Jennifer Joyce - The Single Mums’ Picnic Club - A perfectly uplifting beach-read for 2018!

‘Everything okay?’

Startled, George almost jabbed herself in the eye with the tissue. She gave a quick dab to mop up the stray tears and presented the owner of the concerned voice with a beaming smile. ‘Yes, of course. Everything’s fine.’ She held up the tissue and rolled her eyes before she dropped it back into her handbag. ‘Hay fever’s playing up, that’s all.’

‘Hay fever?’ If George had been able to look at the bloke now walking alongside her, she would have seen a slight frown appearing very briefly as he took in the miserable winter morning.

‘Yep.’ George nodded as she stared down at the concrete floor, watching as her pumps trailed over the painted-on hopscotch grid. ‘Winter hay fever. Not all that common, but still as debilitating as its summer cousin.’

She cringed as the words tumbled from her mouth, willing her lips to seal themselves shut.

‘Unlucky.’

He was humouring her. Letting her get away with her phony excuse. But at least he wasn’t openly mocking her. Not yet, anyway.

‘Don’t I know you?’

George hoped not. It was one thing making an idiot out of yourself in front of a stranger, but she didn’t want to have to relive this experience again.

‘No, I don’t think so.’ She smiled politely at him and slowed her pace, hoping he’d accept her answer and move on. But he slowed his pace too, stooping so he could take a proper look at George as she returned her gaze to the concrete.

‘I do know you!’ He gave a soft, triumphant laugh. ‘It’s… um…’ He screwed up his face as he tried to conjure her name. ‘Jill? No.’ He shook his head and tapped his fingers on the handles of the buggy he was pushing. ‘Jane? Janine?’ He shook his head again and sighed. ‘Can you help a guy out here?’

George wasn’t sure she should. She wasn’t in the habit of giving out her details to random blokes. Or any blokes at all, come to think of it.

‘Got it!’ He stopped suddenly, his eyes lit up as he pointed at her. ‘It’s George, right?’

George turned and looked at him properly, taking in his height, his stocky build, his slightly too long brown hair and the beginnings of a beard lightly sprinkled with grey. There was something vaguely familiar about the eyes and the way they sparkled as he smiled down at her.

‘Sorry.’ He shook his head, the smile dimming. ‘You must think I’m some sort of mad stalker.’ He held up a hand. ‘I’m not, I promise. We – Leo, Ellie and I – used to go to the parent and toddler group at the community centre.’ He pointed first to the girl standing beside the buggy and then ahead at his son, who was charging towards a stray football with a roar. ‘It was about… three years ago?’

George bobbed her head up and down slowly. She and Thomas had attended the weekly Little Bees and Butterflies group up until a couple of weeks ago.

‘It was a fun group, and it certainly helped Leo burn off some energy.’ Ahead, Leo drew back his leg before pelting the football into the railings with another roar. ‘I wanted to take the little one…’ He turned the buggy slightly, where another small girl sat, padded out with a thick coat, woolly hat and matching mittens. ‘But I’ve had to take on as much work as I can lately so I haven’t managed to get there.’ He pushed the buggy forward and started to stroll towards his son. ‘I remember you brought in some cakes one time.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Sticky toffee, I think it was.’

George nodded. ‘It was Thomas’ birthday so I baked some little buns for the group.’

‘They were delicious.’ He laughed. ‘Must have been if I remembered all these years later.’

George felt a warm glow inside despite the chill in the air. She’d always loved to bake, though she rarely had the opportunity to receive feedback from anyone other than Thomas, who was always very enthusiastic about cake, whether it was homemade or shop-bought.

‘I haven’t seen you at the school before. Has Thomas just transferred?’

The warm glow cooled. Although Thomas was five now and had been eligible to attend school full-time for over a year, she’d kept him at home with her for as long as she possibly could. Thomas was probably going to be her only child, and she wanted to cherish every single moment with him that she could, but she did sometimes worry that she’d made the wrong decision in delaying his formal education. She looked around the playground now, at the small clusters of children, the friendship groups formed back in reception – back in nursery, even – and Thomas was the outsider. Had she been selfish in keeping him to herself for so long?

‘No. It’s his first day at school.’ George raised her chin slightly, ready to do battle about her choices if she had to. ‘He’s starting in Miss Baxter’s class today.’

‘Leo’s in Miss Baxter’s class too.’ He pointed across the playground to his son. ‘I’ll tell him to look out for Thomas, make sure he’s settling in.’

The shriek of a whistle pierced the air, ending the conversation before George could thank him, and George leapt into action, tearing across the playground to make sure she squeezed her son tight before he left her for the day.

Where was that tissue?

Thomas was already in the line before she reached him, turning to chat to the boy behind him. He didn’t seem to mind the separation, which was a good thing, obviously. Even if it did break George’s heart just a little bit more.

‘Thomas, sweetie.’ She crouched down and pulled her gorgeous boy into her arms, inhaling his smell of shampoo, Paw Patrol bubble bath and fabric softener. ‘You be a good boy, okay? And have fun. I’ll pick you up later and you can tell me all about your day. We’ll have cake, yes? And hot chocolate with marshmallows. We can go to the park. Or the beach hut. Whichever you’d like.’

There was a hand on her shoulder. It was the man with the buggy, whose name she hadn’t thought to ask. ‘He’ll be fine. Honestly.’

She managed a wobbly sort of smile before she crouched again to press a kiss to Thomas’ curls, blinking back tears as she stepped away. She waved manically as the class filed inside, stretching up on her tiptoes, watching those familiar curls disappear as her precious boy was swallowed by the school.

‘It does get easier, I promise.’ Her new companion raised a hand in farewell before he turned the buggy and headed back through the gates. George hung around for a few minutes in case she could snatch one final glimpse of Thomas, but it was no use. With a heavy heart and watery eyes, she shuffled out of the playground and made her way to work.

Chapter Three

Frankie

It still amazed Frankie that her children, who had shared a womb for nine months and were born just eleven minutes apart, could be so different. Finn was currently clinging onto her thigh, tears and snot merging on his top lip as he threw back his head and wailed, mouth surely wider than was physically possible, while his twin sister waltzed into the nursery, clumsy fingers trying their hardest to unzip her winter coat. Her hat and mittens had been discarded on the floor in her eagerness to play with the other children in the toddler room.

‘Good morning, Finn!’ The early years assistant flashed Frankie a sympathetic smile before she leaned down to pick up Skye’s abandoned garments. She secured them onto Skye’s labelled hook and turned to Finn with a toothy smile, her held a hand out to the still-wailing little boy. ‘Shall we go and play? Poppy’s already here. She’s been asking about you!’

Frankie expected Finn to unpeel himself and take Keeley’s hand. She was his favourite member of staff at the nursery, with Poppy being his play/craft partner of choice, but still Finn clung on, the wail reaching a higher pitch as he squeezed his eyes tight. It wasn’t uncommon for her son to kick up a bit of a fuss when it came to being left at nursery in the mornings, but it wasn’t usually this prolonged.