Chapter Text
“Who the hell is that?”
“What?”
“That incredibly handsome man over there.”
“By the slide?”
“No, closer to the seesaws.”
“In the blue hoodie?”
“No, the green polo.”
“I don't see a man wearing a green polo.”
“My god, Mary, I know you're blind but he's literally right in front of us.”
Mary squinted and shielded the sun from her eyes.
“Mum!”
“One moment, darling, I–”
“Mum!”
“I said to give me a mo–”
“Mum, pay attention!”
Giving up her pursuit of the polo clad man, Mary gave an exasperated huff before turning her attention to the seven-year-old standing in front of her.
“Winnie,” Mary said sternly, “this better be good. The interrupting is really getting out of–”
“Mum, this is Phoebe.”
Mary moved her eyes from her daughter to the girl next to her. The girl looked timid, and for half a second Mary was afraid that Winnie had forced the poor girl into something she didn’t agree to.
“Phoebe and I are in class together. Right, Pheebs?”
Phoebe glanced towards Winnie before agreeing with her. She had a head full of dark curls and they bounced as she nodded her head. Mary could see the anxiety starting to slowly loosen on Phoebe’s face.
“It's very nice to meet you, Phoebe,” Mary said with a grin. “I'm Winnie's mum, Mary, and this is our friend, Ann.” Mary held her hands out towards Ann as if she were a game show host and Ann was the prize.
“Hello, Phoebe. Lovely to meet you.” She held a hand out to the little girl, and when Phoebe bravely reached out to shake it, Ann gave her a satisfied smile. “I’m Milo’s mum,” she continued, pointing towards the monkey bars. Ann's son was proudly swinging from his knees, his head of dark hair almost brushing against the dirt beneath him.
“It's nice to meet you, too,” Phoebe said.
“Mum, can you put Phoebe’s dad’s number in your phone? I want her to come over to see my Barbie collection.”
Mary gave an incredulous huff.
“A please would be nice.”
“Please can you put Phoebe’s dad’s number in your phone thank you,” Winnie said in one, long-winded go.
“Yes, I can,” Mary replied. She noticed the tone of her voice sounded scarily close to her mother’s. She shook the thought from her head before turning towards Phoebe. “Alright, Phoebe, whenever you're ready.”
The young girl rattled off the line of numbers to Mary and Mary diligently punched them in. She saved it, putting “Phoebe’s Dad” as the last name before looking back at Phoebe.
“What's your dad’s first name?”
“Oh, his name is To–”
Before the girl could finish, a loud shout echoed through the playground.
“Phoebe? Phoebe!”
All four of them looked up to where the noise was coming from. Mary squinted. A man in a green polo shirt was frantically calling out Phoebe’s name, drawing the attention of all the parents in the park.
“Phoebe!”
Mary stood up, raising her hand in the man’s direction.
“Oh my god, it’s the hot dad,” Ann murmured from the bench next to her.
“She’s over here!” Mary called out, ignoring her friend. The man’s head snapped in her direction. She was able to get a good look at him now that they had locked eyes. He really was handsome. He was now jogging towards them, and the closer he got, the quicker Mary’s pulse thrummed. The curls on his head were the same as Phoebe’s, and his jaw was sharp. Even with the panic still evident on his face, Mary was captivated by him.
“Bloody hell, Phoebe, you can’t just walk away like that,” he panted. The man turned towards Mary and Ann, taking a gulp of air that made his Adam’s apple bob. Mary dropped her eyes to the pavement before glancing over at the two girls. “Thank you so much,” she heard him say, and she looked up again. At this distance, Mary could see the honeyed brown of his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, once again looking towards Winnie and her friend. “I’m sorry—my daughter is in class with Phoebe, and brought her over to meet me.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Phoebe said meekly. “I was just really excited to see Winnie.”
The man fought a smile as he placed his hands on his hips.
“That’s fine, duck, but you scared me half to death. Just tell me next time.”
