‘No, that would be silly, we need ginormous holes for ginormous seeds’ – Billy flung his hand out to demonstrateginormous– ‘and little holes for little seeds. Everybody knows that.’ He nodded and folded his arms, safe in his knowledge. Rosy smiled at him. He may look like he was one constant roly-poly but she knew Billy was smart and took in far more than other people gave him credit for. He just did it his own way.
‘You are exactly right! I think you are going to be great at this. We also need them to help us keep the weeds away, and that’s a big job. Now this thing here’ – he held up the wooden stick thing – ‘is a dibber. Sometimes we don’t want to dig a hole, sometimes you might just want to push this into the earth and drop the seed into the hole it makes. You can choose which you prefer – this is great for leeks, for example, but no good for potatoes. Which brings us on…’
Matt carried on speaking for a little while longer, showing them the seeds in their little packets, and still managed to hold his audience’s attention. Remarkable considering the average attention span was usually four minutes. Rosy had to admire how he was handling the children. Standing right next to him she could see their little faces turned to him as flowers to the sun.
As well as their gifts he had brought a selection of vegetables to sniff, taste and prod, so they knew exactly what they were going to be growing. It was a nice touch and she wouldn’t have expected it from someone who had no experience with little children. He was doing pretty well at this, and she could see that the camera was going to love it, him being all gorgeous-looking and kind to children. Women up and down the nation would be fainting as he filled the screen. And then she supposed he would be fully propelled into the world of celebrity that Angelina inhabited. He would leave the cottage and she could relax again. The thought was actually far from relaxing but she didn’t have time to dwell upon it, as he was giving the children their trowels before they headed out to see where they would be doing all this digging and seed planting.
He led them out and gave them all space to play and explore the earth before planting, suggesting that they save the seeds until the next session, and just get used to the tools and the textures this time. The children were more than happy with that and, now immune to the cameras (there was no more manic waving), climbed into the raised beds and gave the earth a good workout. With the exception of Bradley, who just sat down in the middle of the bed and stroked his name on the trowel. Rosy had been keeping a close eye on Bradley, and was surprised that he was happy to get into the raised bed, let alone sit down in it, but he seemed to be coping very well with the change in routine. She was happy for him – this was a great step forward – but at the same time it would have been useful for Katie to see him struggling. As cold as that seemed it meant he stood a better chance of increased provision.
With the parent volunteers hovering over them, Rosy stood back and carried on observing the big picture. Matt wasn’t shy, getting into the beds with them and dibbing and digging alongside, demonstrating how to do it without being didactic.
She watched him, his face lit up with enthusiasm, Chloe leaning into him as if she had known him all his life, as he held up a worm and explained to them why gardeners thought worms were magical. If it wasn’t so stupidly complicated, Rosy felt she could be falling a little in love with him. By the look of some of the mums she wouldn’t have been the only one. Sophie’s mum’s eyes had practically glazed over with lust, and Sarah, a mum of four, looked like she might quite like to tumble him in the raised beds there and then. Rosy really hoped she didn’t. The irony of having to worry about the parents’ potential behaviour and not the children’s wasn’t wasted on her – this hadn’t been a problem at the China Clay Museum.
It didn’t seem any time at all before their session was over and the children were packed up in the minibus and heading back for snack-time. Rosy would be turning around and heading straight back with the next cohort; no rice cakes and hummus for her. Not even a cup of coffee. She could foresee herself getting a little scritchety as the day carried on.
She realized on the drive back that Matt had barely addressed her directly. He had been very professional and actively engaged with the children and the parents, but with her there had been a polite distance. He had called her up as he had demonstrated the tools he had given the children (damn, she couldn’t stop her face breaking into a wide smile, but it was such a nice thing to do, and so entirely unexpected) but other than that he hadn’t addressed a word solely to her.
Once her second group was on the bus (she had almost had a fight break out as Sophie’s mum was quite determined to do a second run as well, but she was no match for Marion), Rosy decided to see if she was imagining things or whether he really was keeping his distance. She was fairly sure that they were going to be ‘an unbeatable team’ – his words, she remembered them precisely – and now he seemed to be being so careful around her, almost as if he were scared to get too close. She knew she couldn’t blame him, he was respecting her wishes, but irritatingly she kind of missed the relationship they’d had before. Then again, she might just be imagining things, or reading too much into his actions. She just didn’t know.
Chapter Thirty-One
This time, as the second group arrived, Bob and Sid were set up and ready, and the cameras were rolling as the children got off the bus, waving at them and at Matt.
Waving is one of the first things babies are taught to do, and as they grow into toddlers and then infants it remains something that is easy for them to replicate and that will garner overexaggerated amounts of praise. Hence the maniacal delight the reception class took in waving at everyone who came across their path. As they grew this would become replaced by other ways to gather praise, sounding out letters perhaps, and then as they got older affecting an air of cool, however it was defined for their generation.
