‘Plastic hangs around for years and years, and if fish swallow it or get trapped in it—’
‘Are there fish in here?’ he interrupted, pointing excitedly at the water. It was thrilling to have captured his attention, to be making her point.
‘Yes, over a hundred and twenty species, in fact.’
‘Really?’ This question came from his mother.
‘Yes, really. We even had a dolphin a few years back, swimming between Putney Bridge and Hammersmith, only visiting, I’m sure, but a dolphin, nonetheless. Can you imagine the excitement?’
‘I can, actually!’ The girl stared at the water, as if picturing the pretty creature.
‘I’d like to go on a boat.’ The boy spoke with enthusiasm.
‘Well, there’s lots of them about.’ She liked the pluck of the little chap.
‘What are you doing?’ Using his cherry-red lolly as a pointer, he angled it towards her easel.
‘I am painting. Painting the river.’
‘Can I see it?’ Without waiting for a response, he walked closer and came to stand alongside her. Paying no heed to the rules about personal space, he stared at the picture in its infancy, taking in the broad stripes of pale colour that she was building up, waiting for it to take shape so she could add in the depth, detail and movement.
‘What do you think?’ Lilly asked.
‘I don’t think it’s very good. I like dinosaurs.’
‘Apollo!’ His mum shouted her mortification, her hand against her brow. ‘I am so sorry!’
‘No, no, he’s absolutely allowed to express his opinion. I love honest feedback, especially when it comes to art, and besides, he’s probably right. I mean, is there any painting in the world that wouldn’t be made better by the addition of a dinosaur; theMona Lisawith a triceratops peering over her shoulder?’
‘The Hay Wainwith the head of a diplodocus emerging from the lake?’
Lilly liked both the woman’s enthusiasm and her imagination.
‘Warhol’s tomato soup cans in the claws of a pterodactyl!’ Lilly added.
‘Oh!’ The young woman snapped her fingers. ‘The Last Supperwith a T. rex taking up the fourteenth spot!’ They both laughed loudly at the thought of it.
‘I’m Lilly by the way. Lilly-Bob.’
‘Lilly-Bob? That’s quite a name too.’
‘Yes, but far better than Elizabeth-Roberta, which it was before my dad shortened it. I’m just called Lilly nowadays. No one has time for a long-winded double-barrelled name. We’re all in too much of a hurry.’
‘I’m Clodagh.’
‘Hello, Clodagh.’ She held the young woman’s gaze for a second and felt the connection forming. It was lovely.
‘We’ve just moved in.’ Clodagh pointed behind her, to the top floor.
‘Ah, in that case we’re neighbours. I’m flat six, middle floor. Call in any time if you need anything.’
‘Really?’ Clodagh asked, as if checking whether this was an offer with substance behind it, suggesting help might not be on tap for the young mum. ‘That’s so lovely.’ Her joy was evident. ‘We haven’t been here that long, and I don’t know anyone.’
‘Well, you know me now, and yes, really, just knock on the door, any time.’
And so it had begun: they’d built a bridge.
‘I just think you have to be careful.’ Glenda pulled her back to the present. ‘You have a lot of money squirrelled away.’ And there it was: Glenda’s fascination with Lilly’s savings account. ‘Doesn’t sound like the girl’s got a pot to piss in, and you’re far too generous for your own good.’ Lilly never understood what this phrase actually meant,too generous for your own good ...‘It’s not like you’ve got a husband to keep an eye on your finances.’
