It was a very different day from the previous Sunday. It wasn’t, in fact, a day for the park at all, with a chilly breeze blowing pink into Eoin’s cheeks, and the threat of rain present since morning.
“I’m cold,” he said, burrowing into the new jacket that Jackie had bought him. He was suddenly growing so fast, everything too short or too tight.
“We won’t stay long,” she said. “Charlie would be disappointed if we didn’t show up.” Her insides were fluttering, her face warm despite the chill.
And there they were, James sitting on a bench behind the swings, Charlie hanging off the nearby roundabout. There were only four or five other children dotted around the playground, and a couple of huddled mothers in the far corner.
“You’re squeezing my hand too tight,” Eoin said crossly, and Jackie released him and walked towards the bench while he went to join Charlie.
“Hardly cone weather,” James said as she approached. He wore an army green woolly hat with a fat black stripe, and a black hooded parka. He rubbed his hands together. “We must be mad.”
Jackie laughed. “I think we must.” She sat beside him and stuck her hands into her pockets. “The sacrifices we make for our children.”
“They grow up that fast,” he said, his eyes on Charlie and Eoin, who were swinging side by side now.
“Sure do.” And right then she felt the first spatter on her cheek. “Damn, there’s the rain.”
“Come on,” he said, getting up and signaling to the others. “Let’s find someplace that sells the opposite of ice cream, whatever that is.”
“Hot chocolate?” Pulling up Eoin’s hood and tying it under his chin.
“Exactly.”
The four of them hurried from the park as the rain began in earnest. It occurred to Jackie that to a casual observer they probably looked like the perfect family grouping: father, mother, son, daughter.
The thought was delightful.
—————
Audrey wondered if she should do anything to mark the end of the life drawing course. Never having taught an evening class before, she wasn’t sure of the protocol. Was she supposed to take them all out for a drink on the last night? She didn’t think she’d fancy that much. She wasn’t a big fan of pubs herself—and maybe they were all rushing home anyway, to babysitters or neglected spouses.
She could invite them here though. She could have a little thing in the house. Oh, not a party, nothing fancy like that. She couldn’t imagine organizing a whole party. But she could serve finger food, couldn’t you buy boxes of frozen nibbly party things that you just heated up in the oven? And she could get a few bottles of wine, and some juice in case there were some who didn’t drink.
The more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. Saturday night maybe, from six to seven. No, six was dinnertime for families, she’d make it from eight to nine.
Just a little get-together, she’d say, at my house. Nothing fancy, just an hour before you go out. That would make it clear she wasn’t asking them to come for the whole night. It would be like a cocktail party, somewhere to go before you went off and had your normal Saturday night out. The warm-up act, she could be.
Yes, she’d invite them on Tuesday for the following Saturday night. She took a page from her notebook and began to jot down what she’d need, feeling quite excited, now that she’d decided, at the thought of being a hostess.