Chapter 22
Jolyon Sears was having a lovely day.
There’d been his favourite Greek yoghurt for breakfast and his favourite person in all the world helping him into his coat and gloves.
His heart was bursting with love for his mum as she got him in the car, ready for a ‘big day out’ which sounded very exciting, and things only got better for having his favourite Batwheels cartoons on his tablet in the car.
And now here he was at a muddy, grassy place and somebody, who he didn’t know, but he seemed nice, was giving him an actual proper thingy to dig in the mud with.
There were birds making a racket in the big trees on the other side of the big shed, and there was a bright yellow sun in the blue sky, just like the drawings he loved to do, and very, very, very best of all, Pink Wafer Girl was here, and she had that soft-looking blue blanket with her again, the one he’d have little squeezes of when she wasn’t looking, and she was being handed a thingy of her own for digging, and yes!
she was coming over here to his rectangular box of muck which was just the right height for him to reach in and scoop.
‘Hello,’ she said in a whispery way, and he beamed back at her, saying his hellos in his very own way. He eyed her hand delving into her pocket, but no, she didn’t pull out any biscuits. She retrieved sunny yellow gloves with bumblebees and pulled them on.
‘Mum told me we’re digging together today,’ Shell said, and just because Jolyon didn’t quite detect the tiny note of consternation in her voice because she’d been paired with a boy not even started school yet, he read her awkward smile as a good sign.
Chirruping with laughter just like the birds, he stuck the thingy into the dirt and flipped a big scoop of soil into the air. It plopped down heavily onto the bare bed.
Pink Wafer Girl watched him for a minute, before her eyes flashed with light, and she did the exact same thing, scooping some mud and sending it flying and whispering a naughty ‘fliiiing!’ which made them both giggle.
They both did another good fling at the exact same time and not one of the grown-ups seemed to want to stop them, or were even looking their way, apart from their mums and the lady doctor way over there, and they were too busy talking to spoil their fun.
Yes, this was definitely going to be the absolute best day ever.
* * *
‘You came!’ Alice called, her heart lifting at the sight of Jolyon’s mum, Mhairi Sears, standing against the wall where the low winter sun cast a golden glare.
‘I thought we had to?’
‘What? No.’ Alice shook her head. ‘Not at all. It’s just a bit of fun, a community-building sort of thing.’
‘The letter said it was a referral.’
‘Oh, well, that’s just surgery letters, isn’t it.’ Alice made a mental note to get that sorted out ASAP. She didn’t want to scare patients away with formality before they even got a chance to look at this place.
She’d asked Gracie to send the Sears’ letter, and the receptionist had mentioned that little Shell Cooper, who’d been at the meeting that first night at the surgery, might benefit from an invitation to participate too.
‘She’ll be there anyway, given that she’s stuck to her mother like glue,’ Gracie had said. ‘But should I send her one? Make it official?’
Alice hadn’t felt so sure about making Shell an official participant in the scheme, but Gracie had really pressed the point, saying, ‘You heard about what happened with her mother with all those gangland crooks, didn’t you?’
Alice had winced at the indiscretion, but she’d still asked Gracie to elaborate, and her version of events, even while taken with a pinch of salt, had been enough to convince her that Shell and Livvie were exactly suited to the project’s therapeutic benefits.
Alice was so glad to see the mother and daughter arriving right on time this morning.
She wished everyone had been so willing.
She’d had to ring Clyde Forte on Friday to check if he planned on coming, and he’d said he’d go if Kellie was going, but then Alice hadn’t heard a peep from her at all and had the feeling that cajoling her over the phone could easily go the wrong way, so she’d lied and told Mr Forte she was certain Kellie was intending to come.
No one else had arrived yet, but Alice knew if they could just see the place in the low morning sun with the fresh compost and manure in the bare beds making steam rise in the chilly air, they would think it a good place to spend some time meeting other people and getting some exercise, learning some new skills, even.
Granted, the grass around the beds was spongy where it held on to the winter’s rain, and there seemed to be a huge amount of work to do, but it would be lovely, come spring.
For now, the beds were full of promise, like a new ward opening in a new hospital wing, everything stripped back and spotless.
Her eyes followed Mhairi’s darting to a spot across the garden where Jolyon and Shell were playing in the mud with their little trowels.
‘Someone’s having a good time,’ Alice said, though when she looked back at Mhairi there was a touch of concern wrinkling her brow.
‘Do you think they’re all right? Jolyon’s not being too rough?’ Mhairi asked Alice.
‘They look fine to me.’
Mhairi’s face was still clouded with worry.
‘What is it?’ Alice prompted.
After a heavy sigh, Mhairi told her how sometimes, when they’d been trying out new playgroups or on the rare occasions they got invited to playdates or parties, some of the mums had taken exception to Jolyon’s exuberance or the way he might have needed help to read certain situations.
It sometimes resulted in other kids getting scared or annoyed, and there’d be tears, and sometimes angry parents, and Mhairi would score another playmate or group off her list of people and places willing to accommodate them.
‘I don’t want to always be telling him to settle down, not when he’s just playing, but it can get too much…’ Mhairi was saying when Livvie Cooper joined them, bringing them each a mug of Senga’s hot chocolate.
‘They look fine to me,’ Livvie said, echoing Alice’s own words, even though she’d only caught a little of what was being said. ‘I thought the point of the garden was to be recuperative? A place for playing.’
‘Dr Millen not here?’ Mhairi asked, possibly to divert the subject away from her anxieties about how people perceived her parenting.
