Picnics in Hyde Park

by Nikki Moore

  ‘Uh-huh,’ he agreed, tugging her along.

  Zoe laughed at his eagerness and they broke into a jog. Stepping over the raised lip of the fountain and jumping into the water, Zoe sucked in a breath. It was clean and fresh but frigging freezing, her toes immediately numbing and a line of ice lapping against her calves.

  ‘Jeez,’ she breathed. ‘It’s a bit cold isn’t it?’

  Jasper scrunched his face up and broke away. ‘Don’t care,’ bending down he scooped up a handful of water and threw it in the air.

  ‘Nooo,’ Zoe squeaked, stepping back as the droplets rained down on her. ‘Urgh.’ She stopped, turning her face to the sun and feeling the slight breeze drying the water on her skin. ‘Actually, that’s quite refreshing,’ she smiled at Jasper. Peering back over her shoulder to check Aimee was all right, the girl waved at her reassuringly, looking less troubled than before. That was good. She faced Jasper again, who was now running back and forth through the water, churning up waves on either side of his legs. ‘Guess what?’ she asked, squatting to plunge both hands into the water as the boy paused to look at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Water fight!’ Flipping both hands up, she sent a shower of water over him, soaking one side of his shorts.

  ‘Hey!’ Chortling, he danced out of the way. ‘I’m not in my swimmers!’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she grinned, pleased to see him have fun, ‘you can change into them later and we can put those to dry on the fence like other people have, while we have lunch.’

  ‘Cool.’ Jasper grinned in return, and sent a cascade of water over her with a light kick, plastering her short, white summer dress to one thigh.

  He backed away as she growled and pounced towards him with dripping hands.

  They played for a few minutes, chasing each other, careful not to slip and fall in the fountain, hooting and splashing around. Zoe glanced at Aimee a few times to make sure she was okay, and on each occasion the girl was either watching them with a tiny smile or gazing out along the Serpentine.

  Three screaming children ran past Zoe and Jasper, two boys and a girl yelling at each other to stop but continually spraying each other with water, before turning and scampering back past. ‘Play with us,’ one of the boys slowed, arching an eyebrow at Jasper and curling his hand into a come here gesture. He looked about seven or eight but had the confidence of an older child.

  Jasper swivelled his head to look at Zoe. ‘Sure,’ she agreed, sitting down on the granite lip of the fountain and stretching her legs out in front of her. ‘Go.’ Her lips curved as she watched Jasper join in with the group, instantly flicking water at the girl, who also looked a few years older. The other boys gave a cheer and joined in and Zoe wondered if the girl was going to hightail it or start crying but instead she charged at them, guffawing and lifting her legs in ever higher kicks that sent water spraying in all directions.

  Zoe rested back on her arms and studied the circle of the fountain as Jasper played happily. Wider at some points and narrower at others, one section of water was tranquil and on the opposite side the walls curved and tiny waterfalls cascaded over small steps or jets of water bubbled up in the stream. The space in the middle of the fountain was grassy, though some paths ran along the inner edge and one intersected the middle, and a few trees dotted around provided some shade from the relentless sunshine. Princess Diana was engraved into one of the fountain walls just above the surface of the water. Scores of kids were mucking around, leaping in and out of the fountain, scampering down the mini-waterfall, sitting in the water and swirling their hands through it, some in swimming costumes and others in vest and knickers. Children’s laughter and shrieks floated on the air and somewhere a mother called out that lunch was ready. Soft grass cushioned Zoe’s hands, and the meaty smell of sausages drifted past from a nearby family who were unwrapping onion-filled hot dogs from crinkled foil. It was noisy but lovely and Zoe exhaled, relaxing a notch at a time. She was suddenly glad she’d returned to the UK.

  Her stomach growled as the tangy scent of mustard from the hot dogs filled her nostrils. Five more minutes and she’d tell Jasper it was time for lunch. Tilting her head to the left, she cast an eye at the spot where Aimee was sitting and was shocked to see the hamper and her bag abandoned on the grass, the girl nowhere in sight.

