She grabbed her laptop and quickly navigated to the school website. They may not have closed. If she could just get Jack there, if the buses were running, she’d be all right.
But no. On the homepage there was a stilted little note from the principal citing extraordinary circumstances, well-being of students and staff, health and safety, yada, yada . . . Absolutely fine for all the middle-class mums like Anastasia who didn’t have proper jobs anyway and would be doing snow-related, cool, educational stuff with their kids that lent itself to cute, Instagrammable photos. Just to punish herself, Kate checked out Anastasia’s Instagram account. Yup, there it was, cute kids in pajamas collecting carrots and bobble hats for the snowman they were going to build in the garden after homemade waffles for breakfast. People like Anastasia didn’t have bosses who were looking for an excuse to terminate a contract.
She picked up her phone and wondered whether to text Helen or call. She called.
“I’m so sorry, darling, I know exactly what you’re going to ask,” she said, before Kate had even spoken.
“And . . . ?”
“We’re all in the same boat. I’ve had calls from pretty much all my other parents. It’s first come, first served, unless I normally do Tuesdays for you.”
“Which you don’t.”
“Which I don’t,” Helen agreed with regret. “And you know I’ve got my quota. Ofsted will have my guts for garters if I go over.”
“I know, I know. That’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll work something out.”
With a sinking heart, she called work next. Using the direct line for the Human Resources department, she was surprised not to get voicemail but a human—more specifically, the human who had been so crushing and discouraging when she had talked about her contract the other day.
“Kate,” Sarah said, not unkindly. “Can I guess?”
“I’ve tried really hard,” said Kate. “There’s just no way I can get childcare, everyone’s completely booked . . .”
“So, what you’re saying,” she replied, “is that you’re too ill to come in today.”
“It’s looking after Jack that’s the problem. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Sarah said, heavily. “You’re vomiting. You probably ate a dodgy prawn. Better still, it’s viral and to avoid spreading it you should probably take a couple of days off. At least.”
“I should?”
“You should. However, you are predicting a miraculous recovery just in time for the end of the period you can self-certify, by which I mean the period where you can tell us you’re ill without proof from your doctor.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
“And what is the timing of my miraculous recovery exactly?”
“Well, it has to be within five working days, so don’t take the piss or anything,” Sarah muttered. “I’ll see you later this week. Enjoy.”
On putting down the phone, Kate’s spirits lifted.
“So, turns out it is a day off, for both of us,” she said to Jack, “and let’s start with a nice, warming breakfast, eh?”
“Porridge?” he said, doubtfully.
“Porridge.”
His face fell. “Not pancakes?”
“What? Pancakes on a Tuesday?” exclaimed Kate, with a fake shocked expression.
Jack wasn’t fooled. “Yeah!”
“Oh, go on then. Brush teeth first please.”
While he ate, Kate considered her options. Which were sadly limited. There was very little traffic outside and the cars were having a terrible time, creeping along cautiously. They were definitely slipping and sliding on the corners and this made her nervous about taking Jack out walking anywhere. The buses didn’t look as if they were running. They were quite a way from any really good parks. The one just up the road was tiny and generally full of dog poo, which was even harder to avoid with snow to camouflage it until it was too late. To top it all, she had left her woolly hat at Daniel’s boat yesterday and didn’t have another one. It was going to be cold. She pondered, sipping her tea slowly.
“Kate? Kate?” came the cry up the stairs. She recognized the voice. It was her landlady, the launderette owner, Mrs. Akintola.
“I’m in my pajamas,” she shouted back.
“Better and better, darlin’,” the voice shouted back. Kate opened the door.
“Ah, there you are, dear. I have a handsome young man here, asking for you.”
“Mrs. Akintola, you shouldn’t have,” she joked. “It’s not even my birthday.” She assumed the older woman was going to produce one of her apparently innumerable handsome sons, probably to go up and fix the dripping showerhead Kate had mentioned the week before. It might not be a brilliant flat, but Mrs. Akintola was pretty good on the ongoing repairs.
