by Kitty Wilson
The sheer logistics of driving the school minibus with ten small children (fifteen of the older ones) and a healthy smattering of parent helpers to and from the grounds, and then to and from again, and again, throughout the day were tricksy enough. As professional as she was, the thought of pasting on her camera-friendly smile for the entire day, after having to sing ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ several times on the journey, was of concern. She was really excited about this project but had a feeling she’d be ready for the quiet of her office and the warmth of never-ending coffee way before the day was even halfway over. She had visions of herself being dragged off by three o’clock, head to toe in mud and screeching for buckets of gin. She was a realist, after all.
Throw the presence of Matt into the mix and her ongoing mental conflict that his presence had reignited in her life, along with small children, mud, potentially sharp tools, hovering but well-intentioned parents and a camera catching every mud pie flung, every seed eaten and every micro-expression made was not a relaxing thought.
She pulled up at the school and raced to her office. She had one or two final early morning phone calls to make to confirm what she thought was the motivating factor behind Edward Grant’s list choices. Then she wanted to just revel in the calm before the day got manic and whilst she still had the chance. Her peace was not to last as Harmony knocked on the door and let herself in before starting to witter on about animal rights. Rosy wasn’t entirely sure where this was going but she knew it was very definitely interrupting the only calm she had anticipated for the day. She also knew it was a head’s duty to listen to her staff and their concerns, but she had been finding duty rather irksome of late.
Trying to stop zoning out, she refocused on Harmony only to hear her talking about worms and slugs. God give her strength! This was going to require physical force, and so that was what she employed. Muttering reassurances about animal rights being heavily protected and indeed promoted onsite, she forcibly pushed Harmony out of the room and shut the door behind her. She would try extra hard to be nice to her on Monday.
It wasn’t long before she was standing in the playground with Marion counting the first batch of children into the minibus. She had Billy with her, and Chloe. It was tactical; they would be wound up so tight if they were made to wait as the day progressed. By having them in the first cohort, less damage would potentially be done. Seatbelts were checked and double checked, songs were sung and rules reiterated. So far so good.
She also had Bradley with her in this group, accompanied by his specially assigned teaching assistant, Becky. The educational psychologist, Katie, had also come along this morning to monitor Bradley, to assess how the support they had in place for him so far was going and what the next step would be. She would continue assessing him in the classroom once he had returned to school and then would feed back to Rosy at lunchtime. Rosy had already emailed her and given her a heads-up about the Save Our School campaign and was really hoping Katie would come on board. Well-respected throughout the county, her voice could be impactful.
They pulled up in the grounds as close as they could get to the orangery where they had arranged to meet Matt but Rosy could see no sign of him. The camera crew were already set up and waved a hello as the children headed into the kitchen garden area in a crocodile of pairs, all dressed in wellies and waterproofs. The first ten children were only four or five years old and looked so cute; they were going to be TV gold.
‘Hi!’ Rosy beamed at Bob and Sid.
‘Hi, are you all ready?’
‘Yep, think so. Are we ready, class?’ she turned and asked them. There was a high energy response that couldn’t help but make the crew grin. Billy was so ready he high-fived the entire group of children and the parents too. Rosy gently turned him back and popped him into the crocodile again.
‘OK, we’re not sure where Matt is but we could get a couple of shots while we wait if you don’t mind. Perhaps if you would be OK you could all head back to the bus and we could film you getting off, the kids could look really excited, yeah?’
‘Well, um… OK.’ Rosy wasn’t sure of TV etiquette, and had the feeling you were supposed to do what was asked so the cameras had the shots they needed, but really she hadn’t planned that this first cohort were going to spend their time getting on and off the bus. She’d do this and then see how things panned out. She turned the children around and they headed back onto the bus.
‘I want to do gro-o-o-o-wing!’ Chloe grumbled. She had a habit of escalating from a grumble to a grizzle to a full-on tantrum within seconds.
‘I want to do gro-o-owing too!’ Sophie echoed.
‘And we shall,’ Rosy stated firmly, popping herself in the middle of the two and holding onto their hands. ‘We’re just going to help the cameramen first and then we can get busy!’
‘Hmmmmm…’ growled Chloe. She was good at growling and had learnt it usually got results. But not from Rosy and not today.
‘Um… where are you going?’ Matt’s voice came from behind her.
‘We’re just doing an off-the-bus shot, Matt,’ Sid answered for them.
‘Pea-pod-pop man!’ Billy spun as he heard his voice.
‘Hey, Billy boy, and the rest of you. How’s it going?’
‘We want to do gro-o-o-wing!’ Chloe looked as if she hoped he had a higher authority, and would respond to a crescendo.
‘And so you shall! Let’s head this way.’
‘But they’ve just asked us for a bus…’ She felt her eyes narrow and her lips contract into a scowl as she addressed him, then quickly tried to stop herself. She knew it was embarrassment at not having the courage to talk to him about her outburst that was making her feel tetchy today. Two weeks had passed and she still hadn’t explained it. Seeing him reminded her that she was being a bit of a coward, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to tackle things yet. Plus, she had a school to save.
