‘When did you get this?’ she asked.
‘I’ve had it for years.’
‘We never used it?’
‘Just once.’
‘Well, at least we’re using it now.’ Eliza swallowed her distress at the thought that this was possibly the last time. Then she remembered the other picnic. The one with James Langton. She glanced up at the sky where a few lazy birds were half-heartedly flying from one tree to another. The whole world seemed to have stilled, and Eliza took off her cardigan. ‘Warm, isn’t it,’ she said.
Her mother’s head was bowed.
‘Mum?’
Anna looked up. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what, Mum?’
She flapped her hand. ‘I don’t know. The picnics we didn’t have. Everything.’
‘I survived, didn’t I?’
Anna smiled, as if she’d suddenly thought of something and was bursting to share it with her daughter.
‘Climb a tree. Go on, climb a tree.’ She glanced about excitedly. ‘There, that one. Climb that one.’
Delighted by her mother’s sudden gaiety, Eliza got to her feet. ‘You mean it?’
Anna nodded.
‘Not sure if I still can,’ Eliza said, as she estimated the height of the drop should she fall.
‘I never knew where your grazed knees came from.’
‘Until he found me in the tree?’
Anna nodded.
‘Right. Here we go.’
Eliza managed to get a foothold easily and was up on her old favourite branch within moments. She tested to see if it was strong enough to bear her adult weight and deemed that it was. Then she edged along a short way and sat with her legs dangling.
Her mother’s laughter carried up to her.
‘I used to sing when I sat up here,’ Eliza said.
‘Sing what?’
‘Childhood songs.’ She began to singI do like to be beside the seasideand after a while her mother joined in: the two of them singing at the tops of their voices until it ended in gales of laughter and a side stitch for Anna.
Eliza slid back down. ‘You all right?’
Anna nodded.
‘What happened with him?’
‘James?’
It went suddenly quiet.
