‘How old are the children in the after-school club?’ I asked.
‘The youngest is six, but most of our kids are between seven and ten. Not all the children come every week, but with some parents working till six we tend to have a core group of around twenty that are always here. You’ll love them – they’re a great bunch of kids.’
At the end of the corridor, we turned right and were just about to enter the school’s main hall when a voice behind us made Lizzie stop and look back.
‘Hey Lizzie!’
I turned to see first my cousin’s broad grin and then the equally smiling face of a good-looking man who was walking quickly towards us. He wore a blue and white checked shirt, navy-blue slacks and a navy-blue tie and reminded me a little of Jamie Foxx. It was difficult to tell how old he was as he wore his hair closely cropped, but his sparkly chocolate-brown eyes and easy gait made me instantly like him.
‘Hi Tyler,’ Lizzie replied and I noticed her face flush a little.
‘I was hoping I’d catch you. The PTA has given us the go-ahead for our summer art camp. So we should get together soon to begin planning.’
‘Sure.’ Lizzie moved her blonde hair behind her ear and nodded happily. Tyler smiled back and put his hands in his trouser pockets. And I was suddenly aware of a rather large part of my cousin’s life that I knew nothing about.
Tyler caught my eye and stepped forward. ‘Forgive me. I haven’t greeted your friend. Hi, I’m Tyler Palmer – principal of Sacred Heart.’
I shook his hand, which dwarfed mine. ‘Nell Sullivan. I’m Lizzie’s cousin.’
‘Oh sure, Lizzie told me you would be visiting us. Welcome to my school.’
‘Nell’s a baking wizard,’ Lizzie said, lifting the large grocery bags she carried to show him. ‘She’s making biscuits with the kids today.’
‘Well if there are cookies being made maybe I should hang around.’
‘You’re welcome to join us, Ty.’
A bell rang and Tyler checked his watch. ‘Uh-oh, you’d better hurry and hide, before we’re overrun. Nell, great to meet you. Lizzie, I’ll – call you?’
‘Yes. Speak to you later.’
As children began to spill out of the classrooms, their excited voices filling the space with energy, Lizzie and I ducked into the relative stillness of the school hall.
I fixed my cousin with a stare. ‘So that’s your friend Tyler, is it? Would I be correct in assuming Pablo the Goldfish isn’t the only man in your life?’
She blushed and stacked the grocery bags on a table by the wall. ‘You know very well I could never be unfaithful to Pablo.’
‘Don’t give me that. The chemistry between you two was strong enough to power the Large Hadron Collider.’
Lizzie gave me a look. ‘Hardly. Ty’s a lovely bloke and yes, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like him. But we’ve only had one date so it’s very early days.’
‘Only one date? That’s more than you admitted to me before. I thought he was just helping you with the after-school club curriculum. Judging by what I just saw, I reckon there are a few other things he’d like to help you with as well.’
‘Nell! What a suggestion! But I hope so.’ She laughed and I knew after this admission the subject was closed. ‘Right, we need to put these tables out around the hall, four chairs to a table. I’ll set up a long table here and that’s where you can demonstrate making the biscuits.’
‘Where do we bake them?’
Lizzie opened a door and showed me into a small room with four cookers. ‘This is the school’s home ec room.’ She stopped in the doorway. ‘It really is lovely to have you here, Nell. I don’t get to share this with anyone usually.’
‘Apart from Tyler …’ I ducked as an apron came flying in my direction.
‘Behave. And put that on.’
I picked up the apron from the floor and unfolded it to reveal the club name appliquéd in bright fabrics in the front:
Spoonful of Sugar Club
‘Like it?’
I nodded. ‘It’s perfect.’
At almost four o’clock the sound of voices by the hall’s double doors heralded the arrival of the after-school club children. Lizzie and I had set out the hall for various activities in what Lizzie called ‘Super Zones’ – for music, art, games, stories and baking – and more volunteers had arrived to prepare for the club. Miguel and Poppy Gimenez, a husband and wife team who volunteered in the group each week even though their two sons were now at college; Sam Yip, who had a daughter at the school; and Astrid Vinter, who had three kids at high school and one son at Sacred Heart. I was so impressed by their genuine enthusiasm for supporting the school’s activities and their positive attitude to everything. Unlike at home where friends with kids were forever bemoaning attempts by schools to get them involved, the volunteers of the Spoonful of Sugar Club – or ‘S-O-S Club’ as everybody else called it – told me they looked forward to every session and were eloquent about the value of the club for the children.
