Authors: Katie Fforde
‘It’s my goddaughter’s little girl. She has everything, including a pony. Really, there’s nothing left for me to buy her.’
‘Well, why not a name for her door?’
Sian tensed, waiting to spring into action, mentally calculating how to fit something like ‘Mellasina’ on to one of her prepared boards.
‘She’s got one,’ said the woman.
Sian relaxed, half disappointed, half relieved.
‘Ah, but my colleague here could put her name on one of these boxes. How about that?’
Oh golly, thought Sian, I hope this child has got a really short name.
‘Ah, now that is a nice idea. It would last her for ever, wouldn’t it? But these boxes are all painted. There’s no space for a name.’
‘Sian!’ ordered Jody, ‘come out from behind there and help this lady!’
Sian, blushing and sweating, came out. ‘Sorry, I was just doing something. How can I help? You’d like a name on one of these boxes? I can do that for you. Which box and what name would you like? I can just blank out some of the decoration and paint in the name. Although you would have to come back a bit later.’
The woman shook her head, but then spotted a larger box at the back of the stall. ‘This hasn’t got too much on it. Maybe you could fit the name in there without blanking anything out? I’m in a bit of a hurry.’
‘What name would you like?’
‘Zoë. Do you think you could do that while I wait?’
Sian took a breath. It shouldn’t be a problem at all, but somehow the thought of painting a name in front of her customer’s very eyes was daunting. ‘Why don’t I practise on one of my blank name boards so you can see if you like the lettering and then you could go round the rest of the market while I do it?’
Fortunately Sian’s hand kept steady, she remembered how to do a zed and there was room to further customise the box with a few poppies, which apparently were Zoë’s favourite flower. Even the umlaut on top of the ‘e’ went well. The woman went away a bit later with the box under her arm and a satisfied smile on her face.
‘You should have charged her extra for putting the name on,’ said Jody, ever-practical.
‘I know, but I didn’t like to.’
But it turned out to be a loss leader. Several people had spotted her painting the name and wanted name boards. She began to relax and was soon producing unicorns, sea horses and dragonflies without hesitation or a need to rough anything out first. She also sold a lot of cushions, discovering she was in fact a demon saleswoman as long as it wasn’t her own work.
By lunchtime, the early crowds had drifted away and Jody and Sian were beginning to get tired and hungry. ‘I reckon we’ve done a day’s work by now,’ said Jody.
‘How many more people are we likely to get?’ Sian rearranged her remaining stock yet again, and then plumped Jody’s stock of cushions, which had been replenished twice from her stash in the car.
‘Not that many. Milly over there is packing up.’ Milly sold soaps and bath oils and did a brisk trade with the going-to-a-dinner-party-need-a-gift trade.
They were just about to give each other permission to do the same when Fiona and Gus strolled up.
‘Oh, look at that old dressing table! What an improvement!’ said Fiona. Then she kissed Sian and introduced Gus to Jody.
‘Lovely cushions, I must have one, but, Gus, look at that dressing table!’
‘Must I, very pretty and all that, but dressing tables aren’t really my thing.’ He kissed Sian and then kissed Jody too.
‘But it was ours! I gave it to Sian to decorate. It was that horrid orange oak.’
‘Fiona, I was planning to give it back to you. If you’d like it, I’d be thrilled.’
‘No,’ said Gus firmly. ‘Unless you want it in your bedroom. We’re getting rid of the crap, not adding to it.’ He winked, trying to imply he was teasing, but not quite making it.
Fiona shook her head slightly in irritation. ‘Gus, honestly!’ She looked at the two younger women. ‘He’s on this purge, getting rid of all the things in the attic that have lived there happily for years.’
As Sian knew that Fiona had wanted to get rid of all the surplus furniture, she guessed the problem was just that Gus was making her do it a bit faster than she would have done on her own.
‘Gus, maybe I could interest you in a name board?’ she said, feeling his high-handed attitude to the dressing table should be punished. ‘I could do a Gus – or Angus even – in two ticks. I’ve really got my hand in.’
Gus stood over her, pretending to contemplate the idea, stroking his chin with his fingers.
‘Or maybe have a cushion, Fiona. They can’t be considered clutter, can they?’ Sian went on. ‘This one would look lovely in the conservatory.’
‘So it would. I’ll have it.’
While she was paying, Gus inspected Sian’s remaining stock intently, picking up the pieces and inspecting them. ‘Yes,’ he said suddenly. ‘I do want you to do a name board for me.’
