Page 48 of The Wishing Tree Beside the Shor
‘WhichRyanis going to do,’ I say quickly before he can volunteer me. I’ve never been good at talking in front of people.
Tonya is handing out the sycamore leaves to colour in, and Cynthia is sitting on a flowerbed wall talking to a woman with her arms around a little girl who looks ten-ish, older than most of the kids here, and one of the nurses from Seaview Heights has come down to collect a bunch of flowers from her.
‘Is that Edie?’
‘It is. She’s waiting for you,’ Ryan says. It makes me feel important again, and like I matter here. I wave to Edie, and both she and her granddaughter give me a bright smile and a wave back.
‘If you’re looking for stories about your tree, one of the boys in my class says he was made here.’ Cheryl points out a little boy on the coastal path, currently using sticks to have a lightsabre fight with a friend.
‘Made?’ I say in confusion. ‘They built him like a robo— Oh!Oh!Thatkind of made!’
I blush because I’m such an idiot, and they all laugh, but it feels like they’re laughing with me, notatme.
‘His parents might’ve told him the stork who delivered him lived in the tree for all we know,’ she says.
‘Well, they might not want people knowing about the alfresco naughtiness they get up to, but pass on my email address, will you? If they’re happy for their young son to tell people that, maybe they’ll be happy to share it with the website.’
‘Will do.’ Cheryl salutes me.
There are masses of flyers all around, everyone seems to be holding a stack, and it’s the first time I realise how many Ryan must’ve ordered. If there’s a chance of getting even half of these distributed, wemustbe able to find more connections to the tree.
Mr Barley has gone to chat to Edie, and a couple of other teachers have taken flyers and are trying to direct restless children back towards the car park. Which is probably just as well because Mr Barley is now pointing out his latest creation to Edie – a Boris Johnson gnome wearing a bikini and having a swim in the bird bath. A goldfinch sits on the edge looking traumatised by the scantily clad interloper in his regular bathing spot. In the flowerbeds, at the edges of Mr Barley’s slug maze are a selection of rapidly deteriorating slugs in various stages of explosion that I can only hope the children didn’t see.
As Cheryl and the endless stream of kids wave goodbye and go off clutching their flyers and a stack of laminated leaves to tie onto bushes and branches, I go over to say hello to Edie and her granddaughter, earning myself a hug from both of them and Cynthia too.Everyoneis so friendly here. I’ve never known anything like it.
‘Dad says he’ll pop down later,’ I tell Cynthia, thoroughly enjoying the way her face lights up almost as much as Dad’s did at the mention of her.
Edie and her granddaughter follow me down the now much wider and less treacherous path towards the tree. Baaabra Streisand lifts her head from Alys’s lap and regards us with interest.
‘Oh my God, a sheep! Can I stroke her?’ the granddaughter asks.
I go to advise against it due to her bloodthirsty tendencies, but Baaabra seems to understand and hefts herself up and trots over inquisitively. The granddaughter drops to her knees and starts stroking her neck and tickling her chin.
‘See?’ Ryan calls over. ‘She’s only scared of you if you’re scared of her.’
I turn around and poke my tongue out at him, making him laugh.
Now the kids have cleared out, it’s quiet at the top end of the strawberry patch again, and he’s already picked up a shovel and gone back to digging out rogue bramble bushes, moving full steam ahead with the plan of reopening the strawberry patch.
‘It’s a grand idea,’ Alys says, making me wonder if I said that out loud.
She’s looking pointedly between me and him, clearly having seen every second of that little exchange.
I direct Edie around the trunk, telling her to be careful of the roots that spider out from the base and the loose chain that’s draped around it.
The granddaughter has now got Baaabra’s head on her shoulder while she tickles her under the chin and the sheep looks like she’s about to fall asleep standing up. ‘Grandma, can we have a pet sheep?’
Edie laughs. ‘No, but how about we bring your mum back and visit this one? She seems to like you.’
‘She likes everyone other than Fliss,’ Alys adds helpfully. ‘Maybe she’s pre-emptively jealous of losing her owner to another woman.’
I choke on thin air. This place is hazardous for throat health. ‘I assure you,that’snot going to happen.’
‘Animals can sense these things, you know,’ Alys continues. ‘It’s been her and Ryan for years now, and look at how much he likes you.’
I follow the direction she points in and look across to Ryan, who’s leaning on his shovel and watching us with a smile on his face.
He lifts a hand and grins when he sees me looking, and then quickly looks away.