“I’m sending him up,” she said, standing to one side, but instead of the smiling face of Dwayne, Daryl, or the other son, whose name Kate could never remember—Dorian?—to her immense surprise the man who appeared was Daniel.
Well, I knew it was someone beginning with D, she reflected. “What a surprise!” she said aloud, standing aside as Daniel arrived at the top of the narrow stairs and awkwardly raking her fingers through her thick blond hair. She was sure she looked a sight.
“I thought you’d need your hat,” he said producing it out of his pocket with a flourish. “You’ve been trying to get rid of it, haven’t you? Be honest . . .”
“Certainly not, I am extremely attached to my hat,” she protested. “I was just thinking how sad I was that I left it behind, but I wasn’t expecting this marvelous delivery service. How did you even find me?”
“Sorry, I hope it’s not too weird of me,” he said, waving to Jack, who sat at the tiny table with a forkful of pancake on the way to his mouth. “You said you lived above a launderette in St. Peter’s Road and I checked on Google. There’s only one launderette in the area so my chances were pretty good.”
“And you talked your way around Mrs. Akintola.”
“That wasn’t hard. I think she liked me. I think she thinks there might be something going on between us,” he added cheekily.
“Yeah, well, there isn’t,” said Kate firmly, but with a hint of a smile. “Tea?”
“Builders’?”
“Definitely.”
“Thank God for that. Yes, please.” He went over to Jack. “Nice to see you again, mate,” he said holding out his hand just as if he were meeting another bloke down the pub.
“Nice to see you too,” said Jack in reciprocation, holding out his hand for a firm, decisive handshake.
“I brought your mum’s hat,” he said, in a factual, no-nonsense exchange of information.
“We’re going out in the snow,” responded Jack in a similar vein.
“Good idea. Have you decided where?”
“That’s slightly the point,” admitted Kate. “There are no buses, I suspect, and there’s not much green space around here.”
“Dare I suggest a cunning plan?” said Daniel, he looked inquiringly at Kate, hypersensitive to the slightest hesitation from her.
“Feel free.”
“I have a car.”
“In this weather? I’m not sure . . .” she said, remembering seeing the cars outside sliding around.
“I have snow chains.”
“In Bristol?”
“Yep.”
“Where—to quote you just yesterday—‘it never snows’?”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” he grinned. “Me and Zoe used to go to this amazing place in North Wales and I bought a set of snow chains there once because we got caught out by snow in April, which we definitely weren’t expecting. Now I’m glad I did.”
“Okay, well, that’s good . . .” said Kate, still unsure.
“We can go to Brandon Hill, can’t we, Mummy?”
“That was exactly what I was going to suggest, dude,” said Daniel. “Gimme five.”
Jack wacked Daniel’s hand with enthusiasm.
“Hang
on, hang on . . . I’m sure Daniel’s got better things to do with his time.”
“Better things than going to Brandon Park in the snow?” he said. “What do you mean? It doesn’t get better than that.”
“Yeah, Mum,” said Jack, triumphantly, going to stand next to Daniel in solidarity.
So, this is what it’s like to have two parents to play off against each other, thought Kate, amused. He had been a bit too young or guileless to learn that trick when Tom was still alive. “In your pajamas?” she inquired, as close to admitting defeat as she was prepared to go.
“Tea,” she said to Daniel, handing over the mug as Jack scampered off to dress. His challenge was to find—on Kate’s instruction—a vest, shirt, sweater, fleece, and two pairs of socks. She hoped his waterproof trousers would still fit. Being short of money meant she dreaded waking up one morning and discovering too many things had been grown out of in one go. School shoes were bad enough, but it was having to replace gym shoes, wellies, and sneakers all at the same time that kept her awake at night. Trousers were habitually a bit too short. Long socks were a godsend for filling in the gaps; she never bought short ones.
