Present day
‘So how long is this arrangement going to go on for?’ her friend Glenda asked with a distinct air of disapproval. Not that Lilly had expected anything less. She rolled her eyes and gripped the bulky phone tightly under her chin.
‘What arrangement, exactly?’ She couldn’t keep the edge of irritation from her question. It was how it was with Glenda, friends for so long that they fluctuated between love and hate, nothing was sugar-coated, no need for verbal filters or self-censorship.
‘You having to get up and drag the kid to school every morning! I don’t like the idea of it, Lil, not at your age. I wouldn’t even do that for my boys, and their kids are my grandchildren! I mean, every single morning!’ She sighed.
‘Well, luckily for Clodagh, I am not you. I’m also not a hundred, not incapable and not decrepit – not yet! And I shan’t be dragging him. We have a pleasant commute, and we get on rather well.’
Glenda tutted, ignoring her reasoning.
‘I mean, it’s all right when the weather is nice, but what about when it’s snowing?
What if it’s icy out, or raining? You need your sleep.
’ Lilly was trying to work out the connection between foul weather, sleeping and her ability to drop Apollo off at school, while Glenda hardly drew breath.
‘I don’t like it. I know Nicola and Cheryl wouldn’t dream of asking anyone to take their kids to school, especially not an elderly neighbour. ’
‘They might have to if you won’t do it! Besides, I’m not elderly! And I never intend to be elderly!’ She was shouting now, caring less what her mate’s rather lacklustre daughters-in-law would or would not do.
Again, Glenda ignored her.
‘Well, I’m only saying what’s on me mind, and I think she’s taking liberties, that girl who’s just moved in.’
‘She’s not a girl, she’s a young woman with a child who is doing her very best, and my goodness, what kind of world are we living in if I can’t help out a neighbour in need?
And she hasn’t just moved in. You’ve met her several times.
She’s been here for over a year now.’ It irritated her how she felt the need to justify her relationship with Clodagh, wondering if Glenda was suffering from the old green-eyed monster.
With this in mind she decided not to confess to just how much she loved walking Apollo to school.
There was something therapeutic about the routine and rhythm of it, seeing the same faces, looking out for the black cat who sat on the lid of the same wheelie bin, Mr Lycra the cyclist who always shouted Good morning!
as he left his front gate, their schedules obviously colliding.
Two weeks in, and she had no desire to stop.
Besides, it seemed to have done the trick.
The little boy was calm and chatty, walking into school without drama, yet to shed a tear.
Clodagh was beyond thankful and had caught up on her coursework.
She was striving to get her degree in sports therapy while working half-days in a fancy new coffee shop near the American Embassy along the river in Nine Elms.
‘That’s the trouble, you have the very best intentions, but as I said, I’m just worried someone might take advantage of you.
I mean, he’s not your grandchild, is he?
’ Her friend’s words, no doubt coming from a place of concern, landed in Lilly’s chest like tiny, poison-tipped daggers.
As if she needed a reminder that she had no grandchildren, something she would have quite liked.
More than quite liked. This was immediately followed by a flare of unease as her self-confidence dipped; had she overstepped the mark, did Clodagh think she was muscling in, trying to make more of their relationship, trying to take the place of a grandparent or, God forbid, a mother?
That would be the worst thing! Just the thought of it was enough for Lilly to feel her heart race a little, for the rising tide of humiliation to lap at her ankles, and for her to lose a little of her faith that she had done the right thing.
‘I am aware, Glenda. And I thank you for your concern. I don’t feel remotely taken advantage of. It was me who suggested it. Clodagh has never asked me for anything.’
It was true. If anything, the young woman had been healthily suspicious when they first met.
Their friendship had bloomed in spite of their less-than-auspicious first meeting, which had occurred as Lilly sat on the path in front of Waide House with her paintbrush in hand.
Alerted by the child’s presence, she had looked up in time to see him lean on the wall and throw a plastic lolly wrapper into the river.
‘What are you doing, dear? You really shouldn’t do that!’ She had raised her voice a little. He had turned to face her, his dark, dark hair falling over his face, expression nonplussed, lolly wedged into his mouth, the white stick protruding from his lips.
‘Please don’t bark at my son!’ the boy’s mother had called from behind.
Lilly turned to see the young woman, who clapped her hands together twice and reached out her arms, calling for her son to come to her.
He ignored her and turned back towards the water, the toes of his little trainers digging against the brick to hold him in place.
‘I don’t think I barked. The thing is, he threw rubbish into the river – plastic! He threw plastic!’