Matt looked at her, an indecipherable expression on his face. She looked down at her feet and then shot Katie a quick glance to see if she had caught this silent interaction. Having a psychologist around was unnerving.
‘Hello, Rosy, Marion. Yes, but they’d have you doing filler shots all day and you don’t want to do that, the kids don’t want to do that and I really don’t want to wait around so they can film a minibus. They can get the next one as it arrives.’ Matt turned and addressed the children. ‘We’ve got growing to do!’
The children cheered and, as if the Pied Piper had arrived, turned and followed him into the huge glass house just ahead of them. Rosy went with them, and sent apologetic looks to the cameramen, but they seemed remarkably unfazed by having their plans scuppered and just followed them in.
Inside the orangery was amazing; it was very warm and equipped with vast wooden tables. There was so much to look at in here, and even with nothing growing just yet, she could smell that warm earth of summer smell that took her straight back to childhood.
Rosy wanted to explore. She saw that there were old drawers that looked as if they dated back hundreds of years over in the corner and wouldn’t be out of place in a medieval apothecary’s shop, and so many different containers all labelled and looking as if they hosted a treasure trove of gardening goodies. But despite this desire, and it was quite a big one, once her eyes lit upon the table that Matt was now standing in front of, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from it.
For there, all lined up neatly, were a collection of little tools, lots of little collections made up of mini trowels and stick-looking things that Rosy knew would have a name but she wasn’t sure what it was, as well as a selection of mini brown envelopes and plant labels. The trowels had beautiful pale sage-green handles and startlingly bright silver blades, and along with the other things were tied in bundles with a matching ribbon. She wasn’t the only one; the ten children lined up in front of her were quivering with excitement, like puppies waiting for a ball. They looked like they were about to burst, but Matt seemed to have an innate understanding of this as
he picked up a bundle and looked towards them.
‘Now I know you’re all here to do some gardening. And I know you all want to grow your own vegetables and then Miss Winter is going to let you pick them and cook things at school with them. You are going to be just so grown-up with all this growing and the cooking that I thought I should help you out a bit.’
The children stood rapt, even Billy. The quivering had stopped when Matt started to speak, and now they were as still as stone. It was as if they knew what was coming and were not going to do anything to mess it up.
‘So I have got every one of you, and you too, Miss Winter, a very grown-up present to make sure you can do your growing as best as you can.’
He looked straight at Rosy as he said her name and she felt a glimmer of the desire she used to have for him, before her old fears and bad behaviour had kicked in and potentially destroyed everything.
He then pulled over a rickety old stool that didn’t look as if it would support the weight of a kitten, let alone a well-built man, and sat down.
‘Here we have a bundle for everyone, with everything you could need to get these plants started. Shall we look at Miss Winter’s first?’
The children all nodded fervent but silent asset. The cameras caught everything: their rapt little faces, Matt’s grinning and the gift sets on the table.
‘OK, so…’ He pulled the ribbon gently and it fell open leaving the contents nestling in his hand. It reminded Rosy of a set of underwear she had, done up solely with ribbons. She felt a little shudder and a flush, but then it was warm in here. And it wasn’t as if anyone could mind-read.
‘Would you like to come here, Miss Winter?’ He beamed at her. Sophie was nodding at her side furiously, as was Chloe, and Rosy had a sense that the four-year-old really wanted to push her forward, but was showing admirable restraint. She let go of both the girls’ hands and headed to stand by the stool.
Matt smiled as she took her place and carefully placed the things into her hand, removing only the trowel, which she could see had her name embossed upon it in squiggly silver writing. These really were things of beauty, and glancing across at the table she saw that he had had the names of every individual child in the school embossed as well. It was such a generous and thoughtful thing to do. She felt almost awkward, shy, as she stood there and wasn’t sure why such a thing would make her feel such a way. Perhaps now was not the time to analyse it; perhaps she should stop zoning out and pay attention to what was happening in front of her.
Matt raised his hand so both the children and the cameras could see what he was holding. ‘Firstly, we have the most important thing, the trowel. This is like a little spade, and the reason it is little is because so are seeds, and we need this to help us dig teeny holes to put them in. Would we want big holes for tiny seeds?’
‘No, that would be silly, we need ginormous holes for ginormous seeds’ – Billy flung his hand out to demonstrate ginormous – ‘and little holes for little seeds. Everybody knows that.’ He nodded and folded his arms, safe in his knowledge. Rosy smiled at him. He may look like he was one constant roly-poly but she knew Billy was smart and took in far more than other people gave him credit for. He just did it his own way.
‘You are exactly right! I think you are going to be great at this. We also need them to help us keep the weeds away, and that’s a big job. Now this thing here’ – he held up the wooden stick thing – ‘is a dibber. Sometimes we don’t want to dig a hole, sometimes you might just want to push this into the earth and drop the seed into the hole it makes. You can choose which you prefer – this is great for leeks, for example, but no good for potatoes. Which brings us on…’
Matt carried on speaking for a little while longer, showing them the seeds in their little packets, and still managed to hold his audience’s attention. Remarkable considering the average attention span was usually four minutes. Rosy had to admire how he was handling the children. Standing right next to him she could see their little faces turned to him as flowers to the sun.
