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Authors: Melissa Nathan
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looking at him from across the living room.
‘Are we going to the park?’ asked Oscar, his voice brittle. Mark’s heart clenched.
‘If I can get my work finished, sweetheart, yes,’ he told him. ‘But I’m going to have to work upstairs in my office. Daisy’s going to come and play.’ He looked at his boy. ‘Give your daddy a hug.’
Oscar turned his head and stared out of the window. When he looked back, his dad was already halfway out of the room.
Daisy always won Monopoly and Oscar always won Risk. So they played Frustration and after just twenty minutes it had thoroughly lived up to its name. Oscar won two out of the three games.
‘Yes! Hooray!’ he cried, jumping up and punching the air with his hand. ‘That means we get to play football in the garden
and
you’re in goal.’
‘OK,’ conceded Daisy. ‘But don’t kick it
at
me.’
Fifty-six goals later, he and Daisy sat in the treehouse, Oscar holding the ball in his hands, Daisy holding her thumb which had been throbbing since goal 23 deflected off it before going in.
‘What do you think of Miss Hobbs?’ she asked.
Oscar thought about it. ‘She’s all right,’ he said slowly.
‘Mm,’ agreed Daisy.
‘I mean, she’s nice, but . . .’ He thought about it. ‘A bit scary.’
‘Mm.’
‘She hasn’t got a mum.’
Daisy looked at him. ‘How do you know?’
‘She told me. She asked where mine was so I told her I didn’t have one, and she told me neither did she.’
Daisy gasped. ‘She
confided
in you. She must like you.’
Oscar shrugged.
‘
And
you’ve got something
in common
.’ Her tone was hushed.
When they heard Mark climbing the ladder, they screamed excitedly that no adults were allowed in.
‘What’s all this then?’ asked Mark, from halfway up.
‘I scored fifty-six goals!’ Oscar cried out.
‘Oh!’ laughed Mark. ‘I bet Daisy’s had a wonderful afternoon!’
They joined in the laughter. He reached the tree house and beamed at them. ‘Who wants to come inside, drink hot chocolate and watch a video?’ asked Mark. ‘Daisy, your mum’s here and she’s going to stay all evening. She’s brought
Johnny English
.’
Oscar and Daisy were down in minutes.
Oscar and Mark shared a giant pizza with extra tuna andpineapple which no one else wanted, Daisy had mushroom pizza and Lilith had salad. They sat on boy and girl sofas, Mark’s arm round Oscar, Lilith’s round Daisy. Within moments, both parents were asleep. Daisy went to the playroom to find a puzzle, but Oscar didn’t move.
Meanwhile, Nicky was trying to piece together what the hell she was doing with her life.
Here she was, an attractive, if rather fuzzy-headed woman entering what could be the most exciting decade of her life. And how had she spent her Saturday? An idyllic morning, followed by an entire afternoon of marking essays, all of which had been written in the style of J.K. Rowling, and some preparation work for next week plus more work she’d been given by Miss James. The latter had sounded like a quick nothing when Miss James had asked her to ‘run it off’, but she’d wanted to do it properly. It had taken her three hours and had for the first time made her wonder if she would be up to the job of Deputy. And how was her day ending? With the blind date from hell. She wondered what Rob was up to tonight.
She looked at Whatever-His-Name-Was across the restaurant table. She must stop trusting her sister’s enthusiasm for her husband’s colleagues. What made Claire think that just because Nicky was single she was desperate? Why didn’t people understand that the chances were single people were
more
discerning, not less, than couples? Take her sister, for example. Nicky was absolutely convinced that one of the main reasons her big sister had married so young was not because she flukily happened to meet the man of her dreams so early, but because she was not fussy. Never hadbeen. It was just her nature. You only had to look at her
‘Are we going to the park?’ asked Oscar, his voice brittle. Mark’s heart clenched.
‘If I can get my work finished, sweetheart, yes,’ he told him. ‘But I’m going to have to work upstairs in my office. Daisy’s going to come and play.’ He looked at his boy. ‘Give your daddy a hug.’
Oscar turned his head and stared out of the window. When he looked back, his dad was already halfway out of the room.
Daisy always won Monopoly and Oscar always won Risk. So they played Frustration and after just twenty minutes it had thoroughly lived up to its name. Oscar won two out of the three games.
‘Yes! Hooray!’ he cried, jumping up and punching the air with his hand. ‘That means we get to play football in the garden
and
you’re in goal.’
‘OK,’ conceded Daisy. ‘But don’t kick it
at
me.’
Fifty-six goals later, he and Daisy sat in the treehouse, Oscar holding the ball in his hands, Daisy holding her thumb which had been throbbing since goal 23 deflected off it before going in.
‘What do you think of Miss Hobbs?’ she asked.
Oscar thought about it. ‘She’s all right,’ he said slowly.
‘Mm,’ agreed Daisy.
‘I mean, she’s nice, but . . .’ He thought about it. ‘A bit scary.’
‘Mm.’
‘She hasn’t got a mum.’
Daisy looked at him. ‘How do you know?’
‘She told me. She asked where mine was so I told her I didn’t have one, and she told me neither did she.’
Daisy gasped. ‘She
confided
in you. She must like you.’
Oscar shrugged.
‘
And
you’ve got something
in common
.’ Her tone was hushed.
When they heard Mark climbing the ladder, they screamed excitedly that no adults were allowed in.
‘What’s all this then?’ asked Mark, from halfway up.
‘I scored fifty-six goals!’ Oscar cried out.
‘Oh!’ laughed Mark. ‘I bet Daisy’s had a wonderful afternoon!’
They joined in the laughter. He reached the tree house and beamed at them. ‘Who wants to come inside, drink hot chocolate and watch a video?’ asked Mark. ‘Daisy, your mum’s here and she’s going to stay all evening. She’s brought
Johnny English
.’
Oscar and Daisy were down in minutes.
Oscar and Mark shared a giant pizza with extra tuna andpineapple which no one else wanted, Daisy had mushroom pizza and Lilith had salad. They sat on boy and girl sofas, Mark’s arm round Oscar, Lilith’s round Daisy. Within moments, both parents were asleep. Daisy went to the playroom to find a puzzle, but Oscar didn’t move.
Meanwhile, Nicky was trying to piece together what the hell she was doing with her life.
Here she was, an attractive, if rather fuzzy-headed woman entering what could be the most exciting decade of her life. And how had she spent her Saturday? An idyllic morning, followed by an entire afternoon of marking essays, all of which had been written in the style of J.K. Rowling, and some preparation work for next week plus more work she’d been given by Miss James. The latter had sounded like a quick nothing when Miss James had asked her to ‘run it off’, but she’d wanted to do it properly. It had taken her three hours and had for the first time made her wonder if she would be up to the job of Deputy. And how was her day ending? With the blind date from hell. She wondered what Rob was up to tonight.
She looked at Whatever-His-Name-Was across the restaurant table. She must stop trusting her sister’s enthusiasm for her husband’s colleagues. What made Claire think that just because Nicky was single she was desperate? Why didn’t people understand that the chances were single people were
more
discerning, not less, than couples? Take her sister, for example. Nicky was absolutely convinced that one of the main reasons her big sister had married so young was not because she flukily happened to meet the man of her dreams so early, but because she was not fussy. Never hadbeen. It was just her nature. You only had to look at her
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