working on her laptop and was about to turn in when her phone flashed up a text. It was Sophie and she needed to vent so Anna called her.

  ‘You won’t believe what he’s done now?’

  Anna didn’t need to ask who; Sophie reserved a special tone for all things Dave-cock-up-related. ‘Go, on.’

  ‘He had one thing to do today. One thing. He had to take his children to nursery and school. That was it. And did he manage it?’

  ‘I’m guessing not.’

  ‘You guessed right. Because this is mother puffin Dave we’re talking about. Arlo has just informed me that Daddy took them to work today. Took them to work! And what’s more because Petal fell asleep and he’d let Arlo play on his iPad they were both quiet so he didn’t realise until the car alarm went off, with my kids inside!’

  It was difficult to know what to say. ‘Good job he has a car alarm.’

  ‘Exactly, although their poor eardrums. I only found out because Arlo came home with a slip from school saying he’d been complaining of a headache.’

  ‘Do you want me to come round?’ Anna shuffled upright on the sofa. She could do with someone to talk to.

  ‘No, the place smells like a garlic canning factory but that’s another story. But thank you. I feel better already having had a rant.’

  ‘It’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ said Sophie. ‘No, Arlo, you can’t sleep in your pirate costume …’ The phone disconnected.

  ‘Night,’ said Anna anyway and put the phone down next to her.

  Anna’s phone pinged with another text and she snatched it up. She tried to ignore the little bubble of unease at how keen she was to see if the message was from Connor. She was starting to really enjoy their brief exchanges. It was a little man fix without all the other complications. She was quite disappointed to see the message was from Dave.

  Any ideas for Sophe’s birthday?

  It’s in 2 days. Please tell me you have something planned. A x.

  Nope. I was thinking perfume?

  He was a lovely guy but he really was a grade A numpty. Here was an ideal opportunity to shine and what would he do? He would buy her whatever the John Lewis fragrance counter assistant recommended – as usual – and Sophie would add it to the ever-growing collection of perfumes she didn’t wear, a collection that was already taking over the bathroom cabinet. Anna knew Sophie was a Dior girl, which was unlikely to change. She texted back.

  If you get perfume only get Dior. She really wants an Orla Kiely washbag, so that could be a nice surprise. Or I could babysit while you two have a date night?

  Anna winced a little when she pressed send. She really hoped he went for the washbag because those kids were full-on and an evening alone with them always filled her with terror.

  You’re a star. Date night it is.

  ‘Bugger,’ said Anna, out loud.

  Is it the pink Dior she likes?

  NO. It’s J’adore. The one in the slinky bottle.

  Got it. Ta :)

  Anna had bought gifts for Sophie weeks ago and they were wrapped and labelled, ready for her birthday. She had two days to gird her loins ready for babysitting. She really was an excellent friend.

  Sophie’s birthday dawned and she was thankful it was a weekend. At least she didn’t have to get dressed if she didn’t want to. She was woken by the sound of something smashing downstairs and she groaned into consciousness. ‘You all right?’ she hollered.

  There was no reply. Sophie sprang awake. ‘Dave?’ She was already getting out of bed.

  ‘Yeah?’ he called back languidly.

  ‘Never mind,’ she said, and she flopped back into bed. She waited for a bit and was about to give up on hopes of breakfast in bed when the bedroom door flew open as if by magic and a strange presence started to pull at the duvet until Petal appeared. Her rosy cheeks were covered in what Sophie very much hoped was Marmite.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, heaving her onto the bed. Petal blew a raspberry and giggled. ‘Yes, I love you too.’

  ‘Tea?’ said Dave holding a mug out of Arlo’s reach as they both came in. ‘Happy birthday,’ he added giving her a fleeting kiss on her cheek.

  ‘Thanks.’ She took the tea and searched for somewhere safe to place it down but there really wasn’t anywhere so she rested it on her stomach.

  ‘Happy birthday, Mummy. We made you a card,’ said Arlo, thrusting a brightly coloured piece of folded paper into her face.

  Sophie studied it. ‘Thank you. This is amazing.’ She turned it round the other way. ‘Tell me what we have here?’ she asked, trying to make sense of the red and black squiggles.

  Arlo pointed at each item in turn. ‘This is you and this is your blood and this is a ninja who has sliced your head off. Your head is on the back.’ He pointed to a red circle.

  ‘That’s, um, nice.’ She glared at Dave who was smiling proudly. Arlo was obviously paying far more attention than they realised when Dave was playing games on the telly.

  ‘And what’s this?’ She pointed to what looked like an angry sprout.

  ‘The moon,’ he said proudly.

  ‘It’s very green.’ Sophie couldn’t help pointing this out.

  Dave looked over her shoulder. ‘It’s from Zelda,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you think—’ she began but Dave was already thrusting something under her nose as a distraction. It worked.

  ‘Here,’ said Dave. ‘We got you this.’ He handed her a present and a card.

  She was pleased with the perfume he’d got her, and amazed it was the right one. She opened the card and a slip of paper slid out. Sophie read it. Then she read it again and then she swallowed hard.

