Wildflower Park Series

‘Don’t get too excited. There wasn’t much available at such short notice. I’ve found a farm who have converted a barn into hostel-style accommodation and they teach dry-stone walling but I think we can make the best of it.’

‘Sounds like fun.’

Anna felt they would have to add quite a bit of alcohol to get it to that level but she was willing to give it a go, though she was more concerned about the motivations of senior management in sending them all off on something like this – now Hudson had sown that particular seed.

‘I hope I can cope with being in a confined space with Hudson,’ said Sophie, looking both worried and dreamy-eyed.

‘You still having improper thoughts?’ Anna tried hard to hide a smirk. It was funny to think of her having a crush on someone at her age.

‘Stop it.’ Sophie gave her a playful swipe. ‘All the time. If anything it’s getting worse. I can barely take in what he’s saying because I’m concentrating hard not to grab him and snog his face off.’

Anna’s expression conveyed her alarm. ‘Bloody hell. Really?’

‘Really,’ said Sophie, sounding miserable. ‘I wish I could stop it but I’ve tried and I can’t. I’ve tried imagining him sitting on the loo and kissing his partner … not at the same time … but even at the same time, nothing works. Whenever I’m near him there’s this electricity, this magnetic attraction. He helped me put my coat on the other day and I was actually aroused.’ Sophie was deadly serious.

‘You poor thing. Did you go home and shag Dave’s brains out?’

Sophie recoiled. ‘Goodness, no. Why would I do that?’

‘Because he’s your husband.’

‘But it’s not him who’s turning me on,’ she said and her face returned to its disappointed resting state.

Anna went off to visit Bert. She stopped at the paper shop on the way to pick up some toffees and a big Sunday paper; she wasn’t sure if he was a broadsheet kind of person but she didn’t want to look like a cheapskate.

‘Hello again,’ said the carer, coming through reception. ‘Bert’s in his room.’ She pointed back up the corridor.

Anna walked past the television room, past two closed doors with the number five and six on before coming to one with an open door. She gave a quick squiz round the door, unsure of what she’d find. Bert was sitting in an armchair staring out of the window.

‘Hello, Bert, I brought you a paper,’ said Anna, walking in and plonking the paper on his lap and herself on what she supposed was a footstool.

Bert glanced at Anna and then at the paper on his lap. ‘Didn’t think I’d see you again.’

‘I said I’d come back. And I got you these,’ she said, putting the toffees onto a small table in front of him. He squinted at them and then returned to looking out of the window.

‘How’s Maurice?’

‘He’s great,’ said Anna with gusto, ‘but he’s still missing you,’ she added hastily.

Bert’s shoulders jumped as he gave a short laugh. ‘I bet he’s forgotten me.’

‘I doubt it. Maurice forgets nothing. I gave him his food on a saucer because his two bowls were both in the dishwasher and now he expects every meal on a china saucer. You do something once and that’s it.’

Bert chuckled. ‘You’re right. If he likes something he expects it all the time. I once left a cardigan on the sofa and that was his bed for weeks.’

Anna got out her phone. ‘I’ve got some more photos of him,’ she said, flicking to the right pictures and handing the phone to Bert. He returned to looking out of the window. ‘It’s all right, I’ll remember him how he was.’ Anna switched off her phone and put it back in her pocket.

‘Has he brought you any presents yet?’ asked Bert. There was a twinkle in his eye.

‘No. He’s not a bird catcher is he?’ Anna was enjoying watching the birds flitting in and out of the park while she had her morning coffee; she didn’t like the thought of having to deal with any in kit form.

‘No, he doesn’t catch birds. He brings in other things. The occasional mouse.’ Bert looked off into the distance again and Anna checked her watch; it was too soon to leave without seeming rude. She surveyed the room. It was nice enough but there didn’t appear to be anything personal in it. The picture she had given him of Maurice was propped up on his bedside cabinet next to a black and white wedding photo. ‘Is that you?’ she asked, nodding at the photo.

‘Is what me?’

Anna got up to have a closer look. ‘This photo of a strapping young groom and his beautiful bride.’ She studied the two beaming faces staring back at her. From the style of clothes they were wearing she guessed it was probably the Sixties.

‘Me and my Barbara. Tenth of July nineteen fifty-nine.’

‘She’s beautiful, Bert.’

Bert sniffed. ‘She was that. No one like her.’

‘Can I ask what happened?’ asked Anna, replacing the picture and sitting back on the stool.

‘Barbara died four years ago. We were doing the washing up and she said she had a headache. I teased her for trying to shirk doing the drying up – she hated doing the drying. She went for a lie-down. I finished off and made her a cup of tea and when I took it into her … she was gone.’ Anna swallowed and Bert let out a sigh. ‘Massive brain haemorrhage apparently – she wouldn’t have known much about it.’

