Autumn in Sycamore Park, page 2
‘You made it to lunchtime without handing in your papers,’ said Miss Clairmont, standing by the door to the dining hall, a Paw Patrol apron tied around her waist. One of the dogs—Jennifer couldn’t guess at their names—had its eyes obscured by some old scorch mark. ‘It’s tough when you’re starting at a new school, isn’t it?’
Jennifer smiled. ‘It’s a work in progress,’ she said.
‘Miss Goldsmith had them from Reception to Year Two, and kids always bond with their first teacher. I’m Amy, by the way. Of course, you have to call me Miss Clairmont in front of the kids, otherwise Old Downton Abbey will have a fit.’
‘Is that his nickname?’
Amy glanced from side to side and smiled. ‘I didn’t tell you,’ she said. ‘The kids were straight on it a few years back when the show came out. The first kid to say it to his face got suspended, so it went underground. Now the show’s finished, it’s died out among the kids for the most part, but us teachers have longer memories.’
‘He’s certainly a little stern.’
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘If I survive long enough.’
Amy smiled. ‘I’d worry more about Rick than the kids.’
‘Rick? You mean, uh, Mr. Fellow?’
‘Our resident conquistador. You’re single, aren’t you?’
‘Ah—’
‘At least, there’s nothing on your finger. Mind you, if there was, he’d see it as a challenge.’
Jennifer was still struggling over how to respond when Amy shrugged. ‘Oh well. Time to get this next herd to the feeding troughs. Speak to you later.’
After having to break up a playground fight just after lunch, and then enduring a chaotic art class in sixth period when Gavin Gordon poured a pot of black paint over Matthew’s painting of sunflowers, causing the smaller boy to burst into tears, Jennifer was glad to hear the final bell and wave her children off for the day. She had anticipated having to stay late to deal with any emergency stuff that came up or report her progress to Greg, but the headmaster was out on business, while Rick had gone home early, allowing her to clear up and arrange some things for tomorrow without hassle. She shared a quick cup of tea with Amy, then headed back to her new flat at just after five p.m.
The threat of rain that had lingered most of the day had cleared up, leaving a beautiful, clear, afternoon sky to accompany her as she walked up the high street and past a Tesco Metro, where she grabbed something for dinner. As she climbed the stairs to her second floor flat, she paused, gave a little smile, and then knocked on the door.
A scrabble of paws came from inside, followed by a tirade of excited yapping. She opened the door and Bonky, her little toy poodle, practically jumped into her arms, before encircling her with a series of rapid turns, his little tail wagging frantically.
‘Right,’ she said, scooping the dog up and carrying him back into the flat, where many of her boxes still stood waiting to be unpacked. From his bed by the living room window, her cat, James, looked up, gave her a brief miaow as though to remind her of his existence, then resumed watching whatever was going on outside.
With Bonky still tucked under her arm, Jennifer scooted around the mess of her personal life, delivering tonight’s dinner to the narrow kitchen tacked on to the side of the slightly bigger living room, wishing she’d spent more time browsing for flats before deciding on this one. Honestly, though, it had looked a lot bigger in the pictures, and at least she could afford it. Even for a small town like Brentwell, the local rents were staggeringly high for a relative beginner teacher to afford.
To her frustration, she had forgotten to turn the fridge on, which meant the milk had gone sour. The margarine and the half finished tin of pasta sauce from yesterday would survive, but she had been dreaming of a coffee on her only chair all the way home. Still, she had passed a Spar on the way, and Bonky needed his walk, so she could pick up some milk on the way back.
Moving a couple of boxes aside, she fed a delighted Bonky, while James ambled over to nudge the vibrating dog aside and take his share. Then, giving her cat a quick, mostly ignored rub, Jennifer hunted out the dog’s lead from a box and pulled her jacket back on.
‘Walkies,’ she said, to which the little dog began to yap and spin in circles. James gave both of them a nonchalant glance before returning to his bed.