‘And I said, don’t bark at him, or me!’ The young woman doubled down, blinking as if this confrontation didn’t come naturally to her.
‘I’m not barking! But he really can’t throw things in the water. It’s a terrible thing to do. We have a duty of care, I believe, to the river, but also to kids. They need to understand the consequences of their actions, so that, hopefully, they think twice before doing it again.’
‘Apollo, come away from the lady!’
This had bothered Lilly. The words and tone suggested she was a danger, someone to be avoided. It was hurtful.
‘Well, if I barked, I didn’t mean to.’ She tried out a closed-mouthed smile of apology. ‘I feel strongly about the river.’
‘No shit!’ The woman took a step closer.
Young, very young, eyes wide, skin pale.
She looked like she needed a hot meal. They took a beat and Apollo’s mother spoke.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t watching him more closely.
I never let him litter. It’s the worst, I hate it. It’s hard to watch him every second.’
‘I can imagine. Apollo? That’s a wonderful, strong name. Son of Zeus, no less, twin to Artemis and the god of archery, dance and music, to name but a few.’ Her dad had loved to read excerpts to her from his book of ancient Greek and Roman mythology.
‘I always liked it. I wanted him to have a name people would remember, hopefully for all the right reasons and not because he commits ecological crimes . . .’ The girl pulled a face.
Lilly laughed.
‘I wanted to see it float!’ Apollo, who had climbed down now, stood facing her, his stare unapologetic, his explanation sincere.
‘Hmmm. I used to make boats out of twigs and sticks and throw them in when I was not much older than you. I figured that twigs and sticks might have fallen into the river anyway, plus they’ll break down, but plastic’ – Lilly shook her head – ‘it’s really nasty stuff.’
‘Why is it?’ the little boy asked, pulling his lolly momentarily from his mouth.
She looked briefly towards his mother, who smiled, an expression of encouragement, permission to explain.
‘Plastic hangs around for years and years, and if fish swallow it or get trapped in it—’
‘Are there fish in here?’ he interrupted, pointing excitedly at the water. It was thrilling to have captured his attention, to be making her point.
‘Yes, over a hundred and twenty species, in fact.’
‘Really?’ This question came from his mother.
‘Yes, really. We even had a dolphin a few years back, swimming between Putney Bridge and Hammersmith, only visiting, I’m sure, but a dolphin, nonetheless. Can you imagine the excitement?’
‘I can, actually!’ The girl stared at the water, as if picturing the pretty creature.
‘I’d like to go on a boat.’ The boy spoke with enthusiasm.
‘Well, there’s lots of them about.’ She liked the pluck of the little chap.
‘What are you doing?’ Using his cherry-red lolly as a pointer, he angled it towards her easel.
‘I am painting. Painting the river.’
‘Can I see it?’ Without waiting for a response, he walked closer and came to stand alongside her.
Paying no heed to the rules about personal space, he stared at the picture in its infancy, taking in the broad stripes of pale colour that she was building up, waiting for it to take shape so she could add in the depth, detail and movement.
‘What do you think?’ Lilly asked.
‘I don’t think it’s very good. I like dinosaurs.’
‘Apollo!’ His mum shouted her mortification, her hand against her brow. ‘I am so sorry!’
‘No, no, he’s absolutely allowed to express his opinion.
I love honest feedback, especially when it comes to art, and besides, he’s probably right.
I mean, is there any painting in the world that wouldn’t be made better by the addition of a dinosaur; the Mona Lisa with a triceratops peering over her shoulder? ’
‘The Hay Wain with the head of a diplodocus emerging from the lake?’
Lilly liked both the woman’s enthusiasm and her imagination.
‘Warhol’s tomato soup cans in the claws of a pterodactyl!’ Lilly added.
‘Oh!’ The young woman snapped her fingers. ‘The Last Supper with a T. rex taking up the fourteenth spot!’ They both laughed loudly at the thought of it.
‘I’m Lilly by the way. Lilly-Bob.’
‘Lilly-Bob? That’s quite a name too.’
‘Yes, but far better than Elizabeth-Roberta, which it was before my dad shortened it. I’m just called Lilly nowadays. No one has time for a long-winded double-barrelled name. We’re all in too much of a hurry.’
‘I’m Clodagh.’
‘Hello, Clodagh.’ She held the young woman’s gaze for a second and felt the connection forming. It was lovely.
‘We’ve just moved in.’ Clodagh pointed behind her, to the top floor.