Anna reached out and patted Bert gently on the hand. He flinched at the touch but let his hand rest beneath hers just for a moment, before pulling it away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meaning it.

‘Our Maurice called for her for days, wandered the house making this pitiful meow, because he couldn’t understand where she was. He was her cat really. She was a big Bee Gees fan you see,’ he said, glancing at Anna, his eyes weighed down with sadness.

Anna nodded. ‘Maurice Gibb.’

‘Yes,’ said Bert, revealing a proper smile. The stories of Barbara, him and Maurice flowed until Anna checked her watch and an hour had gone by.

‘Bert, I need to make a move, but I’ll see you next week. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to bring? Different paper, biscuits?’ She almost offered something alcoholic but guessed that wouldn’t be allowed.

‘Assuming you can’t smuggle in a Guinness, I’d love a proper coffee. Americano with hot milk they call it. Sounds fancy but tastes bloody marvellous. They have instant here and it’s not the same. Here, let me pay you for it.’ He put his hand onto the table next to him and picked up a coaster and then put it down again quickly. ‘Now, where did I put my wallet?’

‘It’s okay, Bert, you can pay me when I bring it. Take care of yourself.’

‘Say hello to Maurice for me.’

‘I will,’ she said and she left. Bert had another feel about on the table for his wallet; he reached a bit further forward and his fingertips touched the familiar soft worn leather. He moved it to where he wanted it, folded the newspaper and put it in the bin next to him.

‘Bert,’ said Anna as she put her head back around his door. ‘Do you take sugar?’ She spotted the newspaper in the bin.

‘Uh. No, thanks,’ said Bert, clearly taken by surprise.

Anna paused for a moment, thinking. Pieces of a puzzle she had spotted before slotted into place. ‘You can’t see, can you?’

Bert sighed and continued to stare towards the window. ‘Nope, not much. I’m not totally blind but it’s not far off.’ His voice hardened. ‘That’s why they put me in here, said I wasn’t coping.’

‘And were you?’ asked Anna, returning to the footstool.

‘I like you; you ask the questions others want to avoid. And, no, towards the end I had a couple of falls. But one of those was because some stupid home help cleaner put the kitchen bin in the wrong place. That was not my fault … And I fed Maurice a tin of beef casserole.’

Anna laughed and Bert joined in. ‘No wonder he’s a fussy eater,’ said Anna, leaning over and picking the newspaper out of the bin. ‘I can stop a bit longer. Shall I read you the good bits out of the paper?’

Anna wondered if Bert’s pride would kick in but his mouth lifted at the edges. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

‘Headlines or sport first?’

‘Always the sport,’ said Bert, getting himself comfortable.

Anna went home smiling and feeling like she’d made a friend. Probably the oddest friendship on the planet after the lion who made friends with a baby gazelle, but a friendship all the same. She liked Bert and, since her beloved grandad had passed away a few years ago, there was a vacancy in her life for someone like him. Her mobile signalled the arrival of a message. She took a quick peek when she stopped at the traffic lights: Hiya, A, How’s your weekend going? C.

Anna texted a quick reply: All good thanks :-) A and she pressed send quickly as the lights changed. Just as she was about to berate herself for not asking a question back, the phone started to ring and Anna felt a rush of excitement and something else: was it trepidation? She hadn’t banked on C calling her. She pressed the button on her steering wheel so she could answer and drive at the same time. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice uncertain and cautious.

‘Hi, Anna. We thought you’d emigrated.’

‘Hi, Dad.’ Relief mixed with a little disappointment washed over her. ‘How are you?’

‘We’re fine apart from your mum spending all her time on Facebook. She says you haven’t done much recently.’ They were stalking her again.

‘I’ve been busy at work.’ Anna indicated and went around the traffic island.

‘Could you not just make some stuff up? Your mum worries.’ Anna shook her head. She loved her parents but sometimes they were a bit overwhelming.

Chapter Nine

Sophie found herself sitting outside Arlo’s classroom with mounting dread creeping up her spine. She’d had a phone call shortly after lunch asking if she could come in to discuss Arlo’s behaviour. They didn’t give her any other details and now she had gone over about eighty different scenarios in her head, each one more serious than the last. Arlo was sitting at her side swinging his legs and despite a thorough grilling, it appeared he genuinely didn’t have a clue as to why they were there either.

The door opened and Mrs Armitage beckoned her inside. ‘Arlo, please wait quietly whilst I speak to your mummy. We won’t be long.’