The day’s warmth still lingered as Jennifer urged the little dog along the edge of the pavement, Bonky content to inspect every patch of grass, litter bin, or lamp post. Having rattled through her late arrival yesterday and her frantic first day at work, Jennifer hadn’t had a chance to explore her new home. Now, with Bonky taking his time, she got to really look at her little suburb of Brentwell for the first time.
Her road, Willis Lane, was a long, meandering suburban street which connected at one end to the high street, and at the other to an industrial estate. Several other roads intersected with it, heading north and south, but until now Jennifer hadn’t had a chance to have a look at them. To the south, the houses were larger, detached buildings with neat front lawns. North, towards the old town centre, the houses were taller, Georgian and Edwardian terraces, most separated into flats or turned into offices for lawyers, accountants, and financial consultants. They looked very much alike, but as she reached a junction with a road called Sycamore Place, she noticed a stand of trees at the far end surrounding the entrance to a park.
‘That looks a bit more interesting than your lamp post,’ she said to Bonky, as he cocked his leg over a patch of weeds. ‘Let’s go.’
It took about ten minutes to coax the dog to the entrance of the park, but as she stepped through a pair of open cast iron gates, Jennifer couldn’t help but smile at the sign attached to one.
Welcome to Sycamore Park
Tarmac footpaths curved away to the right and left, beneath towering sycamore, oak, and beech trees. In front of her was a gentle grassy slope leading up to a rock feature at its peak. Through the trees to the right she spotted a children’s play area. To the left, a duck pond surrounded by benches. A signpost told her that to the north was the public library, to the west, the town theatre.
The sun, low in the sky, was glittering through the branches of the trees. A light, tickling breeze blew, making the leaves rustle. Jennifer gave a contented smile, as all her frustrations melted away. As another dog walker gave her a polite smile and said ‘Good evening,’ Jennifer smiled back, then reached down and patted Bonky.
‘Well, look what treasure we’ve found,’ she said.
3
Oak Leaf Café
According to a sign by the entrance, dogs under a certain size were free to be let off their leads, so Jennifer unclipped Bonky’s harness and let him rush off on a pigeon hunt. Jennifer ambled slowly after him, enjoying the cool tickle of the breeze on her face, and the occasional warmth of the evening sun as it caught her through the trees.
With a couple of hours of daylight left, Sycamore Park was quite busy. Several young mothers stood talking by the play area while their preschool-aged children clambered on the climbing frames and played on the swings and slides. Several other dog walkers wandered along a series of smaller paths off the main circular one, or chased their dogs across the grassy field. A young couple walked arm in arm. A couple of old men sat on a bench near the duck pond, talking quietly. On a paved courtyard outside the theatre, a group of students appeared to be rehearsing for a play.
With a gruff bark, Bonky caught sight of a pigeon seemingly up for the challenge, and raced in pursuit up the grassy slope towards the rock feature. Jennifer followed, catching up with the dog near the top as he paused to regard the pigeon, now perched out of reach on one of the large stones laid around in a rough circle. It cooed once at the dog, then flapped off to the branches of a nearby tree.
Jennifer sat down on one of the stones. From here you could see the whole park. The main walking path made a complete circle, with numerous other pathways leading to monuments or secluded play areas. To the south and east, the surrounding streets were residential, with the thickest patch of trees and the theatre over to the west. To the north, a small car park stood beside the library, a two-storey Georgian building. Outside were a newspaper stand and a couple of other stalls, now closed. Down a small, tree-lined side road on the library’s right, tables and chairs were set out on a pedestrian-only street, a signboard Jennifer couldn’t read at this distance standing among them.
‘Shall we go and take a look?’ Jennifer said to the little dog, who had sat down on the grass and was watching her, tongue lolling. ‘Might be a bit more interesting than dinner out of a plastic packet. Do you think James will mind?’
The dog gave her a little bark and wagged his tail. Of course the cat wouldn’t mind.
‘Let’s go, then.’
She attached Bonky’s harness again and headed down the slope. The library was closed—at six p.m., a sign on the door said—but the little café appeared to be open, even though no one was sitting outside. Jennifer paused, looking at the sign over the door.
