Park sell-off plan is unfair, one letter was headed.
Greedy council has got it wrong, screamed another.
Hands off Furzewell Park! a third began.
My eyes widened as I sat back in my chair and began to read them all. Every single writer was not only against the proposal but absolutely furious about it. They accused the council of caring more about money than people, and of being blind to the lack of facilities in Furzewell for a proposed huge influx of new residents. Disgusted Furzewell Ratepayer challenged the council leader to come to Furzewell and look at the village himself as he’s probably never even been here, while Mr A. P. of High Meadow estate made the point that even the new residents were shocked at the plan. The park was one of the reasons we decided to move here, as we have two small children and loved the fact that they’d be able to play there safely, he wrote. There were even letters from people in neighbouring smaller villages, who’d been in the habit of driving to Furzewell to walk their dogs or just to enjoy the wide open space. If the council had bothered to look after Furzewell Park and maintain its facilities, it wouldn’t have been ‘underused’, as they claim, a Mrs Duggan of Little Blackmoor ranted. Lots more people would want to come and enjoy this lovely park if the grass was cut, the toilets were open and the play equipment was in better condition. Don’t tell us you can’t afford to do that, not when our council tax goes up every year.
‘Look at this,’ I called to Mum, who’d started to walk off to the kitchen. ‘All these angry letters about the park. I must tell the others.’
We’d set up a WhatsApp group for the dog walkers, and I used this now to message them all.
I know! Sara’s reply came back almost instantly. And there are even more on the Recorder’s website!
We need to act quickly, Amber messaged, while people are so worked up about it.
By the time the other two had responded, Sara had replied that she’d already drafted her letter to all the residents and was now emailing it to us to make sure we were happy with it before getting it printed off so that we could deliver a copy to every house in Furzewell. When I read her draft a few minutes later, I had to admit I was impressed. She had quite rightly asserted that most people never bothered to plough through too much text and in just a few lines had summed up our intention to fight the proposal, urging people to sign the online petition I’d now set up, to attend a public meeting the following week in the village hall, and meanwhile to make as much use of the park as they could, to prove the council wrong. Also to keep Bank Holiday Monday free if possible for a major event there – more details to be revealed at the meeting.
‘That was clever of her,’ I said to Craig later when we were walking the dogs. ‘Holding back some of the information, to keep them interested.’
‘And more to the point,’ he said grimly, ‘we haven’t got any more information yet. Getting this thing off the ground is going to be one hell of a rush.’
‘I know. But Sara’s really got the bit between her teeth. She already knows exactly what we have to do to conform to all the council’s rules and regulations about holding public events,’ I said. However reluctant I was to admit it, I couldn’t help admiring her for the way she was handling it. But Craig just laughed.
‘Yes, but all this – looking at council regulations, legal stuff, writing documents – it’s her forte, isn’t it. She’s in her element, if you ask me. And of course, she just loves to be in charge.’
I looked back at him, somewhat surprised. The teacher’s pet, criticising the head girl? Surely not. I only just stopped myself from saying, with childish glee, Oh, and here was I thinking you liked her.
Sara wasn’t with us on the walk that day. She’d said in one of her messages earlier that she’d be too busy progressing our campaign. Mia had come with me on her little bike, as she often did now on Saturdays, and was riding ahead of us on the wide paths through the park, stopping every now and then to look back and wait for us to catch up, calling out to the dogs and laughing as they trotted up to her, wagging their tails. Amber was walking just behind us with Simon, and I could hear them discussing, loudly and animatedly, the various posts people had left on the Recorder’s website about the park proposal.
Smartie was still on his lead – I never let him off until we were in the furthest area of the park, away from the paths and the areas where children might be playing. I looked down at him trotting along beside me, and smiled to myself, enjoying the way he kept a watchful eye on his doggy friends, as if he were aware that they were older and wiser than him and he should learn good canine manners from them. He was growing fast, his little legs now quite stout and sturdy, but he still had that adorable puppy fluffiness about him that melted my heart.
