by Lucy Daniels
Mandy was talking again. ‘I’ve someone very special I want to introduce first,’ she said. ‘But remember what I said about being very quiet. Don’t move quickly with any strange animal and don’t touch any of them unless I say so, please.’ She turned to walk across the room and the children started to twitter. Neil put his thumb in his mouth and reached out with his other hand to grasp Susan’s. Susan gave the small fingers a squeeze.
‘Okay, all of you.’ Susan spoke clearly, raising her voice. ‘Settle down now. When Mandy comes back, we all need to listen carefully to what she says. For now, can you all sit down in a circle on the floor.’ The circle formed and they all sat down with crossed legs. They were behaving very well, despite their excitement.
A moment later, Mandy reappeared. Sky was trotting at her heel. Mandy sat down on a low chair, and Sky sat down beside her. ‘Now,’ said Mandy. ‘Does anyone know what kind of dog this is?’
Several hands shot into the air. Susan could see that Jack was bursting to give the answer, but Mandy pointed to Neil, who took his thumb out of his mouth. ‘It’s a Border Collie,’ he whispered.
‘Well done,’ Mandy said. ‘Yes, she’s a Border Collie and her name is Sky.’ She smiled, reaching out a hand to stroke Sky’s ear. The collie looked up at her. Susan didn’t have time for a dog, but she couldn’t help envying Mandy when she saw her and Sky together. ‘Sky used to live on a farm,’ Mandy went on, ‘but her owner became ill. He couldn’t look after his animals any more. Eventually we found them all new homes, but Sky was such a special dog that I decided to keep her. Now she comes with me when I go out to look after other animals.’
The class were enthralled. They were all looking at Sky, who was looking up at Mandy.
‘Would anyone like to stroke Sky?’ Mandy asked. Susan felt very proud as the children waited in turn to go up one at a time and pat the little collie. Mandy must be pleased too, she thought. She had spent so much time socialising Sky. A year and a half ago, it would have been unthinkable even to let the children near Sky, but now she seemed to be coping very well.
Having shown them Sky, Mandy led the children into the dog kennels. As they filtered in, one of the dogs, a small wiry terrier with a very long tail, rushed to the bars and started yammering. Two of the children stuck their fingers in their ears. Though she’d heard it before, even Susan found the racket hard to bear. Moving backwards, Neil slid his hand once more into hers. Mandy took a huge stride across to the door of the kennel. ‘Hush, Bounce,’ she said, and immediately the little dog stopped yapping and started to wag his tail, bouncing up and down. Mandy reached out a hand and slid the bolt open. ‘Now I’m going to get Bounce out,’ she said, turning her head to regard the children. ‘But I will need you all to be perfectly quiet. Can you do that for me?’ A couple of the children edged backwards, but most were nodding. Jack and a few others moved closer.
When he wasn’t barking, Susan knew Bounce was a really sweet little dog. She and Mandy had spent a lot of time planning this visit. She was very pleased to see how well most of the children were responding. They were obviously enjoying it and all of them had, so far, been polite and well behaved. Bounce was behaving well too, as Mandy had hoped. Susan knew that in spite of his good nature, Mandy was worried about finding a home for him with all the noise he made.
Once all the children who wanted to had stroked Bounce, Mandy led them all outside. There were two goats in the orchard and an ancient Highland cow out in the paddock. Then she brought them back inside and held up her hands to get their attention. ‘And now I have a surprise for you all,’ she said. Susan could see Mandy’s eyes were twinkling. ‘Even Miss Collins doesn’t know about this,’ she said. The eyes of the class swivelled Susan’s way and she raised her eyebrows and made an ‘O’ shape with her mouth. They giggled at her expression and then turned their attention back to Mandy. ‘I’m going to take you in to see some brand new residents,’ she said. ‘They were brought in yesterday. They’re only about four weeks old and they’re still with their mum. We’ll go in to see them, but please do stay back from the pen so they don’t get frightened.’