Sophie gave Arlo the look and followed the teacher inside.

‘Thanks for coming in at short notice but we felt we needed to nip this in the bud quite quickly.’

Sophie took the stupidly small child-sized seat that Mrs Armitage offered her and wondered if teachers did that on purpose to put you at a disadvantage. ‘Okay. What’s the problem?’ Sophie was already feeling defensive. Arlo was cheeky but it was part of his character, his interminable spirit. He wasn’t a bad kid.

‘It’s Arlo’s language. He’s been shouting swear words.’

Bollarding Dave, thought Sophie. She was careful to moderate her language around the children but Dave wasn’t as good. ‘Okay, I’m sorry. What’s he been saying exactly?’

As if on cue Arlo began running up and down outside the office shouting what sounded a lot like ‘Waaaaa-an-ker!’

And the teacher gave a curt nod at the door. ‘This is what he’s been shouting at the top of his voice for most of the day.’

Sophie had never felt this smug in all her life. ‘He’s into pirates so we went to London to see the Cutty Sark. One of the volunteers was quite theatrical and they told him what they used to shout and one of those things was weigh anchor.’ Sophie emphasised the last two words.

Arlo bellowed from the corridor. ‘Waaaa-an-ker!’

‘I think that’s fairly clear. Don’t you?’ Sophie raised one eyebrow and waited for Mrs Armitage to respond. She turned the colour any tomato would be proud of whilst Sophie revelled in her discomfort.

‘Oh, I see,’ said Mrs Armitage at last. ‘I’m sure you can see our confusion and …’

‘No,’ said Sophie, forcing herself to keep a straight face. ‘What else could a five-year-old possibly be saying?’

Mrs Armitage narrowed her eyes and Sophie wondered for a moment if perhaps she shouldn’t have backed her into this particular corner. ‘Arlo is a boisterous child who needs firm boundaries and …’

‘You shouldn’t jump to assumptions about him. Whilst he can be boisterous, on this occasion I think I’m right in saying he’s done nothing wrong.’

‘Indeed, Mrs Butterworth.’ Mrs Armitage dropped her head in defeat.

‘And if he starts saying something that sounds like Big Hairy Sex …’ she paused and Mrs Armitage tried to control a facial tick ‘… he’s talking about the film Big Hero Six. It’s his favourite at the moment.’

‘Of course,’ said Mrs Armitage, letting out a long breath. ‘Sorry to have wasted your time.’

Sophie was happy with the apology. ‘That’s fine. We’ll speak to him about being boisterous.’

‘Thank you.’ They both stood up and Sophie was thrilled that the little chair wasn’t stuck to her bottom as she’d feared it might be. She failed to hide her smug grin as she exited the room. Arlo was hurtling towards her and came to an abrupt halt.

‘Calm down now, Arlo, time to go home.’

‘Mummy, today I learned a new word and that word was … fuck.’ Sophie rushed him away from the classroom without a backward glance.

It wasn’t just raining, it was a torrential downpour of biblical proportions – a somewhat fitting start to the work bonding session. Anna was unhappy at going away and leaving Maurice but her mum had promised to call round twice a day to feed him and give him a cuddle. Anna had decided she wouldn’t mention the two mice he’d brought round for a play date, which she’d had to catch and release into the park. She had suggested her mum might want to have a chat to Maurice as he was probably used to the conversations Anna had with him daily. Her mum had then proceeded to question her mental health, which was thoughtful but a little unnecessary.

After the short ride from the station the taxi deposited Anna and Sophie at the farmhouse where they were welcomed by a tall, ruddy man in a well-worn green jumper. Anna was pleased to discover they were the first to arrive. The farmer strode off to show them the barn and Sophie dragged her wheelie case across the muddy puddled ground with gusto, mud splashing up the sides. Anna was glad to get inside and dropped her bag by the door.

‘Toilets and showers here,’ he said, gesturing to the left. He opened a door to their right where there was a wood burner in front of three large sofas. ‘Kitchen at the back, that’s it downstairs. Two dorms upstairs. Here’s a key. Lunch will be up at the farmhouse at 1 p.m. I’ll do the health and safety briefing after lunch and then we’ll head off to the top field and show you the ropes with dry-stone. Give us a shout if you need anything else.’

‘Thanks,’ said Anna, taking the key and shutting the door behind him as he strode out into the rain.

‘I like this place. It’s rustic,’ said Sophie, shaking off her wet coat and hanging it up by the door where it liberally dripped onto the flagstone floor.