Oak Leaf Café.
The front was wood paneled with the name carved into a larger piece over the door. The tables were also wooden, and while Jennifer suspected they were pine rather than oak, each had a little vase of autumn twigs and leaves in the centre, adding to the quaintness. Next to a triangular menu, salt and pepper pots were also made out of wood.
‘What do you think?’ she said to the little dog, who appeared insistent on inspecting each chair leg in turn. ‘Although, it’s a little chilly.’
‘Feel free to bring the little guy inside,’ came a voice from the doorway, and Jennifer looked up to see a middle-aged woman leaning on the door frame, wearing a maple leaf-designed apron over jeans and a white t-shirt. Grey-flecked light brown hair was tied back into a ponytail. Bright green eyes sparkled through the glasses she wore, and a face that still retained a hint of youthful beauty gave Jennifer a warm smile.
‘Oh, would that be all right?’
The woman waved. ‘Sure. I’ve even got some food out the back somewhere if he’s hungry.’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘Come in and have a look at the menu if you’re interested. I love the wind off the park in this season, but it gets a little chilly once the sun goes behind the theatre.’
Jennifer went into a pretty, wood-panelled interior. Six wooden tables stood neatly arranged in front of a countertop. In little nooks and alcoves, pots of dried flowers stood, giving off a gentle lavender aroma. On the wall, framed posters identified various varieties of pumpkins and squashes. Antique cooking pots and utensils lined shelves in front of the windows delicately framed with lace curtains.
One table by the window had a view of Sycamore Park. ‘That one,’ Jennifer said. ‘I’d like to sit there, please.’
‘Take your pick,’ the woman said. ‘We’re not exactly bursting at the seams.’ She smiled again. ‘My name is Angela. Angela Dawson. With only the two of us here, I don’t think it would be proper to remain strangers, would it?’
‘I suppose not. I’m Jennifer. Jennifer Stevens. I just moved to Brentwell. Yesterday, actually. I work at the local primary. Today was my first day.’
‘Busy times! I don’t know how you young people handle it. I get tired just walking around the park in the morning. And who’s this little guy?’
Angela bent down to pet Bonky, who lapped up the attention with a frantic wag of his tail.
‘Ah, his name is Bonky. He’s two years old.’
‘I had a toy poodle as a child, many, many years ago. Lovely little things.’ Angela stood up. ‘Bonky? That’s … interesting.’
For the first year or so, Jennifer had always felt a flush off embarrassment telling people the name of her dog, but she had got used to it. After all, it was just a name, albeit a little unusual.
‘Yeah, the kids at my old school chose it. I was having a few issues with some of them, and I thought getting them to choose the name for my dog would be a form of bonding. I was expecting something generic like Harry or Rover, but … nope. Bonky. They came up with Bonky.’ She shrugged. ‘And so it stuck.’
‘Well, it’s kind of cute, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Is that why you came to Brentwell? Because you were having problems at your old school?’
Jennifer might have expected the question from Rick or Amy or one of the other teachers, but due to the new-term rush she’d so far avoided it. Hearing it from Angela had caught her off guard, and she stared at the older lady openmouthed, then gave a little shake of her head.
‘Uh, that’s not all of it.’
Angela gave a shrug. ‘I’m sorry, I was prying. How about we sort you out with something to eat. There’s a menu there, but I’m afraid we’re out of season so you’re stuck with whatever I’ve got cooking. Today’s special is cheese, apple, and potato pie with homemade gravy, seasonal vegetables, and fried pear fritters for desert. Would that do?’
Jennifer stared. She thought about the meagre supplies back at her flat and gave a slow nod.
‘That would be just great. In fact, it would be more than great.’
‘Excellent. Coming right up.’
Angela disappeared into a kitchen behind the counter, and soon delightful smells began to waft through, reminding Jennifer that she hadn’t eaten anything since a sandwich at lunchtime. Bonky settled down at her feet, and Jennifer picked a home décor magazine off a nearby rack and began to browse through picturesque designs of autumn-themed homes and gardens. Even before Angela reappeared with a large plate loaded with steaming pie and vegetables, the day’s traumas already felt resolved and compartmentalised. Tomorrow was a new day, as they said.