Things didn’t change that much as one got older, she reflected, just the manner in which you manifested it. Which is why she had deliberately wiped off the lipstick she had found herself applying on the way here, and then reapplied it. It had been put on as a matter of course, then wiped off in case Matt thought she was making an effort for him and she didn’t want to confuse things further, then reapplied because she was going to be on television and God be damned if she was going to appear frumpy. She almost wished she were four again; waving seemed the much easier option.
Her irritation was interrupted by a squeal and then a bawl as Susie slipped in the mud. Susie, who was the youngest child in the school but had had to join this slightly older group because of a dentist’s appointment earlier, was already cross that she wasn’t with all of her best friends, so falling over in the mud was a case of insult to injury.
Rosy rushed to her side and quickly scooped her up. Assessing her with speed, she saw there were no cuts or anything that needed immediate first aid, just injured pride and embarrassment. Rosy gave her a cuddle, stroking her hair and making soothing noises. She knew that this would only be needed for a second or two until Susie calmed down, whereupon she would jump down and carry on, demonstrating that she was a grown-up four-year-old, not a baby one. If Rosy were to ignore her, the bawling would intensify until no one could be heard over it and punitive measures would have to be taken. Expediency was the key in today’s circumstances.
The whole thing took less than a minute and as Susie slid down from her she felt Matt’s eyes upon her, and her own shoulders tighten. Did he think she was being too soft?Come on, her rational self kicked in,why would he do that? This is your anxiety raising its head and is far more about you than him.She would have to get her emotional responses to his presence under better control. Frustration that he made her feel a myriad of ways washerresponsibility. She could wallow in that later with a big bowl of ice cream; for now her self-indulgence needed to stop.
Matt delivered his welcome and then trooped the children into the greenhouse where again he explained the tools and the vegetables exactly as he had done earlier. Rosy knew she could watch this all day and each time the wonderment of the different children would keep it special and fresh. She wasn’t called to the front this time; he chose Susie instead, who puffed up a good visible few inches as she stood there, in front of all the bigger children, being the helper.
It didn’t take long before this group too had had their play in the mud and returned to the minibus, Matt waving them all off as Rosy helped them into their seatbelts. Time for round three.
The rest of the morning sped by. Matt had – and she wasn’t sure how he knew to do this without having spent hours understanding the developmental-appropriate nature of teaching – changed the format slightly to reflect their age and abilities. He approached the thing in a more scientific way, still engaging them and making it all a two-way process. She had to admire it.
As they returned to the school, Rosy took her lunch in her office rather than the staffroom. She had the meeting with Katie and a whole pile of paperwork to sort through. Plus, she knew the staffroom was going to be full of parent helpers and teaching assistants cooing over how lovely Matt was. Bleurgh!
Katie knocked and came in, a statuesque blonde with a mind so sharp that Rosy was in awe of her. She was certainly the smartest person Rosy had ever met, and although she could be blunt and incisive, she was rarely wrong.
‘So, Bradley clearly needs a lot of support. He did cope very well today, especially at Penmenna Hall, but I think that is because of the excellent care you’re already providing in the shape of Becky and his care plan and I don’t see why you or he should be penalized for the fact that strong provision is in place. Apart from anything else he’ll need a wealth of things in place to ease his transition to Class Two when the time comes. In your email you outlined the potential changes the Local Authority are suggesting, and you’re right, a change of schools at this stage to a big, new busier school could well mean he can no longer access mainstream education. I’m happy to write a report robustly stating that, and will include some of your other special educational needs children’s details too because it’s also going to negatively impact them. Although you and I both know I can’t promise it will do any good. Once Edward Grant has the bit between his teeth…’ She paused briefly, both women knew the implication, before continuing. ‘Anyway, for the here and now I will be recommending that he has a minimum…’ She carried on in this vein for some time, outlining the targets they would hope to meet for him, and the best ways to do so. Rosy breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she was lucky to have such strong educational psychologist support; she had worked in schools before where there was no one in post, or the person appointed was completely inept. Having an expert in their corner made such a huge difference to the life chances of these children.
‘Now that Bradley is sorted, let’s turn to you, Rosy.’
‘What?’
‘I’m going to cross every professional boundary here because a) my interest is piqued and b) we’re supposed to be friends and I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned the exciting news in your life.’
‘I don’t have any exciting news.’
‘Rosy, I’m an educational psychologist, not a mind-reader, but you’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice there is a very definite something happening between you and the dishy gardener.’
‘Oh, Katie, don’t make me doubt your skills now.’
‘Oh, Rosy, don’t think you can brush me off like a fool. Spill!’