A wave of whispers ran through the class. Mandy turned and opened the door and led them into the small room off the cat kennel where she kept nursing mothers. The children filed in, their eyes wide. Susan followed them in last, then had to crane her head to see. In the kennel, looking very calm despite the invasion, was a sleek black and white cat. Snuggled into her side there was a pile of kittens. One of the kittens, black and white like its mother, stood up, stretched, then came to the bars of the cage, gazing out with fearless eyes. It put its head on one side, as if to see them better, then gave a piercing mew. As if there had been a signal, three more kittens stood up. There were, Susan saw, two more black and white, one pure black. The smallest kitten was last to wake. It lay close in to its mother, seemingly fast asleep still. With a lazy tongue, the mother cat reached out and started to lick it. It was pure white, Susan saw. Its fur was a little longer than the other kittens’ and when it finally opened its eyes, they were a pure bright-blue colour.
Susan had rarely seen the children so enchanted. She glanced over at Jack. He seemed unable to take his eyes off the cage. The little white kitten had now come forward and was sitting daintily at the front of the cage, its blue-eyed gaze both serious and inquisitive.
‘We’ve got a cat at home,’ Neil said. ‘She was a kitten when she came.’
‘I want a kitten,’ Christina piped up. ‘Please can I take one of them home?’
Mandy laughed. ‘They aren’t ready to go anywhere yet,’ she said. ‘They’re still far too young.’
Jack was still gazing. His big brown eyes were sad and Susan knew he was thinking about Marmalade. If she had found Marmalade’s loss difficult, it had been even harder for Jack. She wanted to reach out and hug him, but instead, with Mandy’s help, she led the class back out into reception. Together they began to get the children ready for the walk back.
It was already dark outside the window when the last of the parents arrived to collect their daughter. Susan waved them off, then closed and locked the door and walked back to the classroom. Just a few things to sort out, then she too could go home. Jack was sitting quietly, playing with the big wooden Noah’s Ark. It was his favourite toy and Susan stopped for a moment to watch as he marched a pair of giraffes along the edge of a shelf, down a pile of bricks and into the Ark. The classroom door opened with a click. Asa, one of the nursery nurses from the baby room, stuck her head round the door. Her dark-skinned face was serious, as ever, her black hair tied back in a bun.
‘I don’t know if anyone told you,’ she said, ‘but you had a visitor this afternoon while you were out.’
Susan frowned. ‘Who was it?’ she asked. It couldn’t have been her mum. Asa would have just said.
‘I don’t know who he was,’ Asa said, ‘but he was very good-looking and he asked for you.’ She was smiling, as if this should be good news, but Susan felt a stir of disquiet. Who on earth would come to the nursery looking for her mid-afternoon? Any of her friends would just have phoned, surely?
‘What did he look like?’ she asked.
Asa thought for a moment. ‘As I said, he was quite handsome,’ she replied. ‘Dark brown hair, brown eyes.’ She paused. ‘He said he was from York. An old friend, he said.’
Susan felt even more uneasy. Stalkery Steve was from York and the description sort of fitted him, though his hair had a lot of grey mingled with the brown. Would he really come looking for her like that? A shiver ran down her spine but she decided not to mention her worry to Asa. No need to jump to conclusions.
‘Thanks for telling me,’ she said. She kept her voice steady.
Asa smiled. ‘Hopefully he’ll catch up with you,’ she said. Susan nodded, her face bland. She wasn’t sure at all if she wanted him to.
Chapter Three
Susan threw her keys down on the little hall table and carried the two heavy shopping bags through
into the kitchen.
‘Here, Mummy!’ Jack came in behind her. He too was weighed down. He had insisted on carrying a third bag home, despite the fact he had to do so with his arms held high.
‘Thanks, sweetie.’ She took the carrier from him and set it on the side. ‘Don’t take your coat off,’ she reminded him. ‘We’re going over to Mr Gorski’s in a minute, remember.’ She pulled a carton of milk from the bag and opened the fridge.
‘Can I cuddle Coffee, Mummy?’
Susan smiled as she turned to reply. Mr Gorski was an elderly man who lived across the road from them. Coffee was his equally ancient Border Terrier. ‘I’m sure you can,’ she said. ‘But don’t forget to ask Mr Gorski first.’
Jack looked very serious. ‘I won’t, Mummy,’ he said.
Susan turned back to her unpacking to hide her smile. Jack was so very earnest about everything now, especially where animals were concerned. She stowed away the perishable food, closed the fridge, picked up one of the shopping bags and held out a hand to her son. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.
