Chapter 41
There was trouble at the repair shed this lunch time, and it was all Jolyon’s fault. Or that’s what Shell was maintaining as she cried in her mum’s arms out on the gravel drive.
‘But he brought you a packet of pink wafers today,’ Livvie was saying. ‘And he’s missed playing with you so much. Don’t you think you can forgive him?’
Shell, with tears welling in the way they only can for tiny aggrieved girls who have been done a massive injustice, shook her bunches.
‘We were doing the Stickle Bricks,’ she said, ‘which I don’t mind because he’s littler,’ another big breath and a sob, ‘and I told him he could sit on my blanket if he really wanted to…’
‘That was nice of you,’ said Livvie, wiping away her daughter’s tears only for more to fall.
‘And the next thing, he’s walking around with it, cuddling it!’
‘Oh, Shell.’ Her mum pulled her closer. ‘I think we might have to leave blankie at home, if this is going to keep happening?’
‘No! I can’t!’
Now it really was serious. Shell was gasping for air.
‘OK, OK, we’ll think of something,’ Livvie soothed. ‘Do you maybe want to… not see Jolyon for a wee while?’
‘No!’ Shell howled. ‘He’s my friend.’
‘OK, got it,’ said Livvie, glancing across the carpark to where a similar scene was playing out between Jolyon and Mhairi, and there was only a few minutes left of Shell’s school lunch break to sort it all out. She’d have to get her back there before the bell rang at one.
Only Mhairi, who hadn’t heard Shell defending her fledgling friendship, wasn’t feeling quite so hopeful as Livvie that they could find a way around this problem. In fact, she was ready to get Jolly back in the car and leave.
This morning, they’d gone along to the first of the long-awaited referrals, made by Dr Hargreave for Jolyon, and Mhairi had watched as the occupational therapist, who had been lovely – though that hadn’t made Jolly’s long appointment any less gruelling for him – put him through test after test, watching him play and do puzzles and hold a pen and make marks, and asking him to move around the room in certain ways, making him lie down and manipulating his joints this way and that.
Mhairi had found it tough, and she was only watching.
So when it was all over she’d thought it might be nice to pop in to the repair shop and see if there was anyone around to play with on a Wednesday afternoon, underestimating how dysregulated and tired her son was, and the unexpected sight of his best friend in all the world had resulted in a great burst of enthusiasm, followed by a fast decline into sleepiness and so, when he’d innocently reached, yet again, for the blanket that was so precious to poor little Shell, the result had been one big crying match, and now this.
It was bringing back all those times a kid had read Jolly wrong, or there’d been parents grumbling about him not responding to friendly prompts the way their child would have.
Yet she refused to explain herself or how her family worked, just like she refused to stop reminding other parents that ‘be kind’ was more than just a hashtag they stuck in their social media bios.
It was a hard and fast rule for life in the Sears household, and what it meant was, don’t judge, forgive easily, and keep your opinions to yourself.
Jolyon clung to his mother’s neck, sobbing.
‘What shall we do, eh, Jolly? Shall we go home? Maybe Daddy will be finishing work early? We could all cuddle up and watch Bluey, hmm?’
Jolly didn’t loosen his grip.
‘Or do you want to stay here and try to have a milkshake with Shell?’ This wouldn’t have been Mhairi’s first choice.
Jolyon nodded against her neck and pulled back, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red.
‘I promise you, I will look high and low for a blue blanket, just as soft and squishable, OK?’
And she meant it. She’d even considered asking Livvie if she could take a photo of the blasted thing so she could post it on Facebook with an appeal to find her son one exactly the same, because he’d formed an attachment to it in a way that was making things tricky with his new buddy.
With a sigh, Mhairi prepared herself to face Livvie Cooper, another mother who must, by now, be beginning to think there was some kind of discipline issue that wasn’t being kept on top of.
Mhairi raised a tentative hand to wave to Livvie across the carpark to signal they’d be over in a minute, but she wasn’t looking.
Shell was busy whispering something in her mother’s ear, which turned into both of them glancing across in Mhairi’s direction as Mhairi quickly whipped her hand to her side.
Then mother and daughter went off to find Roz who’d just come out of the mill house and the three of them fell into what appeared to be a very serious conversation about Mhairi and her son, if the troubled glances in their direction were anything to go by.
This signalled the end of her visits to the repair shed café, thought Mhairi, and more than likely it was the end of the gardening project for her and Jolyon too.
The Coopers were no doubt, right this second, asking Roz to have them removed for disruptive behaviour and for repeatedly causing problems like this.
Maybe they aren’t our friends after all, Mhairi said to herself, pre-emptively processing the rejection that was to come.
They didn’t have to come back here if people weren’t going to accept them. They could find another group to go to, though Mhairi was running out of options and she’d really, really liked it here, and more importantly, so had Jolly.
With a heavy sigh, she got up, zipped Jolyon’s coat and made sure he still had his wellies on the correct feet before, resolutely, bundling him into his car seat, leaving Jolyon distraught and wondering where his friend and the promised milkshakes had got to.
Roz, Shell and Livvie remained in their secretive little whispering huddle as the three of them headed inside the repair shed together, forgetting entirely to wave goodbye in their direction.
‘Oh, well.’ Mhairi sighed as she clipped the seat belt. ‘It was nice while it lasted.’
* * *
Murray had been amazed to find, as he made his way down the path to town, that the first signs of spring had arrived. Snowdrops bloomed in the hedgerows and the verges were alive with yellow crocuses. When had that happened? How could so much transformation take place in so few days?
He’d taken a last look up towards the cruive as he’d hit the turning for town and found it was only a little brown speck up there on the hillside. Even that made him smile.
Nell had hung back and had to be recalled many times as she’d tried to sneak back to Finlay and his scullery store of delicious food, but as soon as they drew near the mill house she’d broken into a run, remembering her pups.
Murray, not wanting to see anyone else quite yet, not until he’d tidied himself up a bit, had tiptoed across the drive and into the house, only to be met by a wild, yapping tumble of puppies who had grown a colossal amount in the days since he’d last seen them.
Nell was happy to be reunited with her daughters, for a brief while, but by the time Murray had showered and shaved, she was back in her spot sleeping by the Aga, ignoring their antics.
This was a good sign, he thought. It was time to let the pups go. They didn’t need her and she didn’t mind being away from them, just so long as she got lots of love, food and naps.
‘It’ll be hard saying goodbye to you wee ones,’ he told one of the pups, eye to eye. She stretched her tongue to lick the end of his nose.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I have emails to read.’
He set up his tablet on the wide expanse of his parents’ kitchen table, thinking how echoing everything seemed in here after the cramped cosiness of the cruive.
He had to stop himself daydreaming about that place, and about Finlay, and that kiss, or he’d never be able to stop the words swimming around on the screen in front of him.
‘Contracts attached, for your consideration,’ it read, and Murray forced himself to concentrate.