‘Well, here you are.’
‘I’m not sure I can eat all that,’ Jennifer said with a smile, even though she fully planned to try.
‘Actually, I want to bake another in the morning, so I tried to give you all that was left. I couldn’t quite fit it on the plate, so I’ve put it in a Tupperware for you to take home. That’s if you like it, of course. If you don’t, not to worry. Just pass it on to a neighbour.’
‘I haven’t met mine yet. In fact, I haven’t actually unpacked yet either.’
Angela waved a hand. ‘There’s always tomorrow. Anyway, you enjoy your meal. I’ll just bring a little something for Bonky, plus perhaps a cushion. The floor might be a little hard.’
Angela started to walk away, but Jennifer put up a hand and muttered, ‘Uh, excuse me…?’ in a way that reminded her of some of the more shy members of her class.
‘Yes?’
‘Um, if you haven’t eaten, would you like to join me?’ Jennifer shrugged. ‘Bonky isn’t the best for conversation, particularly when he’s tired. Chasing all those pigeons, you know….’
Angela looked at her a moment, then shrugged. ‘Well, sure. If you’ll indulge me a little. You walked here, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Perfect.’
Angela went back into the kitchen, then returned a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘Chilean Red,’ she said, holding up the bottle. ‘Perfect for an autumn evening.’ She winked. ‘It’s a little chilly, and the skies are red … sorry, that’s a shocker.’
It took Jennifer a moment to catch the attempted joke, but when she did, she gave a sympathetic laugh. ‘I’ve heard worse. And far ruder, too.’
‘Well, let’s drink to autumn, to long, cool evenings, and to new friends.’
Almost to signal his agreement, Bonky looked up and gave a sharp bark.
Jennifer took the offered glass and smiled. ‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said.
4
Big Gerry
Angela Dawson proved enlightening and entertaining company. Jennifer still had a smile on her face the next morning when she woke up, surrounded by piles of unpacked boxes. Bonky was in his basket beside the bed, and James was curled up between her feet. The sun was streaming through a window she had not yet had time to hang with curtains, and the alarm clock on her bedside table read 6.45 a.m.
Bonky, as astute as ever, immediately noticed Jennifer was awake, and began to make a fuss. She hauled herself out of bed, got herself ready for work, fed a lethargic James, then grabbed Bonky’s lead and together they headed out for his morning walk.
At just after seven, the sun was still yet to appear, and street lights were still on even though the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. With not a cloud in the sky it looked like the beginning of another beautiful autumn day, even if the air was chilly enough to make Jennifer thankful for her jacket.
The streets were empty besides a couple of morning joggers and dog walkers. Jennifer wandered down Willis Lane to the junction with Sycamore Place. At the far end, the gates to Sycamore Park stood open in the gloom.
Bonky seemed keen to go that way.
‘Okay, why not?’
Jennifer led the dog up to the park. Under the trees it was mostly dark, but street lights along the park’s paths gave enough light for the joggers and dog walkers to navigate by. She took Bonky over to the duck pond, where a number of birds sat around the water, their heads tucked under their wings. She kept the dog on his lead so as not to disturb them, but Bonky was happy enough to inspect the bushes instead.
They did a quick circuit of the park. When they passed the Oak Leaf Café, Jennifer looked up at the windows, but they were still dark. Angela, all laughter and tall tales, had kept her longer than she had planned, until way after the café’s official closing time. A sign on the door said that it opened for breakfast at eight, so with a wry smile, Jennifer hoped Angela made it.
Back at the house half an hour later, she grabbed her school things and headed out. The thought of work put an immediate dampener on everything, but at least she could look forward to a walk in the park after work, especially if the skies stayed clear. As she walked up Willis Lane to the high street, she felt better than she had at any time since her rushed and abrupt departure from Dottingham.