  Shooting up, Zoe gulped, scanning the grassy area. Fear lurched in her stomach. Where the heck was Aimee? She should be there, sat down. Oh my god, what if she’d lost her? What if she’d wandered off and couldn’t find her way back or someone had taken her? She’d only looked away for thirty seconds. This couldn’t be happening. Tendrils of anxiety wrapped themselves around her ribs, squeezing tight. Eyes focusing on the area inside the grass, she examined each group of people in turn, trying to see if a little red-haired girl with narrow shoulders was among them. Nothing. Shifting her attention to the fountain, she looked all the way around it frantically, searching among the cavorting children for Aimee, while making sure she knew exactly where Jasper was. Nothing, again.

  Lifting her hands, she cupped them around her mouth and shouted Aimee’s name, projecting her voice across the grass. She would never forgive herself if something happened to the girl, and neither would Matt or Jasper. ‘Aimee!’ she repeated in a bellow, mentally starting to plan her next steps. Grab Jasper, get her bag, alert a member of staff, call the police, call Matt—

  A flash of red just outside the metal fence caught her eye. She squinted, breath stuttering in her throat. Was it…? ‘Aimee!’ The person moved in response, and then a small hand lifted and waved. Oh, thank god. She was so relieved she almost cried, but held back. She didn’t want to scare the girl. Jogging over to Jasper, she motioned for him to come out of the water. ‘Sorry, Jasper. It’s time for lunch and we need to go and get your sister.’ She checked to make sure the girl was still in the same spot. ‘Come on. Now, please.’

  ‘But I want to play some more.’ The boy waded through the water, legs stiff, expression pleading.

  ‘You’ll have a chance to play some more after lunch, okay? Right now I need you to come with me.’ She smiled gratefully when he heaved a sigh and gave his newfound friends a double-shouldered shrug, as if to say what can you do?

  ‘See you later,’ he waved to them.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, as she helped him out of the fountain. Hurrying past their belongings with Jasper traipsing along behind her, she opened the gate nearest the banks of the Serpentine and urged Jasper to follow her over to his sister. The girl was standing next to a statue of a stork or some kind of bird with its neck arched over, beak resting against its wing. Made out of a greeney-blue marble, the statute was graceful and communicated a sense of peace. Set into the plinth at its base was a silver coin slot, encouraging people to donate to the park and education centre. Radiating from that were loops of end to end metal plaques encircling the statue in long looping lines set into the ground. They were filled with inscriptions. Some had a simple name, others a longer message with dates.

  ‘You worried me, Aimee,’ Zoe clasped the girl’s shoulder in a light grip, keeping her tone non-confrontational. ‘I didn’t know where you were. We agreed you would stay by our stuff, remember?’

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’ The girl didn’t lift her head, staring intently at something on the ground.

  ‘That’s all right. Just don’t do it again please.’ Letting go of Aimee’s shoulder, Zoe put a hand on her own chest, echoes of the piercing fear bouncing back on her. ‘It’s important that I always know where you and your brother are. I have to make sure that nothing bad happens to you.’

  ‘Because you’re our nanny and you’d get in trouble?’ Jasper questioned, cuddling into her side and looking up at her with big green eyes, so much like his dad’s. ‘Or ‘cause you like us?’

  Returning his trusting gaze, something in the region of Zoe’s heart squeezed and then flipped over. She didn’t give a toss if she got in trouble, she realised. It was about keeping
them safe, wanting to protect them from all the bad things in the world. She never wanted to see them hurt, or sad.

  Oh no, she was falling utterly in love with Matt’s kids. This was not supposed to happen. It never had before.

  ‘A bit of both,’ she choked out, hugging him close. ‘But anyway,’ breathing in deeply for composure, ‘that’s not the point. You both need to stay near me. Got it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jasper replied in a piping voice as his sister mumbled her own agreement.

  ‘Good. What are you looking at, Aimee?’ Zoe narrowed her eyes at the floor.

  ‘Mummy,’ Aimee pointed to a tiny metal plate in a ribbon of them. Helen Reilly. Gone Too Soon. 04-06-12.

  Zoe could make out the sheen of tears in Aimee’s eyes.

  A piece of mummy, the girl had said. She supposed that to a child who’d lost a parent at four years old that must be what the engraved memorial plate seemed like.

