Chapter 11
In the end, Nancy had gone along with them. By general agreement, they all signed up for Handbag Design and a few other taster courses. Somehow, by the time they’d finished, it was almost picking-up time. ‘Our lot love Puddleducks so much that they’re going to be staying two afternoons a week,’ said Brigid casually as they left Church House. ‘Billy even goes to the After-School club at the main school. It’s good preparation for next year when he goes up.’
Annie giggled as she unlocked her bike with a bucket seat on the back that looked, to Nancy, highly unstable. ‘Bet you send him even more now that that dishy Reception head has taken over. Have you seen him? A slightly stocky northerner with definite attitude. Gorgeous! Take a good look, Nancy. If he’s like dear old Brian he’ll be coming down quite regularly to Puddleducks, so the children have a familiar face when they go up to his year.’
Nancy felt awkward, as she always did when she heard women admire other men who weren’t their husband. Sam had been her first real boyfriend, which had possibly accounted for Danny’s rapid conception only a few months after they’d met.
The others were peeling off now. ‘There’s a great second-hand designer shop down that street, Nancy. Want to check it out? We’ve got at least five minutes before pick-up time.’
No way was she being late! Instead, she walked briskly up to the playgroup, crunching through the yellow and gold leaves that Danny liked to toss up in the air when she allowed him out of his pushchair to stretch his legs.
She’d intended to be early but she was bang on time. To her shame, there were four other parents in front of her, which meant she wasn’t first through the security door which one of the helpers was holding open.
Heart thumping, Nancy searched the circle of bright-faced children in blue Puddleduck sweatshirts, sitting cross-legged on the carpet which had – oh dear – some glue stains on it. There was Danny, holding hands on one side with an exquisite little girl, like a china doll with jet-black hair and a flower-like pale complexion. Danny had a girlfriend already?
Next to him, Brigid’s Billy was wriggling around with what the British called ants in his pants. Then he picked up a plastic hammer which had been lying on the floor and began banging his own shoe. Danny and that lovely child were giggling as though they thought it was funny, but surely he might hurt someone?
‘Calm down, Billy,’ said Gemma. Nancy had to admit that she did have an authoritative edge to her voice, which was good.
‘What is wrong with that child?’ demanded one of the other mothers in piercing tones.
Exactly what she, Nancy had been thinking. Poor Brigid, who was just arriving now, clutching a carrier bag from the designer shop and muttering something about being caught up. She must be so embarrassed. But no. She was saying something now. Really loudly, as if it was the other woman who had a problem and not her.
‘That’s my son Billy you’re talking about. He’s just lively, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it. It’s like being born with different-coloured eyes or,’ her eyes narrowed as she stared at the woman, ‘with your kind of red hair.’
Nancy could hardly believe her ears. Gemma looked as though she was about to try and smooth things over, but before she could say anything a very tall, elegant woman, wearing a pashmina draped over her shoulder and part of her head, swooped in. Without saying a word, she nodded graciously at the group of parents, including Toby’s dad whose jaw had virtually reached the neck of his egg-stained T-shirt, picked up the china doll with the jet-black hair and pale complexion, and glided out again.
‘Could someone please tell me,’ said Toby’s dad with a catch in his voice, ‘if that was who I think it was?’
That afternoon, Nancy took Danny to the park. It was a ritual. They had always done this before playgroup had started and now they went in the afternoons. The roundabout first. Then the swings. And then the slide – she made sure that she always stood near the middle of it, so she could grab her son if he showed any sign of getting into trouble.
Not that he ever did. Danny was far more agile than she had been as a child. Sam had indicated that he had been quite sporty, but they hadn’t really known each other long enough to have gone through the ‘these are my old school photos’ stage.
But today Danny didn’t want to go on the roundabout or the swing or the slide. ‘Want Billy and Lily,’ he kept saying, looking around the park wistfully as though they might appear from the clump of trees at the side (where Nancy had always thought unsavoury characters might lurk), or from the dog-walking field at the top which led to a large housing estate.
By the seventh time he had said this, Nancy was beginning to feel somewhat irritated. She’d had enough of all the parenting chatter that had started up after the tall, elegant mother had left. She’d never been one for celebrity magazines, so when Dog Dad, as she privately called him on account of the poo bags that were always spilling out of his pockets, told them all that if that wasn’t Dilly Dalung he would eat his hat (another weird English expression), she hadn’t known who he was talking about.
As for Brigid’s son, well, clearly he wasn’t a suitable play date for Danny. According to her American parenting magazine, behaviour like that could be catching.
No. Danny would have to make do with her. Besides, he was all she had until Sam came back. Nancy’s eyes began to mist over as she encouraged her son to try the roundabout just once. Pink-haired Annie and Brigid the Brace clearly thought she was being na?ve in expecting her husband to return.
Now, as she took Danny’s sticky hand firmly in hers to go home, only to find that he tried to shake it off as they waited to cross the road, she began to wonder herself about Sam. He hadn’t phoned last night. He had merely sent her a short text instead, saying that he was going off to a business dinner and would give her a call later that week.
It didn’t feel good.
That night, for the very first time since he’d been born, Danny fell asleep immediately after his bath and story. When Nancy woke with a start at 4 a.m., realising that her son hadn’t sneaked into her bed as usual, she leaped up and ran to his room. He was sleeping evenly and calmly, to her relief.
Playgroup had clearly worn him out. How ironic, thought Nancy as she padded back to her own empty bed, that he should do this while Sam was not here. If only her husband hadn’t had to go away, they could have cuddled up and then …
Nancy couldn’t help smiling at the memory of how Sam’s cuddles, and then his deep kisses, had utterly melted her soon after they had met. The physical attraction between them had been mutual; she could tell that, despite her inexperience, from the way he had held her and run his hands over the back of her head, pulling her towards him.
If they had had a bit longer together before Danny was born, would he have tired of her so easily? Because judging from the lack of phone calls or texts tonight, that was exactly what he had done. And now Danny was at playgroup and would, within a year, go up to Big School, where on earth would that leave her?