‘Being a part of the club has really made us feel like we’re serving the community,’ Poppy said, as we pinned up the Super Zone signs. ‘There was nothing like this when I was a kid. Lizzie’s brought something special to Sacred Heart and I love that I can make it happen for these children.’
‘Plus you spend every session feeling like a celebrity,’ Astrid laughed, as she joined us. ‘I get more hugs during the hour of S-O-S Club than I get in a year from my own family. The kids are so sweet – and they adore you just for turning up. That’s what I call job satisfaction!’
Lizzie smiled at her team. ‘Right, I think it’s time. Brace yourselves!’ She opened the door and a crowd of small children came rushing in, high-fiving the volunteers, flinging coats and school bags on the table by the doors and claiming seats in their favourite areas. In the middle of the chaos, Lizzie walked calmly around, ticking off names on a register. When all the children were seated, she raised her hands and the kids did the same, the noise fading in the hall.
‘OK, welcome everybody. Today we have a new friend joining us. Everyone say hi to Nell.’
She pointed at me and I waved back as a chorus of ‘Hi Nell’ rang out.
‘Nell is our baking queen,’ Lizzie grinned, ‘so, S-O-S bakers, you’re in for a treat.’
After the welcome, Miguel led the kids in a warm-up game. I took the opportunity to go into the small kitchen and set the ovens to the right temperature. Surprisingly I felt a little nervous but the prospect of supporting Lizzie far outweighed it. I prepared baking trays and collected bowls, wooden spoons and rolling pins to take back into the hall.
‘You’re English.’
I looked up to see a young girl standing in the doorway. Her black curly hair was scooped up into a high bun on the top of her head and she was dressed in a denim pinafore dress over a pink-and-white striped long-sleeved top, bright pink leggings and blue baseball boots.
‘Hello,’ I replied. ‘You’re right, I am.’
The little girl’s chocolate-brown eyes widened. ‘You speak like Mary Poppins!’
I laughed. ‘Do I?’
‘For sure!’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.’
She shrugged. ‘You should. I’m Eva.’
I was amused by the confident little girl smiling up at me. ‘Hi Eva, I’m Nell. Are you going to do some baking with me today?’
‘Just you try stopping me. But I should warn you, I’m excellent at baking.’
‘You are?’
‘Mm-hmm. Been doing it since I was five.’
‘Wow. And how old are you now?’
‘I’m eight. But I’ll be nine soon.’
‘Well then, that makes you an expert.’
Eva strolled into the kitchen and began to inspect the stack of baking trays. ‘Lizzie said you were coming. We all made you a sign. Did you see?’
I nodded. ‘It was very nice.’
‘It was too much,’ she replied, wrinkling her n
ose. ‘But Maya and LeSean decided to put on all the feathers. In my opinion, glitter would’ve been enough.’
I smiled. ‘Don’t you like feathers?’
‘They’re OK, I guess. For dress-up. But not for signs. Maya’s my best friend but she made a mistake with the feathers. Sticking them round signs is just dumb. You want these taking to the Bake Zone now?’
‘Yes please, if you don’t mind.’
Eva carried the baking trays while I took the bowls and utensils back into the hall. Lizzie grinned as she walked across to the baking area.
‘I see you’ve met Eva.’
‘I have. We’ve been talking about the welcome sign.’
‘Ah yes. There was a little bit of heated debate over its creation. Eva, can you be Nell’s second-in-command today? She’ll need a good helper and I know you’re great at mixing.’
Eva’s eyes lit up. ‘Can I?’
I nodded. ‘Of course. I’m definitely in need of someone who knows what she’s doing.’
‘Yay! I’m going to tell Maya. She’ll be so jealous …’
As she hurried away, Lizzie shook her head. ‘That’s our Eva. Generous to the last.’