‘Cute little chap, isn’t he,’ Craig said, noticing my smile. He glanced from Smartie to his own Judy, walking obediently at heel with no need for a lead and a superior expression on her face. ‘Are you going to get him neutered?’
‘Yes, of course. The vet says six months is a good age for it.’
‘Good.’ He laughed. ‘Judy’s been spayed, but I’m not sure about Babette. We don’t want any shenanigans going on in the group, do we? Not among the dogs, anyway.’
I looked up at him – he was so tall I almost had to crick my neck to do so, despite my own height – and couldn’t help noticing how his laughter caused little creases around his eyes and mouth. He really was a very attractive man. Realising I’d been staring at him, I felt myself blush and looked away quickly, but not before he’d given me another little grin and added in that teasing voice of his:
‘Shenanigans among the humans, on the other hand, are fine, of course.’
‘You think so?’ I countered, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on Smartie now.
‘Of course. Human shenanigans are much more civilised than dog shenanigans,’ he said. ‘Humans do at least get a room.’
‘Well, I’d hope so.’ I smiled. I’d recovered slightly now from my embarrassment and was beginning to enjoy the banter. ‘It wouldn’t do for humans to start shenanigan-ing in the park in broad daylight, would it?’
He chuckled again, more softly this time. There was something very suggestive about that laugh. He leaned a little closer to me as we walked, close enough to speak straight into my ear, in little more than a whisper:
‘Haven’t you ever done that, then? I bet you have.’
‘No, I haven’t!’ I protested, laughing back at him. My ear was tingling from his whisper, from his breath.
‘You’ve never lived, then,’ he said. ‘Not that it’d be a very pleasant proposition in this kind of weather.’ The rain of the preceding days had lessened to a miserable, persistent drizzle, and even as I giggled and shook my head at the whole silly turn of conversation, I could see that he had a point. ‘No,’ he went on, ‘it’s a summertime activity, that’s for sure, although May is actually the traditional month for such things, of course.’
‘Is it?’ I was still giggling. ‘Why?’
‘You don’t know?’ He made a great play of staring at me and shaking his head. ‘Nicola Pearce, I’m surprised at you. You grew up around here, in the countryside, and you’ve never heard that famous old country rhyme about the first of May?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ I said. ‘Tell me.’
His smile broadened. He leaned closer again, and this time, I swear his lips were actually touching my ear as he whispered huskily:
‘Hooray, hooray, the first of May. Outdoor sex begins today!’
‘Oh, that!’ I laughed out loud, pushing him away, not wanting him to notice that he’d actually made me shiver. It was just his breath, his mouth, tickling my ear, that was all. ‘That stupid verse the kids at school used to say. I thought you meant something serious.’
‘Of course it’s serious,’ he replied, but he was laughing too. ‘What goes for the birds and the bees – and the dogs, I suppose, unless they’ve been neutered – surely goes for humans too. May is the month, mark my words.’
‘Well, there’s not too much of May left,’ I said.
‘No.’ He sounded regretful. ‘You’re right. Oh well, there’s always next year, I suppose.’
We’d reached the far side of the park, and I was glad in a way to drop the subject, to pick up Mia’s bike from where she’d left it lying on the grass when the path ran out, call her back from the tree she was attempting to climb, let Smartie off his lead and watch him jump and skip through the long, wet grass after Judy and the other dogs. As we all stood for a while to wait for them to have their play, we went back to discussing the park, in particular how much it needed tending to, if we were going to be ready for a pet show at the end of August. Simon started to tell us that, if the council refused to tidy up the park, he’d tackle the job himself, as long as he had a few volunteers helping. He had all the equipment, after all, and could do the work on Sundays.