“He’s great,” said Daniel, sitting on the sofa and watching, relaxed, as she moved around the kitchenette tidying away breakfast.
“Have you really got nothing better to do?” she said, sounding ruder than she meant. She genuinely didn’t want him to feel he had to.
“It’s not just your hat and the snow chains,” he admitted. “I’ve got the full snow kit in the car. Shovel, blankets, thermos flask . . .”
“We’re not in the Norwegian fjords,” said Kate with a smile.
“And a sled,” he finished, in triumph.
“A sled?” said Jack, coming back into the room, already looking hot in all his layers. “Coooool!”
“So, here we have a man who lives on a boat, in the middle of the city, and has snow chains. And a sled. Where do you put it all?”
“I have a lock-up garage,” he admitted. “You should see the decluttering I had to do when we sold my parents’ house a few years ago. I travel light now: nothing but the essentials.”
“Snow chains, thermos flask, and shovel-type ‘essentials,’” smiled Kate. “Who are you? Bear Grylls?”
“I’ve never been on a sled,” said Jack, staring, wide-eyed at the amazement of how well his day was now going with the introduction of this man, who had started turning up miraculously in his life with hugely covetable items like cotton candy and sleds.
Kate turned away, stacking the breakfast things busily, plates and spoons clattering.
Daniel touched her arm.
“Okay?” he said quietly.
She turned to him, bowing her head so he wouldn’t see her distress. Except he already had.
“I’m fine,” she said brightly, for Jack’s benefit, and then, sotto voce: “It’s just . . .”
Daniel waited, his hand on her forearm, a comforting weight.
“It’s just that Tom went sledding with him once. Only once when he was—what?—eighteen months old, perhaps. I’m sad he doesn’t remember, that’s all.”
He gave her a comforting squeeze.
“Anyway,” she said, briskly pushing her hair back from her face, “let’s be off before it melts, I’ll just get some snacks together.”
Even with the snow chains, Daniel’s car felt unstable on the side roads where the snow was still fresh. Kate sat, with her fists clenched, concerned that he would slide into one of the parked cars that lined the streets. The majority were still blanketed in snow. Clearly most of the population of Bristol was staying put today. Daniel did his best to stick to the main roads where the snow had already been turned to mush by the traffic. It took twice as long as it might have done to get to Brandon Park. When they got there, he maneuvered expertly into a space just vacated by another sledding family, yards from the park entrance.
“Look, Mummy,” said Jack excitedly, pointing.
The park had been invaded by families with sleds. Some children were sliding down the hills, just on black bin liners. Some had skiing outfits on, complete with sunglasses and salopettes, clearly from posh skiing holidays. That was a hundred pounds’ worth of clothes, put onto growing children, thought Kate. What must it be like to do that—not worrying about the clothes barely, or never, being worn? What must it be like to not worry about waste, about not being able to afford shoes for them, or how to pay for school outings? Actually, they probably bought the kit every year to go skiing. In France perhaps. Or even Canada, probably.
“Wake up, we’re here,” teased Daniel. “You were a million miles away. And not in a happy place either, by the looks of it.”
“Sorry,” said Kate, summoning a smile. “Thanks again for this.”
“No worries. Now, what do you reckon, Jack? Over there?” He pointed at one of the gentler slopes, where there was a well-established run of compacted snow and a stream of small children mainly with parents in tow, sliding down and trailing up the hill again to line up at the top.
“Or there,” said Jack, pointing in the other direction where teenage snowboarders were throwing themselves down a steeper slope. Probably one in three were crashing dramatically, to derogatory shouts from the others.
“Let’s maybe work up to that one, dude,” said Daniel.
Kate gave him a grateful look.
“I hope you’re going to have a go?” he said.
“I’ll just watch, if you don’t mind.”
