This Time Next Year(70)

‘I’m glad you did,’ she said.

Neither of them made a move to go. Quinn swayed his weight slightly from side to side.

‘There is this other thing I need to do. Maybe you could help?’

Minnie’s head sprung up to look at him. She couldn’t temper her smile. ‘Oh?’

‘I need to adopt a penguin from the zoo.’

Minnie burst out laughing. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that. Quinn explained that every year his mother struggled with what to get him for his birthday. She’d set upon adopting a different animal each year. He now supported a snow leopard, an orang-utan and a rare breed of Chilean bat. This year, she’d suggested a penguin. Quinn liked to do his research, so he’d been meaning to check out the ones at London Zoo.

‘You know you don’t actually get to take a penguin home from the zoo, right?’ Minnie said as they went through the station ticket barrier together.

‘Really?’ Quinn’s eyes darted back and forth in alarm. ‘I’ve got a bath full of fish at home, and I downloaded Happy Feet – in HD.’

‘Oh High Definition, in that case … You know, it’s lucky you asked for my help, I am amazing at picking out penguins.’

‘You know, that was one of the first things I thought when we met – I bet she knows a good penguin when she sees one.’

Quinn placed his hand on the base of her back as he steered her out of the way of a family running for the train. Minnie felt a tingle down her spine and curled in towards him as they stood inches apart on the busy platform. The fluttering owls had woken up, but instead of making her dizzy and anxious, she now felt these nesting birds like a warm comfort blanket, as though some dwindling hearth inside her had been rekindled with a gentle puff of oxygen.

She was going to the zoo with Quinn Hamilton. She felt like an excited child, full of bubbling anticipation and expectation. There was nothing she would rather be doing right now, no one she would rather be with; and it felt liberating to admit that to herself.





17 May 2020





Quinn bought them tickets and they meandered along the little zoo streets looking at animals.

‘I have never been to the zoo before,’ Minnie confessed.

Quinn did a double take. ‘You poor deprived child. Do you even know what a giraffe looks like?’ Quinn pointed at an enclosure of warthogs. ‘You know they’re not giraffes right?’

‘Ha-ha,’ Minnie elbowed him in the ribs. ‘No doubt you’re an expert after all those childhood holidays on African safaris. Both my parents worked at the weekend, they never had time to take me to the zoo.’

Quinn made a face of mock sympathy. ‘Poor little Olivia Twist – such a deprived, Dickensian upbringing.’

Minnie stuck her tongue out and gave him a friendly glower.

When they reached the penguin enclosure, Minnie let out a cry of delight. ‘Oh look at them, they’re so sweet! Look at their waddly little legs. Oh, and look at that one with the silly hair sprouting out of his head!’ she cried, pointing out one of the penguins. Quinn didn’t say anything. She turned to check he was still there and found him gazing down at her with a look of charmed amusement.

‘What?’ she said.

‘You’re very sweet,’ he said softly, his eyes locking on to hers.

Minnie’s stomach flipped.

‘I don’t think I want to be sweet,’ she said, turning away and looking back at the penguins. She rested her hands against the glass to anchor herself.

‘Oh look, what’s that one doing?’ Minnie said, pointing to a penguin shuffling something between his feet.

‘He’s bringing a stone to his mate as a gift,’ said a deep, gravelly voice beside her. Minnie turned to see an elderly man with white hair and a large nose speckled with liver spots. He had a hunched back and a cane in his hand. He pointed a wavering finger at the penguin. ‘They give gifts to each other like humans do. That one there is trying to win her affections. She’s a tough cookie, though, she is,’ the old man laughed. ‘There aren’t enough rocks in the enclosure to please her.’

‘You know a lot about penguins,’ Minnie said to the man.

‘Come here most days. My wife and I used to come together,’ said the man, tapping his cane twice against the floor. They stood quietly beside each other, watching the penguins until the old man spoke again. ‘They mate for life, you know.’

‘Maybe our lives would be easier if we were more penguin-y,’ said Minnie.

‘Not easy for all of them,’ said the old man, shaking his head. ‘There was a Humboldt penguin like this in Tokyo Zoo; Grape-kun was his name. They put a cardboard cut-out of a little anime girl in his enclosure – advert for something, I think. Anyway, Grape-kun fell in love with that cardboard girl. Stood staring at her every day, wouldn’t move to get food, just stared mournfully. Unrequited love.’

‘What happened to him?’ Quinn asked from behind Minnie.

‘He died,’ sighed the man, ‘some say of a broken heart. He’d spent years of his life staring at that cardboard girl, willing her to love him, but she could not love him back. I always think of that story when I see penguins. I think it was cruel for the zoo to keep the cardboard girl there. Brought in the tourists, though, didn’t it? Everyone wanted to see the love-struck penguin.’