As they crossed the road and made their way down Mr Gorski’s front path, it began to rain. Still clinging to Jack’s hand, Susan rushed into the shelter of the porch. She rang the doorbell, then for good measure, banged on the door. Mr Gorski didn’t always hear so well. Inside, there came a volley of barking.
Jack turned and peered out at the rain and Susan half turned too. It was lashing: droplets bright in the light coming from the porch. Jack looked up at her. ‘Will there be snow by Christmas, Mummy?’ he asked.
Susan paused for a moment. One of Mr Gorski’s gutters was overflowing. The sound of water gushing onto concrete meant she had to raise her voice. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘But even if there isn’t, we’ll still have a lovely time.’
Jack looked unconvinced. ‘But how will Santa’s sleigh go?’
‘Christmas magic,’ Susan said quickly and firmly. Last year, she had indulged Jack’s Christmas beliefs and they had hunted for reindeer until the day Jack had decided to go searching alone in a snowstorm and got lost on the moors. The memory gave her chills. She didn’t want him to be disappointed, but she couldn’t help hoping that if there was snow it would be just a light dusting.
With a loud creak, the door finally opened. Mr Gorski stood in the hallway, beaming. His snow-white hair was carefully combed and he was wearing a warm-looking mustard-yellow cardigan. Coffee trotted rather stiffly onto the porch, her brown tail wagging. She reached up and licked Jack’s face as he knelt to greet her.
‘Hello, Susan. Hello, Jack.’ Mr Gorski stepped back to usher Susan in. They watched as Jack clambered to his feet, then scampered inside after the little terrier. Mr Gorski closed the door.
‘I’ve brought your shopping,’ Susan said.
Mr Gorski put a hand behind his ear. ‘Sorry?’ he said.
‘I’ve brought your shopping.’ She turned to face him, repeated her words and held out the bag.
‘Oh yes. Thanks very much.’ The old man smiled, then turned and shuffled away towards the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ he said.
Susan sat down at the little table that stood against the wall. She had got to know Mr Gorski well since she and Jack had moved to Moon Cottage. He’d been a teacher and he had lots of memories that he enjoyed sharing. Conversation had become more difficult as his hearing had worsened, but in every other way, he seemed spry and healthy.
Jack and Coffee trotted into the room. Coffee lay down, her pink tongue hanging out, and Jack knelt beside her.
Mr Gorski looked down at the pair, his eyes bright. ‘I’ve got a favour to ask of you, Jack,’ he said. Susan loved the way Mr Gorski spoke to Jack. He never spoke down or treated him as less important. ‘There’s something I need from the cupboard in the hall and I could do with some help.’ He smiled, holding out his hand. Jack stood up and followed. They returned a moment later, carrying a large, dusty-looking box between them. Susan wanted to laugh. Mr Gorski was almost bent double to let Jack ‘assist’. They set it down on the kitchen table.
‘You see, I usually go to my sister’s for Christmas,’ Mr Gorski explained. ‘So I don’t usually bother to decorate my house. But this year, she’s coming to me. So I’m going to … decorate!’ He lifted the lid up with a flourish. Threadbare tinsel topped a pile of faded baubles. A paper angel with a badly drawn face peeped out from the tangle. Mr Gorski’s face fell. ‘Oh dear.’ He looked over the contents of the box with a rueful grin. ‘I suppose it’s been a while since I used these …’
Susan laughed at his expression. ‘I’ll help you sort them,’ she suggested.
Jack’s eyes opened wide as Susan pulled out the first piece of tinsel. He loved decorations. ‘Can I help?’ he asked.
Susan peered into the box. Some of the baubles were broken. ‘There’s broken glass in here,’ she said, ‘but you can have a look at this and see if everything’s there.’ She pulled out a half-buried carton. The picture on the lid showed a miniature wooden Nativity set with brightly coloured, painted figurines.
Jack took it from her, eyes huge, face solemn.
Susan returned to sorting through the debris. Mr Gorski made the tea and then joined her. Most of the decorations were past their best, tinsel that had tied itself into a big knot and old cards that were brown and peeling at the edges. There were a few lovely unbroken baubles, though, and an old wooden toy train piled with brightly coloured presents.