Kate tagged onto the outside of the group of mums, who were weighed down with discarded possessions, draped about with coats, scarves, snacks, and drinks. She knew from summer day trips that there was a cool little café in the park too—a wooden building with sofas and six different types of coffee. She rummaged through her purse anxiously. She could just about do a few hot drinks and maybe a flapjack or something for Jack. It was the least she could do for Daniel, buy him a coffee.
“Did you see, Mummy?” shouted Jack, waving at her as he and Daniel arrived at the bottom of the hill.
Kate put two thumbs up and grinned back.
By the time he and Daniel had trailed up and slid down three times, Kate could no longer feel her feet, which was almost a relief. She knew they were wet through because her shoes were in no way waterproof. She hadn’t owned a pair of wellingtons for a few years now, since the old ones fell apart. She didn’t mind. She couldn’t bear Jack not being warm and dry, though.
“Do you want a go?” he called, as they joined her.
“Yes, go on, Mummy,” said Jack. “I really want us to all go down together.”
“Will we fit?”
“Of course,” said Daniel. “Me and Zoe have been on this sled. It was fine.”
Kate obediently walked up the hill and lined up.
“Come on,” said Daniel, sitting on the very back, legs apart. “You here, and then Jack on your lap.”
Kate positioned herself, between his legs, as far to the front as she could. There wasn’t going to be room for Jack.
“You’re going to have to get a bit closer than that, I’m afraid.” He put his arm around her waist and slid her back toward himself. “Sorry,” he apologized, awkward at the overfamiliarity. She could feel a blast of welcome warmth from his body heat, even through her coat and sweater. She allowed herself to relax back just a little.
“That’s better,” he murmured, his mouth right by her ear. “Now you, Jack.”
“Yay!” Jack jumped on and pulled his knees right up to his chest, and Kate wrapped her arms around him protectively.
“We aren’t going to hit anything, are we?” she asked, acutely aware that Jack would take all the impact if there was a front-on collision.
“No. I promise,” said Daniel. “Relax. Actually, cancel that. Don’t relax. Brace yourself!” And with that, he pushed off.
Kate screeched but, after a couple of seconds, her screech turned into helpless laughter as they bumped precipitously down the hill. They wer
e so low down, the ground felt as if it was absolutely racing past them. She hung onto Jack tightly as he giggled and shouted.
It seemed to go on forever but then, finally, they slowed a little as the hill flattened out. Daniel put out a leg to slow them and they slid around to a halt.
“Wow,” she said. “That was, unexpectedly, really fun!”
“I know. You should do more stuff like that.”
“So should you.”
“I need a child to justify behaving like one.”
“You can borrow mine, anytime. He’s loving it.”
“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that,” said Daniel, suddenly serious. He looked at her as if he had just thought of something, looked away and then back again. “But all the better if you’re there too,” he added, watching her face with a flicker of anxiety.
“Sure,” said Kate, a twitch of a smile curling one side of her mouth. She looked down at Jack. He was still game for another go, judging by his beseeching looks at Daniel, but she noticed his hands were mottled red and white and his rosy cheeks were set off attractively by slightly blue lips.
“You cold, darling?”
“No,” he said, sensing an outbreak of sensibleness which should be resisted at all costs.
Daniel sized them both up. “I’m freezing, mate,” he told Jack. “I could do with a hot chocolate, couldn’t you?”
“Awww . . .” Jack started, but Kate stayed him with a look. “Poor Daniel,” she said. “You’ve been working him pretty hard, you know, and I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea myself. Let’s go to the café to warm up.”
Seeing he was outnumbered, Jack capitulated. They joined a ragged trail of people heading to the café in the middle of the park. The windows were running with condensation and the outside seating area was deserted, the plastic chairs and tables capped with white snow, most of it marked by the sweeps of little hands collecting it up for snowballs. There were a couple of desultory attempts at snowmen, but mainly the focus was on getting inside and getting warm.
In the long line, Kate noticed Jack hopping from foot to foot.
“Is that the wee-wee dance?” she whispered.
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