  ‘A personal trainer. You’ve got me a personal trainer?’

  ‘Yeah, for after you’ve had the baby. See? It’s for ten sessions and it doesn’t start until December.’ Dave appeared very pleased with himself.

  ‘You think I need to lose weight?’ She scanned her lumpy body. Her baby bump was showing now, nestled amongst the extra weight she’d not managed to shed after the other two.

  ‘You’re always complaining about wanting to be thinner. I thought this would help.’ He honestly looked like he thought it was a good idea to buy his pregnant wife personal trainer sessions. There was no hope for him. She put the offending details back in the card and closed it.

  ‘Very … thoughtful. Thank you. And we’re out for a meal tonight …’ she said, trying to focus on the positive. Anna was a star for saying she’d childmind for the evening. There weren’t many people Sophie was happy to leave her children with, partly because of the children’s welfare but mainly because she worried about being sued. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Wherever you fancy!’

  Sophie let out a little sigh. He’d not bothered to book anywhere, meaning the chances of getting into a decent local restaurant were unlikely and as she wasn’t drinking she’d be driving if they went further afield. ‘As long as it’s not a pub chain, I don’t mind.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anna was quickly remembering the horrors of the last time she’d babysat Sophie’s
children. Memories of the naked FaceTime call Arlo made to Karen and him eating a Christmas decoration flashed through her mind and she shivered. Thankfully the decoration had been made of bread and glitter but she hadn’t known that at the time. No, tonight was going to be different. She had planned what she was going to do and she was going to face it like any other project.

  ‘Here you go, Arlo,’ she said, passing him his pizza.

  ‘Don’t like pizza,’ said Arlo.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since Willoughby Newell said it’s made from blood and maggots.’ He screwed up his face.

  ‘But we know that’s not true. It’s tomato and cheese,’ she said, pointing at the sauce and topping in turn.

  ‘Tomato? That’s worse. Eurgh!’ He gave the plate a shove and it flew spectacularly across the table and launched the pizza into the pristine white wall, where it stuck for a moment before making a slow descent down to the floor, leaving a wide tomatoey trail in its wake.

  ‘Arlo,’ said Anna sternly, trying hard not to shout. But while she was recovering his dinner from the floor she heard a slight whooshing noise followed by the sensation of something warm landing on her back. She turned to see the remains of Petal’s mushed chicken and broccoli dinner dripping off her shirt and Arlo and Petal in fits of giggles. Great, she thought.

  After she’d cleaned everything down and fed Arlo fish fingers and Petal the rest of the mush and some fresh pineapple she’d found in the fridge she settled them down with a game on the rug in the living room. There was nothing within grabbing distance, which made her feel at ease for the first time that evening. It was a card matching game and Arlo even started to help Petal, who seemed to be keener to eat the cards than to turn them over, but once she got the hang of it she was turning them all over and clapping at how clever she was.

  Anna had resorted to putting her own clothes in the washing machine on a quick wash in the hope of getting out the food stains and was wearing Sophie’s dressing gown, which swamped her and dragged on the ground. She hated being short.

  Petal started to turn a card over and stopped as if someone had put her on freeze frame. Her eyes widened and her faced reddened.

  ‘Petal?’ asked Anna. ‘Are you okay?’ The child was rigid.

  ‘O-oh, poo time,’ said Arlo.

  This is fine, thought Anna. She’d dealt with nappies before; it didn’t faze her. ‘It’s not a problem, Arlo. You stay there and I’ll get her a clean nappy and the changing mat.’ They were in the cupboard under the stairs. She was literally feet away. What could possibly happen in the few seconds she was away?

  Anna walked back in to a poo disaster on a mammoth scale. Petal had stood up and something pungent and yellow had started to ooze out of the nappy in all directions, like an experiment gone wrong, and Arlo was at that moment undoing the nappy. As the nappy tabs parted the nappy fell onto the pale soft-touch rug and exploded like a firework splattering both the rug and Arlo.

  Arlo started to cry. Petal started to cry. And Anna really wanted to cry too. The thought of carrying Petal upstairs to the bathroom seemed fraught with risks. If she were to do the SWOT analysis it would be a definite no go. She thought fast and decided the sink was a better option. She scooped up Petal and took her into the kitchen, trying to ignore the trail of yellow gunk she was leaving behind. ‘Come on, Arlo, you come too and we’ll clean you up.’ Anna did the best job she could to clean Petal with the kitchen sponge one-handed whilst keeping a safe hold on her with the other. Arlo seemed to be doing an okay job of cleaning himself up with handfuls of kitchen roll but at least he’d stopped crying and wasn’t creating any additional havoc.

  Once there was no more yellow and Petal seemed to have finished, Anna decided the clean-up of the children was complete and dumped the sponge in the kitchen bin. Petal was happier now too and was playing with the dripping tap. Anna looked about her for something to dry her with. There was no sign of a hand towel. Anna opened all the drawers and eventually discovered the tea towels, so grabbed the first two on the pile and wrapped them around Petal. It was only when she noticed the oddly shaped chickens that Anna realised these were Orla Kiely tea towels – Sophie’s favourites. Anna gulped as she picked Petal up – and with a reluctant and poo-smeared Arlo in tow, she went upstairs to get him bathed whilst praying that Petal really had finished. She’d deal with the rest of the poo apocalypse later, she thought, averting her eyes from the living room as she went past.

