Thursdays in the Park Read Free Page A

cutting directly across the trajectory of Ellie’s swing. Jeanie heard the shout, ‘Dylan!’ at the same time as she lunged for the swing basket, jerking her granddaughter to a halt as the boy sailed blithely past, quite unconscious of the inch of daylight that had spared him a nasty injury.
    ‘Dylan!’ Jeanie turned and saw the man’s face, white and shocked as he ran over to his son and, instead of beratinghim, just held him tight until the boy squirmed free and went back to his ball.
    He rose to his feet, and although he was a thickset man, his movement was surprisingly graceful and fluid. Jeanie watched him brush his hand backwards and forwards across his greying, corn-stubble hair in a gesture that reminded her of a child with a comfort blanket.
    ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Thanks a million.’
    Jeanie shrugged, smiled. ‘It happens all the time.’
    ‘Well, it can’t happen to Dylan, not even once.’ His tone sounded almost desperate.
    ‘Your son’s OK, a miss is as good as a mile,’ she said soothingly, thinking he must be a playground novice to take on so.
    The man looked blank for a second. ‘Oh . . . God no, this isn’t my son, it’s my grandson. Dylan’s my daughter’s boy. You’ve probably guessed I don’t come out with him much. In fact, this is only the fourth time she’s let me.’ He breathed deeply. ‘And it’d have been well and truly the last if that swing’d hit him.’
    ‘Down . . . down, Gin,’ Ellie was insisting. She had her eye on Dylan’s ball. Jeanie lifted her out and she ran off to stand staring shyly beside the older boy.
    ‘Let the little girl play too,’ his grandfather called out, to which Dylan paid absolutely no attention.
    ‘So how old’s your daughter?’
    Jeanie laughed. ‘Touché . . . Ellie’s my granddaughter . . . she’s two and a bit.’
    He laughed too, holding his hands up in protest. ‘It wasn’t flattery, honest. I just assumed.’ He looked away, embarrassed.
    There was an awkward silence and Jeanie glanced around for her granddaughter, who was now totally involved in chasing Dylan and his ball, shrieking with laughter whenever he allowed her to get close.
    ‘Odd thing, grandchildren,’ the man said, gazing after the boy. ‘I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.’ It was almost as if he were talking to himself. ‘But I find he means everything to me.’
    His words surprised Jeanie, not because she didn’t believe in their sincerity – or the sentiment, for that matter – but because it seemed such a personal remark to make to a complete stranger.
    ‘I know . . . I know what you mean,’ she found herself replying, because she too had been overwhelmed by her feelings for her granddaughter since the first moment she’d held Ellie in her arms, waiting as they prepared the incubator at the hospital for the little body. It had literally been love at first sight. ‘Perhaps it’s because we don’t feel old enough,’ she said, smiling.
    The man laughed. ‘That’s certainly true.’
    ‘It’s a bit like a drug,’ she went on. ‘If I don’t see her for a couple of days I get withdrawal symptoms.’ She laughed, shy suddenly, in a very British way, about the strength of her feelings. Because she hadn’t been one of those mothers who pester their offspring to make them a grandmother. Infact when Chanty had told her she was pregnant, Jeanie had been a bit daunted, selfishly fearing the interference in her busy life.
    Dylan came bounding up to his grandfather. ‘Grandpa, she won’t leave me alone . . . she keeps getting in the way every time I kick the ball.’
    The man shrugged. ‘She’s only little, Dylan. Be kind.’
    The boy looked up at him, a frustrated frown on his face, and Jeanie thought how exceptionally beautiful he was with his golden skin and bright, water-green eyes.
    ‘Go on,’ the man urged, ‘play with her for a bit. It won’t hurt you.’
    Dylan stomped off, clutching his ball possessively to his