So far, so good, thought Anna, picking up her bag and heading upstairs. The two rooms were identical with three sets of built-in bunk beds each, open shelving and views across rolling countryside crisscrossed by pale-coloured dry-stone walls. Anna laid claim to a top bunk near the window. She’d briefly had bunk beds when she was a child but a change in circumstances had seen her room redecorated and the bunk beds had disappeared. Sophie flopped down on the bed underneath Anna’s and stretched out.

‘Ooh, comfy bed. I might not move from here. Two days of sleep should just about catch me back up. I’m fed up of being tired all the time. It’s really tiring.’ There wasn’t even a hint of irony in her voice.

Anna turned and spotted herself in a large wood-framed mirror. She looked a fright. The rain had made her straight dark hair limp and her make-up had run.

‘The caught-in-the-rain look is always attractive.’ Anna wiped away the dripping mascara from under her eyes.

Sophie joined her at the mirror and studied herself. ‘My neck’s gone all red and blotchy.’

‘Another lusty flush and Hudson’s not even here yet.’

Sophie opened her mouth to speak but the sound of the door opening downstairs stopped her.

‘Hey, anyone at home?’ came Hudson’s dulcet tones.

‘Bugger,’ said Anna with feeling, giving her eyes one last sweep with her fingers before she headed downstairs to meet him, zhooshing up her hair as she went. She found him hanging up his coat. His hair was wet but it seemed a quick headshake and a rough comb with his fingers was all it needed to have him pristine again. Something else to add to the long list of things she didn’t like about him.

‘Hey, Anna. This place is great. Shall we go and explore?’ He reminded her of someone from the Famous Five, but in a good way.

‘Yes, let’s,’ came the equally Enid Blyton response from Sophie who was now barrelling down the stairs at speed.

‘Hey, Sophie, you look amazing.’ He kissed her cheek lightly and Anna tried not to frown at the difference in warmth level of the greetings. But why did she care? She didn’t.

‘Aww, you’re just saying that. Come and pick your bed,’ said Sophie, turning around and heading back upstairs. For someone who was tired out a few minutes ago she’d made a remarkable recovery. Hudson definitely had a confidence-boosting effect on Sophie, although given the reaction of all the females in the office, she wasn’t alone.

While Sophie was showing Hudson around, the door opened and pretty much everyone else arrived, instantly filling up the small space and creating a large puddle in the hallway. It didn’t take long to sort out who was sleeping where and for opinions to be shared on the mixed shower and toilet situation. Anna tried to point out that if they were staying at someone’s house it would be the same but with four showers and three toilets they were fairly well covered.

Anna was handing out a quiz to help everyone relax when she spotted a taxi pull up outside. Roberta got out and headed towards the farmhouse. She was hunkered down due to the rain. Anna was watching her as a second person with their head covered by a hoodie got out from the taxi and ran to join her.

‘Right, everyone. Looks like Roberta’s arrived. We’d better head over to the farmhouse. You can complete the quiz over lunch.’ She was still speaking as she shrugged on her coat. She was interested to find out who the other person was – everyone she had been told to invite was here. The rain lashed at her as she opened the door and she wished she’d brought a coat with a hood. She turned up her collar and jogged across to the farmhouse with the others trailing behind her. The farmer opened the door and ushered everyone inside where they made more puddles with their wet coats.

They gathered in a very large conservatory where Roberta was waiting for them and she went straight into corporate mode and gave them a pep talk. Anna was only half listening. She was squeezing rain from her hair and trying to work out where the other person had gone and who they were. Anna tuned back in again.

‘The question is: who’s in my canoe?’ asked Roberta. She was deadly serious.

A few hands started to go up and Anna joined in. Karl leaned over. ‘Heading for shit creek without a …’ Anna nudged him because Roberta was glaring at them. Roberta went on to explain that she wouldn’t be taking part in the dry-stone walling as she had to get back to the office for important meetings.

‘This project is paramount to the company and to that end we have a consultant joining us for the next three months to ensure that we maximise its potential,’ said Roberta, gesturing to the back of the room. Everyone turned in unison to see the figure standing in the doorway. Anna tried to swallow but her throat was bone-dry.

‘This is Liam Tinch. He has extensive experience in Lean Methodologies and is so excited to be part of the team that he volunteered to start early and join you for the next couple of days.’

Liam made his way to the front whilst Sophie repeatedly patted Anna’s arm as if trying to alert her to what she could see very plainly for herself. At no point did his eyes alight on Anna. She was standing with her mouth open until she realised and shut it hastily.

‘Thanks, Roberta. No speech from me. I’m thrilled to be here. Please treat me like one of the team. I can’t wait to get started.’ Anna stared at him. Too many questions were flooding her mind as well as a number of expletives. A clammy sensation drifted over her and she tried hard to distil all the hurt into anger.

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