Thursdays in the Park Read Online Free PDF Page B

you’re a woman. I like to think of it as your third life. There’s childhood, then adult conformity – work, family, responsibility – then just wheneveryone assumes it’s all over and you’re on the scrap heap of old age, freedom! You can finally be who you are, not what society wants you to be, not who
you
think you ought to be.’
    ‘Isn’t that a generation thing?’ Jeanie had asked. ‘Our lot are liberated now; since feminism we can do what we want.’
    Aunt Norma had nodded wisely. ‘Can you, now? Can you really?’ She had smiled, her blue eyes beady. ‘It seems to me there are still expectations . . . family and such.’ She’d shaken her head. ‘But then, what do I know?’

4
     
    Jeanie was late getting to the park on Thursday. It was cold and it looked like rain, but there were still a number of bored-looking mothers huddled in the playground with their children – and the man from last week. She’d hardly given him a thought, and was not altogether pleased to see him. She liked to potter on her own with Ellie and had never involved herself with the other playground adults. He was on his mobile, propped up at the head of the slide as Dylan threw himself head first, arms outstretched, down the metal run.
    He waved and smiled when he spotted Jeanie, quickly finishing his call and putting his mobile back in his jacket pocket. ‘Hey . . . how’s it going?’
    ‘Fine . . . you?’
    Ellie demanded the swing, and for a while they were separated as they monitored their grandchildren’s play. Jeanie deliberately avoided his gaze.
    Dylan teamed up with another boy of his age, and they raced off round and round the perimeter of the playground.
    The man wandered over to the swings. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about the other day.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I was . . . kind of intense . . . went on a bit.’
    Jeanie laughed. ‘Nothing to apologize for.’
    ‘No, but you must have thought me a bit odd.’
    She said nothing, not knowing how to reply. She had not thought him odd exactly, but there was an unsettling air about the man, as if he wanted something from her, and she wasn’t sure what it was.
    ‘It’s just this whole playground thing is new to me and I’m not sure of the etiquette.’ He laughed apologetically.
    ‘Oh, there is no playground etiquette,’ she assured him with a laugh. ‘Except always making sure that whatever happens it isn’t
your
child’s fault!’
    ‘Junior version of the blame game?’
    Jeanie nodded. ‘Do I sound cynical?’
    He shrugged, grinned. ‘ “Realistic” has a better ring – anyway, I’ll leave you in peace.’ She watched as he pushed through the metal gate of the playground and went to lean over the fence round the duck pond.
    ‘Down . . . down, Gin.’ As Ellie stood up in the swing, Jeanie felt the first drops of rain. She searched in the bottom of the pram for the plastic rain cover, but it wasn’t there, only a squashed packet of nappy wipes, one of Ellie’s battered cardboard books and a rotting banana skin.
    The playground was emptying fast. She heard the man shout to his grandson, ‘Dylan! Dylan, come on, boy. It’s about to tip down.’
    She noticed the boy paid no attention to his shouts as she packed Ellie, protesting vehemently, into the buggy and hurried for the gate. As she was starting up the hill the heavens opened. Not just rain, but a torrential downpour, and she knew it would be stupid to attempt the fifteen minutes home until it had eased off. She changed course towards the cafe, only a short walk from the playground, Ellie still screaming her lungs out and struggling against the buggy restraints and the rain.
    The cafe was empty. She chose a seat outside, but sheltered by the covered space in front of the building so Ellie could run about, and bought herself a cup of tea and a carton of apple juice for her granddaughter.
    While she sat, already wet, looking anxiously at the sky and wondering how long it would last, Dylan’s