‘Oh, great,’ said Sian, slightly surprised. She hadn’t expected him to really want one. ‘Which name do you want? Gus, or Angus?’
‘Melissa,’ he said. ‘It would make a great present.’
‘Oh,’ said Sian, when she could speak, which took a second or two. ‘Is it her birthday?’
‘Yes, and she’s being quite helpful to me at the moment. I’d like to give her something nice.’
‘Well, I’m flattered and a little surprised that you consider my little offerings “something nice”,’ said Sian, fighting a losing battle with waspishness. ‘After the way you reacted to the dressing table,’ she added, so he wouldn’t think she was in any way jealous of Melissa.
‘I just don’t think we need it,’ he said firmly. ‘Now, any chance of some little ponies on Lissa’s name? I always think of her on a pony, somehow.’
‘I tell you what, I’ll do a much better job if I do it at home,’ she said, her pride demanding that Melissa’s name was perfect and the ponies pure Thelwell, barrel-shaped with their tails sticking straight out behind. ‘I could drop it round to you. When do you need it by?’
‘Friday, if possible. I’m taking her out for a birthday drink.’
‘Fine! No problem.’ She smiled brightly, as if he was just another customer.
‘Great. Sian, I was wondering—’
‘Oh look,’ said Sian delightedly. ‘Here comes Richard!’
She’d been expecting him back in time for Rory’s birthday – he’d promised – but he must have been able to get away earlier. And he’d arrived at just the right time!
‘Hi, girls, Gus,’ said Richard. ‘Would anyone mind if I took Sian out for lunch?’
Lunch out with Richard wasn’t actually all that exciting although he was pleasant enough company. They’d had many lunches out together before, after all. But even if it had been the dullest thing ever it would have been worth it to see the expression on Gus’s face. With a grin, she happily strolled off with Richard in the direction of the local bar.
Although she knew it had lots and lots of advantages, Sian rather wished she hadn’t accepted Fiona’s offer to have Rory’s birthday party in her garden. She discussed it with her mother.
‘It’s an awful upheaval for her. I should tell her I’ll have it here.’
‘Don’t do that! She’d be terribly hurt. Besides, I’m longing to meet her. Why don’t you want to have it at her house?’
Sian couldn’t tell her mother why. She knew she’d have to sooner or later, and probably would when her mother came down for Rory’s party, but she couldn’t do it on the phone. ‘I don’t know really. It just seems an imposition.’
‘She had no reason to offer if she didn’t want to have it,’ said Sian’s mother firmly.
Sian bit her lip to stop herself saying, ‘Oh yes there is,’ in a pantomime way.
‘Anyway, I want to see her house,’ her mother said. ‘And yours is too small for a party if it rains. Oh, and I presume Richard is coming? He’s such a nice man.’
He was, Sian acknowledged, if only he took up half as much of her thoughts as Gus seemed to do these days. He would be the perfect husband: reliable, dependable, loving; everything that Gus wouldn’t be. She could see that Rory liked Gus but even if she felt he’d be a good father she still wasn’t sure reliable and dependable – or even faithful – were words to best describe him.
She and Rory were baking together when Gus knocked on the back door and walked in.
Seeing him was a shock. She’d managed to avoid him, apart from brief moments, quite well since she’d delivered the name board for Melissa. Then she’d just stood on the doorstep, refusing to come in, and handed it over. Now he was in her kitchen, filling the space with his energy – and she was horribly aware that Fiona’s deadline to tell him about Rory was looming. In fact it was the very next day.
‘Hi, guys,’ he said. ‘Come on. I need you.’
‘Actually I’m quite busy here,’ said Sian. ‘Baking for Rory’s birthday party.’
‘We’re going to ice the biscuits in a minute,’ said Rory. He still had the remnants of chocolate from where he’d licked the bowl round his mouth and flour on his sleeve.
‘Cooking’s for girls!’ said Gus, glancing at Sian, obviously hoping for a reaction. ‘I need help with some men’s stuff.’
‘Then you don’t need me,’ said Sian tartly. ‘And Rory, though obviously a big boy’ – she looked at him encouragingly – ‘could hardly be described as a man.’
‘Obviously neither of you are men, but you’re all I can get at short notice. Come on!’ He wasn’t going to accept any excuses.
‘What do you want us for?’ asked Rory, obviously keen to be a man, if just for a little while.
‘Need help building the shelter for your party! Mum and I thought it would be fun to have something different. Kids always have clowns or entertainers or something and we – well OK, it was my idea – thought having a shelter to play in would be much more fun.’