‘Oh, uh, no. I suppose he’s given enough to the community over the years?’ Alice said with a shrug, not wanting to let anyone know she’d been well and truly lumbered with this project and, as the newbie, she couldn’t very well say no to the old doctor.
Livvie and Mhairi didn’t say anything but exchanged a quick glance.
‘So, do you two know each other?’ Alice asked them.
Mhairi went first. ‘We’ve seen each other round the repair shop. I come in for a brew some days.’
‘The kids seem to have taken a shine to each other,’ Livvie added.
‘Jolyon’s face lit up when he spotted her just now,’ said Alice.
They all watched the children, now being shown how to plant the bareroot rose bushes by Finlay and Murray. Or, at least, Finlay was down on his hands and knees digging while Murray hung back and passed him the twiggy plants from the barrow.
Shell had taken on the foreman role and was re-explaining how it all worked to Jolyon, as though Finlay’s explanation was all very well, but the little boy needed to hear it twice as loud.
‘Hope he doesn’t mind her bossiness,’ Livvie said.
‘Of course not,’ Mhairi said quickly, not seeming to register that she wasn’t the only mum worried about how others might respond to their kid’s playing style.
‘She knows her mind, that’s all,’ Alice said, before the mums decided they should probably roll their sleeves up and get stuck in.
‘I’ll catch up with you in a bit,’ Alice told them as they joined their children. She stayed by the side of the barn, waiting for her other participants. If they didn’t show up it wouldn’t be much of a launch event, would it?
She let her eyes travel around the garden, counting off the volunteers, ranger Finlay, the McIntyres, and hoping that no one could guess that she was looking out for a handsome man in vintage gear, hoping she could thank him properly for his kindness yesterday.
* * *
Today there were no clouds, only a little wind, and the mountains lifted like snowy cream-topped desserts up into the cold air. Cairn Dhu resembled a frosty little gingerbread town in its sparkling green valley.
The blue sky had rubbed off on Finlay, who had started his day with a surprising amount of positivity, and he hadn’t minded leaving his viewing spot up at the cruive and making his way down to town early, at Murray’s request. The place had been quiet, even for a Sunday morning in late January.
Senga Gifford had pulled him aside as soon as he’d hit the gravelled drive of the mill house, telling him she was doing refreshments today and forcing a hot chocolate upon him.
He didn’t normally drink the stuff, preferring his usual coffee, but he’d given it a go just to placate her and he’d found it absolutely delicious, and about fifty per cent melted milk chocolate.
The whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles made it all the sweeter (‘the marshmallows are reserved for the bairns,’ Senga had told him when he asked for a few) and he’d actually been halfway to a kind of happiness when Murray had dragged him away from the basket of chocolate brownie bites he’d been about to sample, leading him into the kitchen at the mill house, a place he’d never set foot before.
There’d been Murray’s parents around the breakfast table, and the place had smelled of toasted bread and coffee and whiffy patchouli candles. They’d greeted him when he arrived the way they probably greeted their own son, all smiles and welcomes.
Murray hadn’t waited a second before launching into his, obviously pre-prepared, speech about how Finlay deserved a dog of his own. ‘Man’s best friend,’ he’d said, putting a puppy immediately into his arms.
It had been another ambush, like these Cairn Dhu folk do best. Finlay had placed the thing right down into its playpen.
‘Your heart’s in the right place, Murs, but mind you listen to Finlay,’ his mum had said gently, as she got up from the breakfast table, kissing Murray’s cheek, before pulling on a coat from the stand by the door. ‘Don’t be pushy.’
Murray’s dad was up too and lacing his boots, putting on a jacket over his overalls. He’d ruffled his son’s hair as he followed his wife to the door.
Finlay was a little shaken to realise his first reaction to the way the parents spoke to Murray was one of revulsion. Imagine having parents all over you like that!
Then he’d checked himself and the reasonable part of his brain pointed out it was wrong to be envious of something someone else had.
He heard his own mother’s dry voice telling him covetousness is a sin.
Then, after that, all he could think about was how lucky Murray was.
How the man made a lot more sense now, if this was his natural habitat and he’d been raised by folks like this.
No wonder he turned out a little bit silly, a little bit assured, and very well loved.
It must be nice, Finlay’s heart had said, cracking a little, the way it used to when he was allowed to go to other children’s houses and see their toys and eat their meals and watch their tellies.
He didn’t often get invited back, being an obtuse child who said all the wrong things, but the memories of cosy homes and cuddles and snacks and all the nice belongings other families were used to stuck with him, reinforcing the knowledge that he wasn’t like those others.
‘You can say no to him, you know, Finlay?’ Mr McIntyre was saying. ‘Don’t be letting Murray strongarm you into anything. OK?’ He’d addressed this part to Murray. ‘Best of luck with the launch th’ day, son. I know you can do it!’
He’d spoken to Finlay and Murray just the same, fatherly and soft. Finlay had looked around the room after they’d left, picturing what it must be like living in a big house like this with soft-hearted parents to gently guide you, even when you’re an adult yourself.
Murray, however, didn’t seem to know how lucky he was – Mrs Morlich would have said how ‘spoiled’. Folk never do know.
Murray had launched into his patter about today being Finlay’s lucky day, before listing the benefits of dog ownership like he was selling the things for cash.
The whole sales pitch had put him in a dark mood, and Finlay had vowed to get through the tree planting and project launch and return to his cruive as fast as he could, and without a dog, or any other additional responsibilities these pesky townsfolk liked to heap upon him.