Mary tried valiantly to ignore the way his northern accent rolled over the word “duck”.
“Yorkshire?” The question came out of Mary’s mouth before she had a chance to think.
“Pardon?”
Mary shook her head. “Sorry, your accent. Are you from Yorkshire?”
The man grinned at her. His face became a collection of well-worn creases, the kind that only appear with repetition. He huffed a laugh.
“I am,” he said, putting his hands into his trouser pockets. “Is it that obvious?”
“I don’t know if ‘obvious’ is the word. I didn’t really catch it until you called Phoebe ‘duck’. Yorkshire accents have a very…distinct…glottal stop…”
You’re doing it again, the voice in her head said. Being a know-it-all. Acting like a smarmy teacher’s pet. Her eyes dropped once again to the pavement as she cleared her throat.
“A glottal stop?”
“It’s when your vocal chords close around a consonant. It was noticeable on the end of ‘duck’…that was what gave you away.”
The man laughed now, properly, and Mary couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him. There was warmth in his face, and it surprised Mary to find no mockery there. He seemed genuinely impressed and amused by her and it made her want to chew on her cuticle.
Don’t you dare.
”I’m Tom,” he said, sticking out his hand. Mary hesitated before grabbing it. “Tom Hayward.” He pumped their arms together.
”Oh, I’m Mary,” she replied. “Mary Ryder.” She was acutely aware of how warm and large his hand was against hers. Somewhere near her hip, she heard Ann clear her throat. “Ah, yes, and this is my friend Ann Baxter-Powell.”
Tom turned his attention to Ann, gracing her with one of his beautiful grins. He offered her his hand, which she took eagerly.
“Nice to meet you, Ann.”
”Yes, nice to meet you as well.”
Just as they teetered on the edge of awkward, Winnie said, “My mum has your number now so Phoebe can come over to see my Barbies.”
“Well isn't that lovely,” Tom said, turning his attention to Winnie. “Phoebe talks of you quite often. I'll have to make sure I get your mum’s number before we leave so you can come 'round ours.”
“Ohh, I can show you my squishy dumpling!” Phoebe said excitedly.
“It's settled then,” Tom said, clapping his hands. He looked at Mary and said, “That is, if your mum is on board.”
Mary had a brief flash of her marriage as Tom’s words registered. Will would have never considered her in a situation like that—her ex-husband’s impulsivity was one of the many nails in the proverbial coffin of their relationship. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had sought her input and she found herself struggling to answer. Ann nudged her, spurring Mary back to reality.
“Oh, yes, of course. That’s totally fine.”
Tom smiled at her and Mary returned it.
“Wonderful,” he said, taking out his phone. He pulled up his contacts and glanced up at Mary. “Ready when you are.”
Before Mary had a chance to start, Winnie recited her number to Tom with alacrity. He frantically punched it in, trying to keep up with the rapid fire pace Winnie was keeping. Once she was finished, he turned the screen towards Mary.
”Is this right?” he said, holding the phone out towards her.
Mary reached out instinctively, steadying Tom’s hand with her own to squint at the numbers on the screen. The minute her fingertips brushed against the backs of Tom’s knuckles, Mary pulled her hands back as if she were scalded.
“Yep,” she said quickly. “Looks good to me.” She took a half step back. “It was great meeting you. I, um, I’ll text you later this week about the potential Barbie symposium.”
Tom huffed out a laugh, his face once again crumpling into a mass of creases. Mary felt her heartbeat quicken.
“Will Phoebe need a ticket to said symposium, or is it a free event?”
It was Mary’s turn to laugh.
“It’s free. We’re nothing if not a philanthropic venture.”
Before Tom could respond, Ann stood up next to Mary.
“Lovely meeting you, Tom,” she said. “Unfortunately Milo and I have to get going.” She turned to Mary and pulled her into a hug. “Let me know about lunch on Wednesday,” Ann said. Mary didn’t miss the look Ann gave her, or the almost imperceptible nod her friend made in Tom’s direction.