‘She’s fab,’ I replied. ‘I like her a lot.’
‘Eva’s a great kid. I mean they’re all adorable in their own way, but there are one or two who just shine above the rest. JJ is one of our stars – he’s the little Chinese guy in the red baseball cap over there. So cute. And Eva is another. Sometimes I could swear I’m talking to a forty-year-old, the things she comes out with. I think she may just be wiser than everyone else put together.’ She looked over her shoulder to see Miguel wrapping up the game. ‘Oh, better go. Will you be OK to start baking in a couple of minutes?’
I looked at everything laid out on the table and a small flutter of nerves brushed across my stomach. ‘Ready when you are.’
A group of children crowded around the table, sleeves rolled up and excited eyes watching my every move. Eva helped me to hand out the ingredient packs and we went through the recipe step-by-step, the children’s smiles, arms and hands gradually becoming more flour-covered as the biscuit dough came together. Maya, almost the exact opposite to Eva with her pale skin and ash-blonde hair, watched my every move with breathless awe. Cutters were shared between them and gradually the baking trays filled with slightly wonky flower shapes, the top sections cut out ready for filling. When I gave each of the children a bag of crushed boiled sweets they looked at me as if I’d lost the plot, but I assured them that the recipe would work if they trusted me. They followed my instructions still unconvinced, with much hilarity when the pieces of boiled sweet stuck to their fingers.
‘I’m like a green monster!’ JJ shrieked, wiggling his green sugar-coated fingers in the cutest impression of a scary beast I’d ever seen.
‘It’s sticky,’ Maya giggled. ‘And my hands smell like strawberries.’
‘How is this ever going to work?’ Eva asked, holding up her hands covered in fragments of orange sugar. ‘Is this an English thing?’
‘You’ll see,’ I replied, taking the baking trays into the small kitchen and filling the ovens.
While we waited for the biscuits to cook, the kids and I cleared the Bake Zone station, the children’s excitement building as the delicious aroma of baking grew stronger.
‘Do they bake cookies in England, too?’ asked JJ, gazing up at me with chocolate button eyes.
‘Yes, we do. Except what we’ve made today we call biscuits.’
He frowned under his baseball cap. ‘They don’t look like the biscuits my grandma makes.’
‘Are those the ones you have with gravy and collared greens?’ Lizzie asked, arriving at our table followed by Astrid. They were carrying a stack of paper bags for the children to decorate before they used them to carry their biscuits home.
JJ nodded. Lizzie smiled at me. ‘I should’ve explained. Biscuits in America refer to savoury baked buns – like scones – and they’re eaten with a sausage-filled sauce, which is called gravy but isn’t like our gravy. I know, it gets confusing.’
‘Only if you’re from England,’ Astrid laughed. ‘We get it just fine!’
Ten minutes later, a bell in the small hen-shaped oven timer on the table rang out and the children clustered around me.
‘OK, kids. Are you ready to see some magic?’
A chorus of little voices answered. ‘Yeah!’
I felt a rush of excitement as I took the biscuits out of the oven and brought a tray through to the hall to show the children. The boiled sweets had melted into glossy, glass-like middles, making a multicoloured selection on the tray. I loved how entranced the children were, especially Eva who kept looking from me to the biscuits and back again as if she had never seen anything so wonderful. I asked the children to take their places around the table once more and carefully reunited the biscuits with their mini-bakers. As a final decoration, we dusted the edges of each biscuit with cinnamon sugar.
All too quickly, the after-school club session came to an end and Astrid came over to help me pack the biscuits into the decorated bags for the children to take home.
‘Have you had a good time with us?’ she asked.
‘I have. It’s been a lot of fun.’
‘Nell, look – I’m drawing you!’ Maya said proudly. The drawing looked more like a flower with a face than a person, but I was touched that she had decided to immortalise me in crayon on her cake bag.
‘Wow, that is amazing,’ I replied. ‘You’ve given me such a big smile.’
‘That’s because you smile a lot,’ Maya said, turning her attention back to her masterpiece.
