A Walk in Wildflower Park. Bella Osborne
word “gormless”.’
‘Ouch, that’s harsh.’
‘I don’t mean it to be. But when you step back and examine the decisions you made that brought you to where you are now. It makes you question and compare.’ She paused. ‘Arlo, the stick won’t go through that gap. It’s going to snap in half and hit you in the face if you’re not careful!’ Sophie threw her hands up in despair. ‘It’s non-stop. This week I’ve got loads to do at work for this big meeting. It’s Kraken’s birthday so Dave slipped into conversation that it’d be nice if the kids made her a card and Arlo needs some cakes for school because they’re celebrating VD Day.’
‘Blimey that’s fully inclusive for you.’ Anna laughed but Sophie didn’t join in. ‘Do you mean VE Day?’
‘Hmm?’ Sophie was deep in thought. ‘I don’t know if I can do this any more, Anna.’ Sophie stopped walking and Anna patted her arm.
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do. I really do.’
They walked in silence for a while. Sophie took in great lungfuls of fresh air. Sometimes it made things seem a bit better. She liked to imagine the park was all hers. It was looking a luscious green in the intermittent May sunshine. There were some welcome splashes of colour thanks to the pretty pink flowers of the red campion and the last of the blossom on the hawthorn. The bluebells were carpeting the small wooded area and she had to shout at Arlo not to destroy them. Instead, he started a solo game of fetch with his stick.
A bouncy Labrador joined Arlo and took hold of the other end of the stick. ‘Hey! That’s mine,’ protested Arlo, but the dog was already winning the tug of war.
‘Why is everything a battle?’ asked Sophie, with a deep sigh, and she went to intervene.
Anna was pleased with the letter she’d crafted. All she needed now was an address for Maurice’s previous owner and her good deed would be done. His old address, from Maurice’s vaccination records, was her starting point. Hopefully the new occupants would have a forwarding address, or at least know the name of the nursing home he was in, if it was local.
She pulled up in front of the neat row of terraced houses and went in search of number 55. She spotted the for sale sign before the house number. Anna rang the bell just in case, but there was no answer. Now what? Number 57 looked like number 55’s glamorous friend with its double glazing and shiny front door, so she decided to knock there. No answer. She was about to admit defeat when the door of number 53 opened and Paddington Bear reversed out. At least it looked like Paddington Bear from the back – the duffel coat and hat were spot on but if the wearer had hairy toes they were secreted inside a pair of sensible brogues.
‘Excuse me,’ said Anna. ‘I’m trying to find where Mr Albert Freeman has moved to. Can you help me?’
Paddington checked the door was secure for the third time then slowly turned to face Anna. Under the fancy dress was an elderly lady who looked Anna up and down and blinked a lot. ‘Who’s asking?’
A little surprised by the gruff voice, Anna paused. ‘Sorry, I’m Anna. I’ve a letter for Mr Freeman.’ She held the envelope aloft as evidence and Paddington was distracted by it.
‘He’s moved away.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Anna and Paddington seemed intrigued. ‘I got a cat from the rescue and it’s …’
‘Maurice!’ exclaimed Paddington as she put her bony hands to her mouth in surprise.
‘Yes,’ said Anna, with a smile. ‘I thought Mr Freeman would like to know he’s got a new home.’
Paddington drew closer as if about to share a secret. ‘I can take you to him, if you’d like? Is that your car?’ Paddington pointed to Anna’s Mini.
‘It is.’
‘Good. Let’s go then. I’ve not got all day.’
Anna learned that Paddington was a Mrs Temple and she’d lived next door to Mr Freeman for forty-four years.
‘Pull up here,’ instructed Mrs Temple after a ten-minute drive. ‘That’ll do me lovely. Thank you.’
Anna leaned forward and surveyed the row of shops. ‘Um, this doesn’t look like the nursing home?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Temple with a chuckle, and her many chins jiggled happily. ‘This is my optician. You want the turning back there on the left – it’s just up there. Bye!’ And Mrs Temple slammed the car door.
Anna smiled – she had to admire her cheek. She turned the car around and followed Mrs Temple’s directions. A large painted sign informed her she had arrived at The Cedars although there were no trees in sight.
Stepping inside it was as she’d expected: homely with a strong smell of detergent. Nobody seemed to be manning the reception desk so Anna felt it was acceptable to have a little wander about. She figured it was okay as she just needed to hand the letter to someone and she’d go. She was drawn to the sound of a television and as she reached the door, an efficient-looking woman wearing some sort of uniform was coming out. ‘Hello there. Are you looking for someone?’
‘Yes, Mr Freeman,’ said Anna, ‘but I just need to hand in …’
‘You’re in luck,’ she said, reopening the door. ‘Bert, you’ve got your first visitor.’ Anna wanted to explain to the carer that she was delivering a letter, but she was gone.
An elderly man turned his head half-heartedly towards the door. Bert didn’t appear thrilled to have a visitor. If anything, he looked quite concerned. He was sitting in a large wingback chair and he leaned forward as Anna entered the room, narrowing his eyes sharply as he scrutinised her. It was a large square room with high ceilings and a long redundant fireplace. Too many armchairs had been squeezed in and all were attempting to point at the television. Each chair was occupied, mostly by a sleeping resident, but those who were awake watched Anna with great interest.
‘Hello, I’m Anna.’ She moved nearer to Bert and wished there was somewhere for her to sit down and be slightly less conspicuous. Bert didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘I popped in to give you this,’ she said, presenting him with the letter.
‘I don’t know anyone called Anna,’ said Bert, ignoring the letter in Anna’s outstretched hand. She placed it on the arm of his chair.
‘No, you don’t, but the letter explains everything.’
‘Seeing as you’re here, why don’t you explain everything?’ asked Bert, sinking back into the armchair, his face dour.
‘Okay.’ Anna took a breath. ‘I just wanted you to know that Maurice has got a new home and he’s very happy.’
Bert sat forward abruptly. ‘Are you from the cat prison?’
Anna was taken aback by Bert’s turn of phrase. ‘No, I’m not from the cat rescue. I’m the person who’s given Maurice a new home.’ Anna finished with her warmest smile. The old woman next to Bert had woken up and she was leaning forward too as she fiddled with her hearing aid.
‘You took my cat?’ Bert’s voice was rising.
‘Well, I chose him,’ said Anna, struggling to maintain her smile. This was uncomfortable and unexpected.
‘They had no right to let you take him. He’s my property!’ Bert’s pale face swiftly coloured up as his volume increased.
Within seconds everyone in the room was awake and a whistling broke out from another nearby hearing aid. Anna felt the elderly eyes all fixed on her. ‘But when you moved in here, you signed him over to the rescue.’ Anna liked to stick