‘I’d give you a hand with that, mate, no worries at all,’ Craig said. ‘Not that I know one end of a lawnmower from the other, but if you need some muscle—’ he flexed his arms, and grinned at me, ‘—I’m your man.’
‘What a show-off,’ Amber whispered to me behind her hand, tickling my ear in a way that reminded me uncomfortably of how Craig’s lips had felt. ‘He so loves himself, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh, he’s harmless, isn’t he? He just likes a joke,’ I whispered back. ‘He’s fun.’
‘Mm. I noticed the two of you joking just now. Careful, Nic. As you know, he’s a bit of a ladies’ man.’
‘What?’ I took her by the elbow and moved her further away, to make sure we weren’t overheard by Craig and more importantly by Mia, who rarely missed a trick. ‘Amber, I’m not interested. Not in him, not in anyone. For God’s sake.’ I stared at her. ‘It’s Sara who likes him, unless I’m missing something? Are you interested in him?’
‘No, absolutely not.’ She snorted and shook her head. ‘As if! I’ve told you already, he’s not my type.’
‘Well, OK, but look, we were just having a laugh and being silly together, that’s all. Anyway, I realise he and Sara might be—’
‘Not as far as I know,’ she said sharply. ‘But I doubt that’d stop him, even if they were having a thing together. He’s only ever after a hook-up, take my word for it.’
‘Has he tried it on with you, then?’ I said. I was starting to get a bit irritated, feeling like I was defending myself and Craig. I was thirty-five, for God’s sake, and if I wanted to have a few jokes with Craig what did it matter? It was none of Amber’s business or anyone else’s.
‘No,’ she replied, abruptly. There was a silence. I was just about to shrug and walk back to join the group when she added: ‘Look, sorry, Nic. It’s just that I know how much you’ve been hurt. Splitting up with Josh – it’s still so recent, isn’t it? I don’t want you to make any disastrous mistakes right now, just … I don’t know … just because you’re lonely, or to get back at Josh, or whatever.’
‘Well, I’m sorry you think I’m so pathetic but I’m not lonely,’ I said quietly. ‘And I’m not trying to get back at Josh. It was just quite nice, for a few minutes there, to forget about everything and have a bit of a laugh.’
‘Point taken. And again, I’m sorry if that came out all wrong.’
She smiled and linked her arm through mine. I gave a grunt of acceptance. If she was only looking out for me, fair enough, that was what friends did and I should be grateful. But she had been quite forceful in warning me off Craig. I still had a sneaky suspicion that she liked him more than she was letting on. But as she’d denied it, I’d just have to take her word for it.
CHAPTER 17
Amber had been my best friend from our very first day at Furzewell Primary. She was cleverer than me, better at exams, more sure of herself, but neither of us seemed to care about any of that. There was no jealousy between us. When she was eleven and already wearing a bra, I was going through the worst of my Nic the Stick phase. I’d have loved to have had her shape instead of being straight up and down, but whenever I said so, she’d pull a face and tell me it wasn’t actually very nice to have boys smirking and gawping at her chest. A few years later, when other girls suddenly started to compare me to the latest stick-thin, long-blonde-haired models in the celebrity magazines, Amber hadn’t grown any taller, but had filled out to the point where she was teased for being little and round, and it was my turn to remind her that boys preferred girls with boobs and bums. To say nothing of brains, which she had in abundance.
In fact, we both ended up getting our fair share of attention from the opposite sex. Because there was nowhere much to go in Furzewell, all the kids hung around in the only available places – the village green outside the pub and the park. The playground equipment was properly maintained in those days, and after the younger children for whom it was intended had gone home to bed, then – as with every generation before us, I’m sure – it became the province of us teenagers. It gave us girls the perfect opportunity to squeal and scream, pretending to be nervous when the boys pushed the swings too high or the roundabout too fast, and the perfect place for the boys to hold onto us, pretending to protect us but really just wanting to put their arms around us and try their luck. And, of course, if their luck was in, the park was deserted on winter nights, the corners behind the toilet block dark and sheltered. On summer evenings the grass in the wooded area was soft and scented, the shadows long and forgiving. So despite my heated denials to Craig, by the time I was seventeen I knew all about what was meant by the first of May. By then, Josh and I were already an item. Already talking about being together forever.