‘Oh,’ said Sian. ‘Well, I do have quite a bit to do here. Can’t you manage on your own?’
‘Nope! It would take too long and also, why should the birthday boy miss out on a treat like building a shelter?’
The birthday boy looked at his mother, obviously wanting to help Gus very much. Gus also looked at her and Sian found herself unable to resist two pairs of eyes – mostly because they matched; she found Rory hard enough to resist. Gus, who was a giant version of her son with different colour hair, was just as appealing, only in a worryingly different way.
‘OK, I suppose so.’ She took off her apron, feigning reluctance. ‘I’ll have to ice these after you’ve gone to bed, Rory. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay and do them now?’
‘Mum!’ Rory’s meaning was plain. In a little while –probably shortly after he’d started at school – he’d add ‘duh!’ to indicate how ridiculous her question was.
As she cleaned them both up and found Rory’s wellies and the ones she’d appropriated from Fiona, as well as a pair of gardening gloves (as suggested by Gus), she realised how pleased she was to see him again. Was this a good sign or not? she wondered.
‘I got a proper child seat put in the Landy, you’ll be glad to hear,’ said Gus. ‘This should do you until you’re about eleven, the man in the shop reckoned.’ He strapped Rory in.
‘Oh that’s kind!’ said Sian.
‘Well, I did it because it’s better than the racing harness really. More practical.’
This was a relief. Although Sian trusted Fiona as much as she trusted anyone, there was always the fear that she might let something slip by mistake. Sian didn’t want him to have put a child’s seat in his car because he knew he was Rory’s father, but Fiona clearly hadn’t let anything slip. Gus would scarcely be making such relaxed, casual conversation if he’d just heard from his mother that Rory was his son. Sian couldn’t even begin to imagine the uproar that would result from Gus getting that particular bit of news in that particular way, but knew she’d find out soon enough. If she hadn’t told him by tomorrow –D-Day – then Fiona surely would. She climbed into the passenger seat with a sigh.
‘So where are we going?’ she said after a moment’s silence.
‘To some woods I’ve known all my life. We need to get the right kind of timber. Mum’s garden is OK for little twigs but we need serious sticks and leaf litter. Lots and lots of leaf litter.’
Sian wanted to ask if it was OK to just go to random woods and take serious sticks and leaf litter but didn’t. Gus would scoff at asking permission for anything he wanted to do.
After a few miles they bumped down a track and stopped at the opening to a wood.
‘Here we are, my favourite spot in the entire world,’ said Gus, jumping down from his seat before going round to help Sian.
‘Really? And you’ve seen a lot of world. This bit is your favourite?’
‘Yes. “East, West, Home’s Best.” My brother and I used to have Scout camp up here and then drag our parents with us as much as we could. When we were old enough to come here on our own on our bikes, it was the only place we ever went, nearly.’
‘I can’t imagine letting Rory cycle all this way on his own,’ said Sian. ‘But I have come down from London. I’m sure things are different in the country.’ Were they all that different? She hoped so.
‘Well, our parents did know where we were. It was before every kid had a mobile phone, but they knew we were safe enough.’ He chuckled. ‘Although there was one time when I fell and split my leg open. My brother helped me out of the wood. We limped along until we came to a house, knocked on the door and they took us in. They were great. Rang the folks, gave us squash and biscuits, washed my leg.’ He looked at Sian, suddenly stern. ‘Honestly, most people are good and kind and do the right thing. The weirdos, the ones you read about in the paper, are the exception.’
‘I know that!’ said Sian lightly.
‘OK!’ said Gus when they’d got to the part of the wood he thought was best. ‘We’re looking for two long sticks with a fork in the top. I can cut off a bit if necessary. Ah! Found one! See, Rory? We need another, just like this. Yell if you need a hand carrying it. Remember, always drag if you can. No point in carrying more weight than you need to. We’ll get all the stuff we can and put it here then we’ll go and get the Landy.’
Sian was pleased and surprised at how Rory got into fetching sticks, working hard to bring bigger ones. She got into it too, finding unexpected satisfaction in the task.
‘OK, that might be enough. Nearly, anyway. Now, Sian, will you be frightened in the woods on your own? Rory and I’ll get the vehicle and we can start loading. Here.’ He reached into the back pocket of his trousers and handed her a couple of black bin liners. ‘Fill these with leaf litter. We need a good amount of it. I’ve got more sacks that I’ll bring up.’