Bella Osborne - A Walk in Wildflower Park

Anna reached out and patted Bert gently on the hand. He flinched at the touch but let his hand rest beneath hers just for a moment, before pulling it away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meaning it.

‘Our Maurice called for her for days, wandered the house making this pitiful meow, because he couldn’t understand where she was. He was her cat really. She was a big Bee Gees fan you see,’ he said, glancing at Anna, his eyes weighed down with sadness.

Anna nodded. ‘Maurice Gibb.’

‘Yes,’ said Bert, revealing a proper smile. The stories of Barbara, him and Maurice flowed until Anna checked her watch and an hour had gone by.

‘Bert, I need to make a move, but I’ll see you next week. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to bring? Different paper, biscuits?’ She almost offered something alcoholic but guessed that wouldn’t be allowed.

‘Assuming you can’t smuggle in a Guinness, I’d love a proper coffee. Americano with hot milk they call it. Sounds fancy but tastes bloody marvellous. They have instant here and it’s not the same. Here, let me pay you for it.’ He put his hand onto the table next to him and picked up a coaster and then put it down again quickly. ‘Now, where did I put my wallet?’

‘It’s okay, Bert, you can pay me when I bring it. Take care of yourself.’

‘Say hello to Maurice for me.’

‘I will,’ she said and she left. Bert had another feel about on the table for his wallet; he reached a bit further forward and his fingertips touched the familiar soft worn leather. He moved it to where he wanted it, folded the newspaper and put it in the bin next to him.

‘Bert,’ said Anna as she put her head back around his door. ‘Do you take sugar?’ She spotted the newspaper in the bin.

‘Uh. No, thanks,’ said Bert, clearly taken by surprise.

Anna paused for a moment, thinking. Pieces of a puzzle she had spotted before slotted into place. ‘You can’t see, can you?’

Bert sighed and continued to stare towards the window. ‘Nope, not much. I’m not totally blind but it’s not far off.’ His voice hardened. ‘That’s why they put me in here, said I wasn’t coping.’

‘And were you?’ asked Anna, returning to the footstool.

‘I like you; you ask the questions others want to avoid. And, no, towards the end I had a couple of falls. But one of those was because some stupid home help cleaner put the kitchen bin in the wrong place. That was not my fault … And I fed Maurice a tin of beef casserole.’

Anna laughed and Bert joined in. ‘No wonder he’s a fussy eater,’ said Anna, leaning over and picking the newspaper out of the bin. ‘I can stop a bit longer. Shall I read you the good bits out of the paper?’

Anna wondered if Bert’s pride would kick in but his mouth lifted at the edges. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

‘Headlines or sport first?’

‘Always the sport,’ said Bert, getting himself comfortable.

Anna went home smiling and feeling like she’d made a friend. Probably the oddest friendship on the planet after the lion who made friends with a baby gazelle, but a friendship all the same. She liked Bert and, since her beloved grandad had passed away a few years ago, there was a vacancy in her life for someone like him. Her mobile signalled the arrival of a message. She took a quick peek when she stopped at the traffic lights: Hiya, A, How’s your weekend going? C.

Anna texted a quick reply: All good thanks :-) A and she pressed send quickly as the lights changed. Just as she was about to berate herself for not asking a question back, the phone started to ring and Anna felt a rush of excitement and something else: was it trepidation? She hadn’t banked on C calling her. She pressed the button on her steering wheel so she could answer and drive at the same time. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice uncertain and cautious.

‘Hi, Anna. We thought you’d emigrated.’

‘Hi, Dad.’ Relief mixed with a little disappointment washed over her. ‘How are you?’

‘We’re fine apart from your mum spending all her time on Facebook. She says you haven’t done much recently.’ They were stalking her again.

‘I’ve been busy at work.’ Anna indicated and went around the traffic island.

‘Could you not just make some stuff up? Your mum worries.’ Anna shook her head. She loved her parents but sometimes they were a bit overwhelming.

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