  Sophie scanned the Wetherspoons menu for a third time. She wasn’t a snob but on the rare occasion they were going out without the children, and it being her birthday, she would have preferred somewhere a bit more special. She was wearing a top she’d bought from Boden the first time she was pregnant, back when they still had spare cash, and had traded in her comfy leggings for her not-so-comfy maternity jeans. At least one of them had made an effort, she thought. She observed the families and wondered how they got their children to sit and eat quietly. She struggled to get hers to do either of those things let alone both together.

  ‘This is nice, hey?’ asked Dave, closing his menu. ‘I’m having the pie.’

  She had one last scan at the standard pub offerings. ‘Fish and chips,’ she said. She should probably have the salad but it was her birthday after all and now she had personal trainer sessions to look forward to she didn’t have to worry. She wondered if Dave’s mother had suggested the personal trainer but she didn’t want to ask, knowing the answer would cause further issues either way.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Dave.

  Sophie studied him. Her husband. The man she’d fallen in love with eight years ago. And she tried to conjure up what she felt. Trapped was the word that sprang to mind and it worried her. How had she ended up here at twenty-nine years of age? This had never been the plan. At university she’d had ideas of living abroad, somewhere hot and exotic. She had a degree in Media Studies and she’d expected to be working in television by now, brushing shoulders with the stars of the small screen and perhaps even moving into films. She’d had big dreams, but somehow she’d been diverted from them. Dave had got the offer of a good job in Birmingham so they’d moved from Bedford.

  The move seemed to be the point at which her career took a back seat, before it had really even begun. Her job at the radio station didn’t pay well anyway and there was nothing similar available when they moved so she took a job at the insurance company just to tide them over. That had been six years ago. She wanted a little bit of the life she read about in the magazines – a little smattering of sparkle on her otherwise dreary grey existence was all she was after. Was it too much to ask?

  ‘Did you want another Appletiser?’ Dave asked and she shook her head, keeping her eyes firmly on the menu so he wouldn’t notice the tears welling up in them.

  Anna woke with a jolt from a nightmare where she was being chased by a poo-covered Petal who had a weird resemblance to Liam. She was overheating and quickly realised it was thanks to Maurice who was asleep on her pillow with half his body wrapped around her head like a furry hat. It was Sunday and she was very glad she was single and without children. One day she hoped to feel differently and she was sure if she ever found the right person to settle down with she’d change her mind but for now not having children was a relief. Thankfully neither Sophie nor Dave had been at all concerned when she’d relayed the story of poo-gate; it seemed par for the course in their house.

  She’d not had a chance to talk to Sophie on her own but as she wasn’t waxing lyrical about the evening out, Anna guessed it hadn’t gone well. She’d probably get the lowdown in the office tomorrow. Right now, a quiet Sunday stretched out before her and she pondered how to spend it. Anna hated wasting time or even the feeling she wasn’t maximising every minute. Ever since university she’d had this drive to squeeze the most she could out of life, because life was a fickle thing and you didn’t know when things could change. Anna never wanted to be in a position where she regretted wasting a moment, and she also
felt she owed it to her sister to make the most of her life, as Lynsey’s had tragically been cut so short.

  Sunday lunch with her parents was a given. She saw them pretty much every week and she liked that routine about her life. The option to step back into their home and not have to think about anything was like being wrapped in the softest blanket and cuddled, and some Sundays they actually did that when a good film was on and it was a bit chilly outside. She loved her parents. They’d all gone through hell when Lynsey died. A shared sorrow that had united them.

  Her relationship with them had changed over the years as she’d moved from childhood to the messy teenage years, and then flown the nest for university, but her parents had never let her down. She’d seen it happen with friends: big fallings-out, people not speaking, family feuds – but not in her house. The odd cross word and the occasional shouting match, of course, but through everything they had been her constant source of strength.

  She went for a long run in the park. She’d left it a little later than she’d have liked and the sun was high in the sky and everywhere was warming up fast. A mother duck let out a squawk of a quack as she ran near the pond and too close to a brood of small ducklings for the mother’s liking. She loved the freedom of the park. It was a beautiful oasis of calm and Anna wondered what it must have been like for the people who originally had it as their garden. She imagined having all the space to herself, although she would miss seeing the park regulars. There was a wisp of a man who walked his small terrier, Bosco, who was very friendly. A sleek elegant woman who walked a pair of pugs called Gainsborough and Stubbs – Anna always felt Stubbs had an understandably inferior look about him. A tall chap who had a snooty-looking Saluki named Malika. Anna had never seen a Saluki before, but had got to know Malika and warmed to her – she was nothing like her pointy beak-shaped face implied. She had no idea what any of the owner’s names were, only the dogs.