‘OK, we’re not sure where Matt is but we could get a couple of shots while we wait if you don’t mind. Perhaps if you would be OK you could all head back to the bus and we could film you getting off, the kids could look really excited, yeah?’
‘Well, um… OK.’ Rosy wasn’t sure of TV etiquette, and had the feeling you were supposed to do what was asked so the cameras had the shots they needed, but really she hadn’t planned that this first cohort were going to spend their time getting on and off the bus. She’d do this and then see how things panned out. She turned the children around and they headed back onto the bus.
‘I want to do gro-o-o-o-wing!’ Chloe grumbled. She had a habit of escalating from a grumble to a grizzle to a full-on tantrum within seconds.
‘I want to do gro-o-owing too!’ Sophie echoed.
‘And we shall,’ Rosy stated firmly, popping herself in the middle of the two and holding onto their hands. ‘We’re just going to help the cameramen first and then we can get busy!’
‘Hmmmmm…’ growled Chloe. She was good at growling and had learnt it usually got results. But not from Rosy and not today.
‘Um… where are you going?’ Matt’s voice came from behind her.
‘We’re just doing an off-the-bus shot, Matt,’ Sid answered for them.
‘Pea-pod-pop man!’ Billy spun as he heard his voice.
‘Hey, Billy boy, and the rest of you. How’s it going?’
‘We want to do gro-o-o-wing!’ Chloe looked as if she hoped he had a higher authority, and would respond to a crescendo.
‘And so you shall! Let’s head this way.’
‘But they’ve just asked us for a bus…’ She felt her eyes narrow and her lips contract into a scowl as she addressed him, then quickly tried to stop herself. She knew it was embarrassment at not having the courage to talk to him about her outburst that was making her feel tetchy today. Two weeks had passed and she still hadn’t explained it. Seeing him reminded her that she was being a bit of a coward, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to tackle things yet. Plus, she had a school to save.
Matt looked at her, an indecipherable expression on his face. She looked down at her feet and then shot Katie a quick glance to see if she had caught this silent interaction. Having a psychologist around was unnerving.
‘Hello, Rosy, Marion. Yes, but they’d have you doing filler shots all day and you don’t want to do that, the kids don’t want to do that and I really don’t want to wait around so they can film a minibus. They can get the next one as it arrives.’ Matt turned and addressed the children. ‘We’ve got growing to do!’
The children cheered and, as if the Pied Piper had arrived, turned and followed him into the huge glass house just ahead of them. Rosy went with them, and sent apologetic looks to the cameramen, but they seemed remarkably unfazed by having their plans scuppered and just followed them in.
Inside the orangery was amazing; it was very warm and equipped with vast wooden tables. There was so much to look at in here, and even with nothing growing just yet, she could smell that warm earth of summer smell that took her straight back to childhood.
Rosy wanted to explore. She saw that there were old drawers that looked as if they dated back hundreds of years over in the corner and wouldn’t be out of place in a medieval apothecary’s shop, and so many different containers all labelled and looking as if they hosted a treasure trove of gardening goodies. But despite this desire, and it was quite a big one, once her eyes lit upon the table that Matt was now standing in front of, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from it.
For there, all lined up neatly, were a collection of little tools, lots of little collections made up of mini trowels and stick-looking things that Rosy knew would have a name but she wasn’t sure what it was, as well as a selection of mini brown envelopes and plant labels. The trowels had beautiful pale sage-green handles and startlingly bright silver blades, and along with the other things were tied in bundles with a matching ribbon. She wasn’t the only one; the ten children lined up in front of her were quivering with excitement, like puppies waiting for a ball. They looked like they were about to burst, but Matt seemed to have an innate understanding of this as he picked up a bundle and looked towards them.
‘Now I know you’re all here to do some gardening. And I know you all want to grow your own vegetables and then Miss Winter is going to let you pick them and cook things at school with them. You are going to be just so grown-up with all this growing and the cooking that I thought I should help you out a bit.’
The children stood rapt, even Billy. The quivering had stopped when Matt started to speak, and now they were as still as stone. It was as if they knew what was coming and were not going to do anything to mess it up.
‘So I have got every one of you, and you too, Miss Winter, a very grown-up present to make sure you can do your growing as best as you can.’
He looked straight at Rosy as he said her name and she felt a glimmer of the desire she used to have for him, before her old fears and bad behaviour had kicked in and potentially destroyed everything.
He then pulled over a rickety old stool that didn’t look as if it would support the weight of a kitten, let alone a well-built man, and sat down.
‘Here we have a bundle for everyone, with everything you could need to get these plants started. Shall we look at Miss Winter’s first?’
The children all nodded fervent but silent asset. The cameras caught everything: their rapt little faces, Matt’s grinning and the gift sets on the table.
‘OK, so…’ He pulled the ribbon gently and it fell open leaving the contents nestling in his hand. It reminded Rosy of a set of underwear she had, done up solely with ribbons. She felt a little shudder and a flush, but then it was warm in here. And it wasn’t as if anyone could mind-read.
‘Would you like to come here, Miss Winter?’ He beamed at her. Sophie was nodding at her side furiously, as was Chloe, and Rosy had a sense that the four-year-old really wanted to push her forward, but was showing admirable restraint. She let go of both the girls’ hands and headed to stand by the stool.
Matt smiled as she took her place and carefully placed the things into her hand, removing only the trowel, which she could see had her name embossed upon it in squiggly silver writing. These really were things of beauty, and glancing across at the table she saw that he had had the names of every individual child in the school embossed as well. It was such a generous and thoughtful thing to do. She felt almost awkward, shy, as she stood there and wasn’t sure why such a thing would make her feel such a way. Perhaps now was not the time to analyse it; perhaps she should stop zoning out and pay attention to what was happening in front of her.
Matt raised his hand so both the children and the cameras could see what he was holding. ‘Firstly, we have the most important thing, the trowel. This is like a little spade, and the reason it is little is because so are seeds, and we need this to help us dig teeny holes to put them in. Would we want big holes for tiny seeds?’