“Oh, yes, lunch. Absolutely.”
”It was lovely meeting you as well,” Tom said, holding out his hand once more. Ann took it before flashing him one of her dazzling smiles. “Maybe we’ll see you at the symposium.”
“Yes, maybe you will,” Ann said. “Milo! Time to go!”
Mary watched as Milo unhooked himself from the monkey bars and made his way over to Ann. His face was flushed from being upside down, but he was wearing one of his mother's magnetic smiles.
“Say goodbye to Mary and Winnie,” Ann said, nudging her son forward.
“Bye Mary, bye Winnie,” he said with a half hearted wave.
“Bye Milo,” Mary and Winnie said in unison.
Ann and her son started off, Ann turning back once more to give them a quick wave. As Mary watched her friend turn the corner of the hedgerow, she suddenly became very aware that it was now just her and Phoebe’s dad. She turned back towards where he stood and cleared her throat.
“So,” she started awkwardly. “Do you live nearby?”
Tom smiled.
“Down on Gracechurch Street,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the neighborhood. “Number twelve.”
“Oh, we live on Gracechurch as well!” Mary laughed. “We’re number twenty.”
“What a coincidence,” he replied. She was getting very used to the sight of his smile and she found herself blushing each time it appeared. “I suppose that makes sense, seeing as the girls go to school together.”
Mary nodded, realizing how obvious the observation was. If she were with Will, he would have poked fun at her, but Tom didn’t. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together before saying, “Well, it was lovely meeting you both, but Phoebe and I must get going. I’ll make sure to reach out so we can have a play date.” Mary didn’t miss the use of his word we.
“Yes, lovely meeting you as well,” Mary said, adjusting her glasses before glancing down at Winnie. “We must get going too, so this is perfect timing.” She looked up to smile at Tom. “We look forward to the text,” she said.
The two parties waved to each other as they started walking in opposite directions, and for the first time since the divorce, Mary felt like her life was evening out. She had good friends, her daughter was well-adjusted, and the sun was still shining, despite the forecast claiming it would rain. Winnie’s hand slipped into her as they walked, and Mary gave it an affectionate squeeze.
“Phoebe seems nice,” she said, glancing down at Winnie. The girl looked back up at Mary, and Mary’s heart clenched. She looked so much like her father–her nose, her ears, even the way her lips curled when she was up to something mischievous. But in that particular moment, Mary saw herself in Winnie’s face. She may have her father’s gregarious nature, but Winnie was just as much hers as she was Will’s.
“We play all the time,” Winnie said, swinging their hands between them. “She’s been real sad, though. Her mum passed away last year, so she wasn’t in school much, but she’s back this year and I’m so glad.”
Mary gave a loud swallow.
“Her mum passed away?”
“Mhmm,” Winnie said. “Phoebe said she was really sick.”
Mary glanced behind them to where Tom and Phoebe were walking. She could only make out the green speck of Tom’s shirt and the rainbow stripes of Phoebe’s, but she could tell that they, too, were holding hands and animatedly talking to one another.
“Shall we go have some ice cream?” Mary said, pulling her eyes from the Haywards.
Winnie’s eyes–the exact replica of her own–grew wide with glee.
“Yes!” she shouted. “I want cookie dough!”
“Cookie dough it is.”
Winnie let out a contented sigh. “You’re the best mum ever,” she said, hugging Mary’s arm.
To anyone else, it wasn’t much, but to hear those words from her daughter meant the world to Mary. For all the things in her life she had accomplished, being a present, nurturing parent to Winnie was her greatest accomplishment of all.
“And you’re the best kid,” Mary said, leaning over to place a kiss against the crown of Winnie’s head. “Come on, let’s go.”
The two set off in the direction of the ice cream shop, chatting and laughing, despite the weight that sat in Mary’s chest.