As well as their gifts he had brought a selection of vegetables to sniff, taste and prod, so they knew exactly what they were going to be growing. It was a nice touch and she wouldn’t have expected it from someone who had no experience with little children. He was doing pretty well at this, and she could see that the camera was going to love it, him being all gorgeous-looking and kind to children. Women up and down the nation would be fainting as he filled the screen. And then she supposed he would be fully propelled into the world of celebrity that Angelina inhabited. He would leave the cottage and she could relax again. The thought was actually far from relaxing but she didn’t have time to dwell upon it, as he was giving the children their trowels before they headed out to see where they would be doing all this digging and seed planting.
He led them out and gave them all space to play and explore the earth before planting, suggesting that they save the seeds until the next session, and just get used to the tools and the textures this time. The children were more than happy with that and, now immune to the cameras (there was no more manic waving), climbed into the raised beds and gave the earth a good workout. With the exception of Bradley, who just sat down in the middle of the bed and stroked his name on the trowel. Rosy had been keeping a close eye on Bradley, and was surprised that he was happy to get into the raised bed, let alone sit down in it, but he seemed to be coping very well with the change in routine. She was happy for him – this was a great step forward – but at the same time it would have been useful for Katie to see him struggling. As cold as that seemed it meant he stood a better chance of increased provision.
With the parent volunteers hovering over them, Rosy stood back and carried on observing the big picture. Matt wasn’t shy, getting into the beds with them and dibbing and digging alongside, demonstrating how to do it without being didactic.
She watched him, his face lit up with enthusiasm, Chloe leaning into him as if she had known him all his life, as he held up a worm and explained to them why gardeners thought worms were magical. If it wasn’t so stupidly complicated, Rosy felt she could be falling a little in love with him. By the look of some of the mums she wouldn’t have been the only one. Sophie’s mum’s eyes had practically glazed over with lust, and Sarah, a mum of four, looked like she might quite like to tumble him in the raised beds there and then. Rosy really hoped she didn’t. The irony of having to worry about the parents’ potential behaviour and not the children’s wasn’t wasted on her – this hadn’t been a problem at the China Clay Museum.
It didn’t seem any time at all before their session was over and the children were packed up in the minibus and heading back for snack-time. Rosy would be turning around and heading straight back with the next cohort; no rice cakes and hummus for her. Not even a cup of coffee. She could foresee herself getting a little scritchety as the day carried on.
She realized on the drive back that Matt had barely addressed her directly. He had been very professional and actively engaged with the children and the parents, but with her there had been a polite distance. He had called her up as he had demonstrated the tools he had given the children (damn, she couldn’t stop her face breaking into a wide smile, but it was such a nice thing to do, and so entirely unexpected) but other than that he hadn’t addressed a word solely to her.
Once her second group was on the bus (she had almost had a fight break out as Sophie’s mum was quite determined to do a second run as well, but she was no match for Marion), Rosy decided to see if she was imagining things or whether he really was keeping his distance. She was fairly sure that they were going to be ‘an unbeatable team’ – his words, she remembered them precisely – and now he seemed to be being so careful around her, almost as if he were scared to get too close. She knew she couldn’t blame him, he was respecting her wishes, but irritatingly she kind of missed the relationship they’d had before. Then again, she might just be imagining things, or reading too much into his actions. She just didn’t know.
This time, as the second group arrived, Bob and Sid were set up and ready, and the cameras were rolling as the children got off the bus, waving at them and at Matt.
Waving is one of the first things babies are taught to do, and as they grow into toddlers and then infants it remains something that is easy for them to replicate and that will garner overexaggerated amounts of praise. Hence the maniacal delight the reception class took in waving at everyone who came across their path. As they grew this would become replaced by other ways to gather praise, sounding out letters perhaps, and then as they got older affecting an air of cool, however it was defined for their generation.
Things didn’t change that much as one got older, she reflected, just the manner in which you manifested it. Which is why she had deliberately wiped off the lipstick she had found herself applying on the way here, and then reapplied it. It had been put on as a matter of course, then wiped off in case Matt thought she was making an effort for him and she didn’t want to confuse things further, then reapplied because she was going to be on television and God be damned if she was going to appear frumpy. She almost wished she were four again; waving seemed the much easier option.
Her irritation was interrupted by a squeal and then a bawl as Susie slipped in the mud. Susie, who was the youngest child in the school but had had to join this slightly older group because of a dentist’s appointment earlier, was already cross that she wasn’t with all of her best friends, so falling over in the mud was a case of insult to injury.
Rosy rushed to her side and quickly scooped her up. Assessing her with speed, she saw there were no cuts or anything that needed immediate first aid, just injured pride and embarrassment. Rosy gave her a cuddle, stroking her hair and making soothing noises. She knew that this would only be needed for a second or two until Susie calmed down, whereupon she would jump down and carry on, demonstrating that she was a grown-up four-year-old, not a baby one. If Rosy were to ignore her, the bawling would intensify until no one could be heard over it and punitive measures would have to be taken. Expediency was the key in today’s circumstances.