  ‘Ahhh,’ Zoe nodded. ‘That’s nice.’ Yet the idea that Matt had been sweet and sensitive enough to remember his wife in this way, in a place they’d been happy as a family, a place that was close enough to home that his children could visit it if they wanted to, jarred with the image of him firing and throwing Mel out. It didn’t fit. She had to make it a priority to try and find out more about what’d happened between Stephen, Melody and Matt.

  ‘What’s nice?’ Jasper tugged on her dress. ‘And where’s Mummy?’

  Seeing the panicked expression on Aimee’s face, Zoe motioned to the plaque. ‘There’s a little rectangle of metal there with your Mum’s name on it. It’s a way of remembering her.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jasper glanced at it quickly, but it obviously meant nothing to him as he turned to watch the other children playing in the Princess Di fountain. He was possibly too young to understand the significance of it. Neither did he ask what the numbers were. Zoe assumed they were the day Helen had passed away, yet didn’t memorials usually have the dates of someone’s lifespan on them, to celebrate the life they’d lead, rather than focusing on the day they’d lost it? Also, where was the usual wording about being a wonderful wife and loving mother?

  The plaque raised all sorts of questions Zoe shouldn’t want the answers to.

  ‘Are you ready for lunch now, Aimee?’ she queried. ‘We can come back afterwards if you want.’

  The girl lifted her head and scrubbed both hands over her damp cheeks. Something tugged in Zoe’s chest again.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Aimee met Zoe’s gaze directly, ‘I feel better. It was nice to see her. I told her things in my head. I’ll eat lunch and then I’ll play in the water with Jasper, while you sit down and rest,’ she finished solemnly. ‘But can we come here again? Maybe we can come back on Sundays, like we used to before?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Zoe gritted her teeth to stop from bursting into tears, the bittersweet comments taking her back to a time when she’d been caught in that awkward age between child and adult and had lost both parents at once. She’d been the bigger sister too, like Aimee. Memories flashed past. Melody’s smaller hand slipping into hers as they stood in Ruth’s shadowed porch, waiting to start their new lives. The lemony smell of her mum’s hair and then the absence of it. The deep timbre of her dad’s voice as he told them all a lame joke. The sticky, tangy multi-coloured Opal Fruits (she’d never get used to calling them Starbursts) her parents used to pass to them in the back of the Fiat on long car journeys. She swallowed down the aching lump in her throat. Her life seemed to be a catastrophe of losses of some sort or another. Her parents, Henry, and now Greg. No. She was getting maudlin. That wasn’t who she was. ‘Right then,’ she said brightly, ‘lunch.’

  Swinging around, she put her back to the Serpentine Bridge curving over the water and the people enjoying the sun, pedalling lazily in blue pedalo boats.

  Grasping both children’s hands she took them back into the memorial fountain grounds, unfurled the blanket from the hamper, and brusquely set up their picnic. The question of what to do about the attachment she was forming to the children would have to wait.

  Half an hour later, Zoe lounged on her front on the blanket, chin propped on her hand as she watched the kids play in the water. Replete after a generous lunch of sandwiches, chicken, crusty sausage rolls, fresh fruit, cheese, mini scotch eggs, coleslaw, potato salad, crisps and juice, she felt a drowsy contentment stealing over her. She’d have to be careful not to fall asleep with the sun’s warm rays pulsing down on her head. It was so lovely to lie here and watch Aimee playing with her brother. It was even better when she went one step further by talking to the girl who Jasper had been splashing earlier on, the two other boys rushing over to join in with the conversation.

  When her eyelids drifted shut and her chin slid off her palm, she forced herself to sit up to stay awake. Grabbing her mini laptop from her handbag, she opened the lid and created a new Word file, glancing up to check the kids were playing nicely. Pausing, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth before starting to type.

  The Truth About Matt Reilly

  It’s well known that infamous London-based music producer Matt Reilly is fiercely private and camera shy. He never gives interviews to the press, and seems uncomfortable at public events, preferring the focus to be on his artists. In an exclusive story, the girl who was his nanny for X months shares a kiss and tell story about his love life, his relationship with his two children and his ruthless work ethic.