Jack finished checking the crib scene and looked up. ‘They’re all there apart from there’s one sheep missing,’ he told Susan. ‘Can I play with Coffee now, please?’
Susan smiled as she took the carton. ‘Of course you can.’ She watched as he sat down beside the little dog and stroked her gently, then returned to her task. She pulled the last decoration from the box. It was a foil star that could be opened to make a circle. Half of it was so squashed that it didn’t even unfold. She put it into the almost-full bin.
Mr Gorski looked down at the empty box and the small pile of decorations that lay on the table. He shook his head. ‘I’ll have to buy some new things,’ he said. He lifted up the paper angel that had been near the top of the box. ‘One of the last classes I taught gave me this,’ he said. ‘Christmas was always the best time of year. The children made such lovely things for the classrooms.’ For the first time, his expression was a little melancholy.
Susan looked at the lopsided angel. It certainly had character. ‘Jack and I could make some new decorations,’ she suggested. ‘It’s years since I’ve made real old-fashioned paper chains. What do you think, Jack?’
Jack looked up. ‘What’s a paper chain?’ he asked.
Mr Gorski laughed. ‘It’s a special kind of Christmas decoration,’ he said. ‘Your mum will show you.’
‘Can we make snowflakes for the window too?’ Jack’s eyes were huge. He loved cutting out paper snowflakes.
‘Of course.’ Susan nodded. ‘We can make all kinds of things.’
Mr Gorski’s eyes were twinkling again. ‘So will you help?’ he asked Jack.
Jack’s sweet smile lit up his whole face as he looked over at Mr Gorski. ‘Yes please,’ he said.
Susan’s heart swelled. Making things with Jack was always fun and making Christmas decorations would be better still. She lifted her mug and drank another mouthful of tea, then glanced up at the clock on the wall.
‘We should go,’ she told Mr Gorski. ‘My mother’s expecting us for dinner. Come on, Jack, Grandma will be waiting. Say goodbye to Mr Gorski and Coffee.’
‘Bye bye!’ Jack said, waving madly across the table at the old man, and then giving Coffee another big hug.
It was still raining when Susan pulled up outside her mum’s house. Susan’s mother, Miranda Jones, lived in a rather grand villa on the edge of Walton. Many years ago, she had lived in London, working as a professional actor in a soap opera. She still popped down to London or Salford sometimes to appear on television, but now she mostly did voice work i
n Leeds and York. It meant she was free to be with Jack, she said; she didn’t want to miss him growing up. Susan pulled open Jack’s car door and he rushed across the gravel onto the porch and pushed the doorbell.
‘Hello, darlings.’ Miranda opened the door and flung her arms wide. Jack rushed into her embrace and she kissed him heartily. Susan smiled. Her mum still enjoyed the trappings and drama of her TV lifestyle. The dress she was wearing, though beautiful, seemed wholly unsuitable for a visit from a four-year-old. It was red and clingy. Her hair looked as if it’d had a team of stylists working on it as well. Yet Susan knew that if Jack spilled something or ruffled the exquisite hairstyle, Miranda would just laugh. She loved Jack so much. Susan still found it hard to believe how lucky she was. Without her mum’s help, she would be hard pushed to find any time at all for herself. Miranda let go of Jack, stood up and held out her arms again.
‘Mum,’ Susan said, stepping forwards into the embrace. She closed her eyes for a moment and was taken back to her childhood. Her mum smelled, as ever, of expensive perfume and Pears’ soap. She felt herself relax.
Miranda released her, touched a hand to Susan’s face as if she’d never seen anything more lovely, then bent again to Jack with a smile. ‘How gorgeous to see you both. Come on in. Let’s get that coat off you.’ She leaned over to help him with his zip. ‘Have you had a good day?’ She glanced up at Susan, who had taken off her own damp jacket.
‘Pretty good,’ Susan replied. ‘We took the class to Hope Meadows.’
Miranda opened her eyes wide and looked at Jack. ‘That sounds fun,’ she said.
‘It was!’ Jack told her.
‘And what was the best animal?’ Miranda held the sleeve of first one arm, then the other as Jack pulled out of his jacket.