Five Winters(60)

“Or Father Christmas,” said another boy. “Because there’s no red left.”

“Okay,” I said, my smile starting to feel strained. “I’ll do some coloured stars. Or Christmas baubles. They’re all sorts of colours, aren’t they?” Nobody replied.

Warily, I dipped my paintbrush into the paint. I hadn’t painted anything at all since I’d painted the shelving unit flamingo pink, but how hard could it be? And it didn’t matter how it turned out anyway. I’d come here to interact, not to create great art.

“So how long have you guys been coming to the centre? Do you like it?”

Well done, Beth. Two questions at once.

“Two years.”

“A year.”

“It’s all right.”

“Jake’s great.”

“He seems like he’d be fun,” I said.

“He is. This is a bit lame, though,” said an older-looking boy, looking at his lantern in disgust. The picture he was painting was of a spider’s web. It looked as if it might be more suited to Halloween than Christmas.

One of the girls was looking at the embroidered logo on my uniform. “Do you work at the vet’s?”

“I do. I’m a veterinary nurse.”

“Do you, like, take animals’ temperatures and stuff?”

“Sometimes, yes. And I do blood tests and generally help the vet out and look after the animals if they’re in for surgery.”

“Our dog had puppies last week,” said one of the younger-looking boys. “Mum says we can keep one.”

I smiled at him. “That’s nice. What sort of dogs are they?”

He shrugged. “Black ones and brown ones.”

The older-looking boy pushed his lantern away and stuffed his paintbrush into a jam jar of water. “Our dog had puppies too, but my dad drowned them.”

“Oh, that’s . . .” I broke off, unsure how to continue. If I said it was awful, it would seem like a criticism of the boy’s father, and while I felt criticism would be very well justified, it wasn’t my place to give it.

Thankfully, Jake returned with my coffee at that point.

“Is Logan telling you gruesome stories?” he asked.

“Well, unhappy ones, perhaps,” I said.

He nodded. “Maybe we save the sad animal stories for Beth’s second visit?” he suggested.

Jake’s presence inspired the kids to ask me questions about their pets, and before I knew it, it was time for the session to end, and my glass jar was covered with depictions of Christmas baubles, which, if you looked closely, did not look more like balloons.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” said Jake, holding it up to the light. “What d’you think, guys?”

“It’s cool, miss.”

“Thanks. It’s not half as good as all of yours, though.”

“Stick around, Beth,” said Jake. “I’ll just let this lot out.”

When Jake returned, he was shrugging on a leather jacket. “Fancy coming to the Curve Garden to see the lights? We could get a beer, and I could tell you more about the centre. They serve food there if you’re hungry.”

It was the first time since my split with Jaimie that a man I didn’t really know had invited me to anything. And Jake seemed like a really nice guy. I smiled. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

“Great,” said Jake, smiling back at me. “Let’s go.”





22


Dalston East Curve Garden was a community garden established in a space that had once been derelict railway land. Now it was an oasis of peace with trees and flowers, and a space for picnics, games, and creative workshops. I’d forgotten about it when I’d been talking to Clare the other day, but now, as I walked towards it with Jake, I thought what a bonus the garden would be for me with a young child to entertain. Sure, I had my own garden, but the Curve Garden would be a place my child and I could go to socialise with others.

My child and I . . . It was becoming increasingly real to me that sometime next year I might be a mother. That it wouldn’t just be me in the flat. Not just me I had to think about when I was doing a food shop.

Jake’s voice startled me out of my musings. “I hope Logan didn’t upset you with all his talk of puppy drownings.”

“Well,” I said, “I can’t say it was the highlight of my visit. Mostly, I felt sorry for him, though. And the puppies, of course.”

Jake nodded. “He’s all right, really, Logan. Just has some difficult issues to deal with at home. He was in bits about those puppies, actually. Sobbing outside the centre. Wouldn’t come in because he didn’t want the other kids to see him like that.”

Jake sighed. “Kids like Logan have to act tough to get by. Trouble is, the tough act can end up sticking. We do what we can for young people, but it can be difficult watching the fallout when that’s not enough. Kids can end up blaming you, holding you responsible.”

I thought about Olivia and Emily—of the walls they’d put up against me. Had I tried as hard as I could to break their barriers down? I’d thought so at the time, but maybe my own vulnerability and unhappiness had held me back when the going had got tough. Maybe I ought to have kept on pushing, been more determined to forge a relationship with them. Shown them I wasn’t trying to replace their mother.