It was such a small thing, but the fact that a child I’d only just met noticed how happy I was when I was baking meant a great deal. I had been happy this afternoon – and sharing my love of baking with the children had given me the biggest buzz.
‘It’s been good to have you,’ Astrid said. ‘The kids have been talking about you all through the session. It’s weird that they seem so surprised when the leaders have lives outside of S-O-S Club. When I brought my eldest daughter in last term they were amazed I had more kids – they only know my youngest. Plus, they adore Lizzie so it was a given they’d love you.’
‘I’ve been made to feel very welcome. It’s a great club.’
Astrid patted my arm. ‘It is. I hope we’ll see you again while you’re here.’
Soon, the parents began to arrive. Eva ran to the hall doors and returned with a beautiful woman in tow.
‘Mom – this is Nell from England. She talks like Mary Poppins!’
As soon as the woman smiled, I could see the resemblance between her and her daughter. ‘Eva’s been so looking forward to meeting you,’ she said. ‘She’s fascinated by England due to that movie. Hi – I’m Shanti.’
I shook her hand as Eva bounced around us, telling her mother about the ‘cookies that are called biscuits but not like JJ’s grandma’s biscuits’ and how she thought the ‘smashed-up candy’ was going to make a mess when it went in the oven. In between responding to her daughter, Shanti told me that Eva’s grandmother had given her Mary Poppins last Christmas and it had since become her favourite film.
‘I’m afraid Eva thinks everyone in England talks like Julie Andrews and wears old-fashioned clothes. I’ve told her that isn’t so.’
‘I sometimes wish London was a little more like the film,’ I replied. ‘It would be great fun if we had more people dancing on rooftops and talking like Dick Van Dyke!’
As they left, I felt a tug on the right leg of my jeans and looked down to see JJ gazing up at me, holding his hands out. Unsure how to respond, I looked at Lizzie who indicated it was fine to give him a hug. I bent down and was almost knocked over as JJ hugged my knees with all of his might. His mother, holding his coat, rucksack and bag of biscuits, laughed.
‘Whoa, you’ve just had a JJ hug. I hope you know what an honour that is.’
‘I’m very honoured,’ I replied, reach
ing down to pat his back. As they left I turned to Lizzie. ‘How cute is he?’
‘He is. I could just munch him up. And his mum is fantastic.’ She lowered her voice and stepped closer. ‘Amazing family, actually. They lost JJ’s dad to cancer last year and pretty much lost everything else – their home, the family business, their security. They spent some time living in an awful apartment block in Tenderloin, in a place that to be honest with you I wouldn’t walk through alone in the daylight, and JJ saw his mum attacked by a mugger just before Christmas. No child should have to see something like that – especially an eight-year-old. But Tyler helped them to find accommodation nearer the school and they seem a lot happier now.’
I stared after JJ and his mother, shocked by what they had endured. To look at the pretty lady and her adorable little boy doing giant steps out of the hall, I could never have guessed the horrors they had lived through.
Lizzie saw my reaction and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘That’s why I consider this club a privilege. We offer an hour of fun for the kids but more than that we offer security, constancy and a precious hour for parents where they know their children are safe. We can’t do much to influence their lives outside of this single hour each week, but while they’re here we can show them how wonderful they are and give them somewhere positive to have fun and enjoy just being children.’
When all the children had gone, Lizzie, the volunteers and I cleared everything away and gathered together in the middle of the hall. I was exhausted but happy, surprised by how much the children’s company had impressed me.
‘I hope you’ll join us again, Nell?’ Miguel asked. ‘The kids love seeing new faces.’
I loved the thought of spending more time in the frantically fun environment. ‘I’m here for another seven weeks, so if you’ll have me back I’d be more than happy to.’
Astrid, Sam, Poppy and Miguel responded with loud affirmations and I caught Lizzie’s proud smile as I agreed.
After leaving the school, Lizzie suggested we go to her favourite burrito restaurant, a few blocks away. Over huge burritos stuffed with spicy meat, cheese and rice, smothered in red and green chilli sauces, we chatted about the club, the children and the success of our baking session.
Take A Look At Me Now Page 11