Your Perfect Year(5)
They figured that with a group of no more than sixteen children between three and six years old, making eight for each of them—a veritable luxury compared with their previous jobs, where they had often been called on to look after twenty or more little scamps between the two of them—they could do some fantastic things. They could take the little ones on outings to adventure playgrounds and to see the deer in the Niendorfer Gehege woods, to visit the fire department or the police, to the Hamburg bookshops, to the banks of the Elbe with a trip on the ferry (which was free for kids), to the educational playground at the university, and, in summer, to the large public wading pool in the city park. The possibilities were endless.
And on the inevitable rainy days for which Hamburg was renowned, they had plenty of space for indoor activities at their premises on Eppendorfer Weg. Past the front of the building with its reception area, coatroom, kitchenette, and bathroom with changing table, the heart of Little Rascals was the large play area covering more than four hundred square feet. Over recent weeks, Lisa and Hannah had spent many long hours transforming this space into a children’s paradise, complete with wall bars and thick gym mats; play shop and kitchen; a knights’ castle with a slide (bought on eBay for a song); a cozy corner with cushions, rugs, music CDs, and picture books; a play tent; dress-up box; pedal cars; building blocks; craft materials; face paints; and so much more.
In the little courtyard out back of the unit were the requisite sandbox with cover and a brand-new swing (also from eBay, for two songs), a hammock donated by Hannah’s parents, a few miniature pieces of garden furniture, and all kinds of sand utensils from Lisa’s parents.
The ultimate achievement—Hannah was particularly proud of herself here—was that she had been taking guitar lessons for two months so she could make music with the kids. Meanwhile, Lisa had been busy with a “mini-disco,” choreographing simple routines to children’s favorites that their charges would know and love.
In short, they had thought of absolutely everything a child’s heart could desire. And they firmly believed in the success of Little Rascals—no, they were convinced of it.
Neither of them saw a problem with the evening and weekend working hours. Lisa had been single for more than three years—even though she was a real beauty, and not only in Hannah’s opinion. She was five foot five and blessed with womanly curves, and her short, tousled black hair simply cried out to be ruffled. Her eyes were a warm amber color, and she had a beautiful natural pout that many a cosmetic surgeon would kill to reproduce. Despite all this, no suitable men had shown up in Lisa’s life for a long time, which she insisted didn’t bother her in the slightest. Hannah wasn’t sure she believed her, but at least Lisa’s independence was ideal for the Little Rascals venture.
As far as Hannah was concerned, she had until recently thought she was free to work evenings and weekends, because Simon usually sat long into the night at his editor’s desk. It would therefore have fit in perfectly and might even have benefited their relationship. Sadly, that was no longer the case, although she hoped things would change soon. And in the meantime, he had assured Hannah that he saw no problem with her devoting her energy entirely to her project. She wasn’t sure whether his declaration pleased or worried her, but she had ultimately opted for being pleased, because she believed optimism was generally the best attitude.
“You can even join in!” Hannah had suggested to Simon. “At least you have the time now. And if things go well, sooner or later we’ll need more people.”
“So what would I do?” he had asked. “Should I be perfecting my face-painting skills? Or throwing on a clown costume when I get up in the mornings?”
“Hardly.” Hannah laughed. “You’d be more like some kind of Pennywise, sending the kids running off, screaming.” She shuddered at the very thought of the clown out of Stephen King’s It.
“What’s your problem?” Simon put on a pained expression. “I love children!”
“Yes. Especially when they’re asleep. Or when you can just about make them out on the far horizon with a pair of binoculars.”
“Huh!” He flung both arms around her and hugged her to him. “Wait till we have our own children. You’ll see what an amazing dad I’ll be!”
“You think so?” Hannah giggled as his embrace tickled her.
But his words made her heart leap. Our own children. Had he really meant it? Until that moment she’d assumed that he never gave a thought to marriage or even living together—she merely had the key to Simon’s apartment in the Hohenfelde district, which he had ceremoniously handed to her six months ago.
“Yes”—Simon placed a kiss on the tip of her nose—“I’m certain.”
“I can’t wait to see that.”
“Well, as for Little Rascals,” he said, disappointing her with the change of subject, “I’ll be happy to support you with any advice I can give, and of course I’ll take charge of your publicity. But beyond that, I think I’d rather look for a new job in journalism.”
“Or maybe you can get around to writing that bestseller of yours.”
“I’m really not in the right frame of mind for that at the moment.”
“Why not? Surely it’s the perfect time for it?”
“Perfect?”