  Stopping, Zoe went back and deleted the part about the kids. It didn’t feel right to talk about them. What could she say about his love life from what she knew so far?

  Claiming not to have dated anyone seriously since the tragic death of his wife three years ago, Matt told his nanny that most of the women who accompanied him to social functions were friends or fellow celebrities seeking publicity, agreed via his PR Officer. However, we can exclusively reveal that he did in fact have arrangements for sexual-

  Zoe paused again, a sick feeling swirling in her stomach. This felt wrong. Hearing her phone ping with a message, she hit the Save As button and named the file Nannygate before shutting down the laptop and shoving it in her bag. Retrieving her mobile at the same time, she cast a quick look at the kids before opening the text. Surprised it was from Matt, who hardly every contacted her during the day, she stood up and moved closer to where the kids were frolicking in the fountain.

  Hi, just wondered

  when you’ll be

  back? May join

  you for dinner. M.

  She was insanely pleased. He hadn’t joined them for a meal since the day Sadie had dropped round. The flutter of excitement she felt at the thought of them all sitting down together was for the children, and only them. She wasn’t bothered personally, of course not. Wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of hearing about his day, seeing his face light up when he talked about his latest project or turned to listen to Jasper’s chatter, like he had when he’d tucked them up the other evening.

  That would be lovely.

  The kids will be happy.

  We’re having a picnic

  in Hyde Park atm. Back

  around 4 p.m. Dinner

  about 6 p.m. That ok? Z.

  She could see the message had been delivered and he’d read it, so was puzzled when there was no immediate reply. Going over to sit down on the lip of the fountain but out of reach from getting sprayed, she watched Aimee and Jasper play with their friends and tried to relax in the sunshine over the next half hour. It proved to be impossible because worry nagged at her stomach. Checking her phone repeatedly for a return text, she chewed her lip. It could be that he was just busy, but he’d read the message so why not take a moment to send one back? What was going on? She didn’t like the feeling she’d done something to upset him. Worse was feeling that way when it shouldn’t matter. She should want to upset him after treating Melody so horribly. Increasingly though she couldn’t square the person Matt seemed to be with the person she’d thought he was from his actions towards Mel. Mind y
ou, she acknowledged bitterly, she was hardly the best judge of character. For five years Greg had fooled her into believing he was one thing, when he’d turned out to be another.

  Finally she sent another message, unable to push away the squiggle of discomfort at Matt’s lack of response.

  Everything ok?

  Will those timings

  work for you? Z.

  A message pinged back a few minutes later.

  Yes, fine.

  See you later.

  There wasn’t even a sign off. The message was either brief or cold, depending on which way you looked at it. Checking the messages she’d written it dawned on her. How could she have been so dense? We haven’t been in three years. Aimee had told her. We used to go – me, Mummy, Daddy and Jasper.

  She’d casually dropped into a text that they were having a picnic in Hyde Park as if it had no significance. But of course it might upset him that she was with the kids in a place he’d come with Helen as a family and that the mention of it could cause him pain. God, maybe she should have checked that he was all right with her bringing the kids here. It hadn’t occurred to her, she was just so pleased that Aimee was continuing to open up and had thought it was a good step forward for her. Bugger, she’d have to try and speak to Matt before dinner. To apologise for her lack of sensitivity.

  When her phone received another text, she hoped it might be her boss adding a polite sign off. But it was Greg again, with a message very much like the other three she’d received over the last few weeks.

  Zoe, this is silly.

  Call me please.

  Lots of Love, G x

  She stabbed at the phone to close the message. He was having a laugh. She was silly? No, he was crazy to think for one minute that she would want anything to do with him. Besides, if he was that bothered about talking to her, he’d call directly, not hide behind a text. Not that she wanted to talk to him. But when it came to serious issues, texts were for cowards. She’d been unable to believe it when one of her American friends, a nanny who looked after the four boys a few doors down, had been dumped by text. What kind of person did that? When had it become acceptable to ditch someone you’d been intimate with, in love with even, in truncated written form? If you had something important to discuss with someone, you picked up the phone, or spoke to them face to face.