Songs For Your Mother Gordon MacMillan (good books for 7th graders .txt) 📖

As we’re talking, I see Rachel beyond the play area, walking by the pond. Her long, dark hair is tied back and she’s wearing jeans and a camouflage jacket. She has her sunglasses pushed up on her head. I’m struck by how beautiful she looks in the sun. I’m about to call out to her when she turns her head and we look directly at each other. I’m surprised to see her and I wonder where she’s heading. I haven’t seen or heard a word from Rachel since the morning Luke first arrived.

That was three months ago now, and it feels like another lifetime. I think for a moment Rachel is going to walk over and say hello. Instead, she gives a small wave. I wave back, and I have the strongest feeling that I’m on one of those boats, on the edge of the boating lake, and Rachel is standing motionless on the bank. I’m waving to her and to my old life, as they slide out of view.

Rachel turns and walks on and before very long she is gone.

‘Who was that?’ TSP asks.

‘Rachel. The artist,’ I say.

‘Oh, that was her. Pretty. From single man to single dad, and today you almost taught Luke to ride. Look at you now,’ TSP says.

‘Only in straight lines, so what are we calling that? Fifty per cent success?’ I say.

‘His dismount does need work,’ TSP says. ‘Stopping’s an issue too.’

‘Okay, let’s call it thirty-five to forty per cent. That equates to my current level of success,’ I say.

‘Oh, you’re talking about your mummy date, aren’t you?’ TSP says. ‘Your school-gate affair.’

I flick a sideways look at TSP, who has taken no small amount of pleasure in my abortive date with Jane. Okay, in hindsight it wasn’t the greatest of ideas. It is probably for the best that it only went as far as it did and no further. If only it hadn’t taken a mini-meltdown by Luke to make me see how clearly unready we were.

‘I wasn’t, but thanks for bringing it up.’

‘You know I was thinking of your best interests,’ TSP says.

‘I know you were. I thought it would be nice and it was. Friends is probably a better bet. Not sure how I would cope with two,’ I say.

‘I wasn’t going to say it,’ TSP says.

‘Of course, you weren’t,’ I laugh.

TSP puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. ‘On the plus side, you won’t be the talk of the school gate again. Those women are terrible gossips,’ TSP says.

‘I’m glad it’s only “those women”,’ I say.

‘Fatherhood has definitely improved your sense of humour, you’ll be cracking dad jokes galore any second,’ TSP says.

‘Any second,’ I say.

We chat for a few minutes more as we watch the children. They’ve moved onto the slide and are flying down and running around as fast as they can to get up the little ladder to go again. Up and down they go and round and round before TSP calls them over.

‘We have to go now, don’t we Georgie?’ TSP says.

‘We have to go and see Dan and Daddy. He doesn’t live with us because Mummy doesn’t like him very much and sometimes…’ Georgia says before TSP cuts her off.

‘Darling, do you remember what we said about not telling people everything Mummy says?’

‘But Mummy, it’s only Johnny!’ Georgia protests.

‘It’s a rule, darling, and we have to stick to it,’ TSP says.

I’m trying not to grin too much. I can’t help it. Kids are sometimes the best thing that can happen to adults, they really are.

‘Pure Jones,’ I say, and TSP rolls her eyes as I beam at her.

‘Oh, stop grinning like that, Johnny, it’s unseemly,’ TSP says, and she gets up from the bench.

‘Thanks for coming today,’ I say.

‘It was an occasion, the first bike ride. It’s one that they’ll talk about for years to come. I’ll see you on Monday for school,’ TSP says.

Georgia rushes over to Luke and throws her arms around him and gives him a hug. Then runs off after her mother. Luke stands there looking confused for a moment or two before he remembers he left his bike leaning against the bench. He runs to it and throws his leg over. My heart leaps, and I fear that he is going to cycle off after Georgia. He doesn’t do that; he sits on the saddle and makes a motorbike sound in short bursts going ‘grrr grrr grrr’ as he twists his hands on the handlebars as if he were revving the engine. He tells me that he is going very fast.

‘Okay, come on, Luke, it’s time to take that bike back on the road. The supermarket awaits,’ I say.

‘Can we watch movies afterwards? I know what I want to watch,’ he tells me.

‘It’s movie Saturday,’ I say. ‘Of course we can.’

We amble across the park towards Finsbury Park railway station. As we walk, I think this is pretty much close to perfect. I would never have imagined how gratifying it could be to be in the park with a friend and two children, one of which is mine. I got such pleasure from watching Luke and seeing him take these steps and knowing that I played a small part in it.

I start to imagine what it would be like to have someone else around. I don’t know who that might be. Jane might not have been the answer. I hope there’s another one and I wish more than anything that the answer was Lauren. I realise I’m daydreaming again as I ponder what it would be like if the three of us were together and then, who knows, maybe it would be four of us.

I’m smiling at this, and I’m slightly embarrassed about how sentimental I’m being, as I let my mind race away. I’m finding the destination of my thoughts illuminating. They are taking me to this perfect 2.4 kids-mummy-and-daddy-style life. Earlier, seeing Rachel, I glimpsed my old life,