After that, there was never anyone else for me; my days of squealing on the swings and fumbles with various boys under the trees were over. But I’d still enjoy a laugh and joke with Amber, pretending to indulge in light flirtation when we were out on our own, or together with the other girls, just for her sake – because there never seemed to be anyone serious for Amber. Nothing that lasted longer than a few days, a few weeks, occasionally a month or so, before she dumped them with no sign of regret. After Josh and I married and moved away, we stayed in touch for a while, sometimes getting together at weekends. But eventually she moved to Bristol and our communication dwindled to the occasional text, Facebook message and comments on each other’s Instagram posts. It was through these that I knew she’d remained single, with hardly ever a mention of anyone else in her life, never a photo or reference to anyone apart from various friends.
From our first accidental meeting back here in Furzewell, I’d wondered if she’d perhaps been hurt by someone and didn’t want to talk about it. If I attempted to reminisce with her now about our teenage years – about those nights in the park, the boys we kissed and teased, the fun we had with them – she seemed to close up, making it clear it wasn’t a memory lane she wanted to walk down with me. So now I normally kept off the subject of relationships when I was with her, which made it all the more surprising that she’d decided to lecture me about Craig.
Her interference had felt unnecessary – and a bit humiliating. If she was nursing a secret desire for Craig herself, maybe she was feeling resentful about him flirting with me as well as Sara. But because we’d been friends for so long, I wanted to believe her. She was just looking out for me.
On the Monday, I thought it best to remind Mia while we were getting ready, that Eddie wouldn’t be at school that morning. Her mouth turned down a little but she nodded and said, very seriously:
‘I know, Mummy. But I want to make him a get-well card. Can we go and see him after school so I can take it to him?’
‘Of course we can. That’s a lovely idea.’
I was so relieved that she seemed to be handling the temporary absence of her new buddy better than I’d expected, that I almost forgot, when I was saying goodbye to her outside her classroom, that I’d planned to warn her teacher that today might be a little difficult. But I needn’t have worried. Mia was already telling Mr Gregory, in quite a calm, grown-up
way:
‘Eddie can’t come to school today. He’s got the chicken-spots. I’m going to see him after school, so I can take him a new reading book if you like.’
‘Thank you, Mia,’ Mr Gregory said, raising his eyebrows at me and giving me a smile. ‘That’s very helpful of you.’
I went into my reception class feeling almost euphoric with relief. My little girl was growing up, and as long as I managed not to think about the fact that Eddie wouldn’t be in her class any more from September, I could believe that she was going to be happy and thrive in Furzewell.
When I collected her after school, she’d made, as promised, a get-well card, with a picture of a dog on the front and Dear Edie I hop you sone feel beter luve from Mia x x x written inside. I’d bought some chocolate for him and a football magazine he liked, and we took these round to Louise’s house, together with his new reading book. He seemed well enough, although his itchy spots were causing him grief, and he and Mia immediately ran off to play, while Louise put the kettle on.
‘How are you managing about your work while he’s off school?’ I asked her.
She normally worked part-time hours to fit in with school times.
‘I’ve had to take some of my annual leave. Unfortunately, I’d already booked a week off next week for half-term, so that will be another chunk of it gone.’ She sighed. ‘I’m a bit worried about the long summer holiday, to be honest. My mum’s offered to have him for a week – she lives in Cornwall – and I’m taking the following week off myself to stay down there with him. Other than that, I’ve been looking at holiday childcare – you know, activity clubs and so on – but I worry that Eddie’s going to struggle with it, especially if he doesn’t know anyone there.’
The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers Page 13