‘I just wanted to check… are your girls supposed to be coming back to mine after school today?’ Fiona had a very distinctive voice, the sort that carried and could quieten a room. She sounded flustered, which was unusual, and Sara stopped walking to listen. ‘It’s just I’ve gone and double-booked myself. I’m supposed to be at a PTA meeting. The secretary just rang to go through the agenda, and I’d forgotten all about it!’
‘Wow, Fiona, you are human after all,’ Sara laughed. ‘I bet that’s a first, isn’t it?’
She waited for a reply, but none came, and she hoped her joke hadn’t caused offence. They’d known each other since their girls had made friends when they’d started secondary school, but Fiona was also sort of her boss now that Sara worked at the community centre, and it had altered the dynamic between them.
‘Well, I’ve had to change my plans,’ she said quickly, to fill the awkward silence. ‘Matt’s working, so I’ve had to cancel my night out. I can pick them up now.’
‘Oh, thank goodness.’ Sara heard a quick intake of breath. ‘No, sorry, that sounds wrong. I’m sad you’re missing your fun. You’ve been looking forward to it, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah, I was.’ Sara could hear the disappointment in her own voice and didn’t want Fiona feeling sorry for her. It’s only a night out, she told herself. There’ll be others. ‘Anyway, it’s not a problem,’ she said, making herself sound brighter than she felt. ‘Not a problem at all. In fact, why doesn’t Chelsea come to ours, then at least the girls get their evening together?’
‘That would be perfect.’ Fiona sounded delighted. ‘You sure you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not. I owe you a favour anyway, don’t I? After giving me a job, it’s the least I can do.’
‘Honestly, I’d cancel the bloody thing, but I’ve got to be there, you know, as chairwoman. Wouldn’t look good if I didn’t turn up.’
‘Look, don’t worry about it. You go and do your chairwomanly thing. You’re doing a brilliant job, by the way. Everything seems to be running much better since you’ve been on the board. At least we parents know what’s going on these days.’
Fiona had moved into the area three years ago, and had already made quite an impact, finding herself positions on the management boards of several organisations, including the school and the community centre where Sara now worked. She’d explained to Sara that she’d made some money when she’d sold her previous business, and wanted to take a bit of time out to give back to the community while she decided what to do next. Not that she needed to work.
She and her family lived in one of the big gritstone villas that would have belonged to the quarry owners in times gone by. The house had been rundown when they’d moved in, and they’d done a complete renovation, adding a huge orangery across the back with the most stunning views over the Wharfedale valley. Sara had only met Fiona’s husband Maurice a handful of times, when she’d gone to collect the girls from sleepovers, and he seemed pleasant enough, if a little distant. He was fifteen years older than Fiona and ran a clothing business, with factories in India that he visited on a regular basis. It seemed to suit Fiona that he was away a lot – absence makes the heart grow fonder, she’d commented – and it gave her space to be queen bee in her own world of charities and public sector bodies, which were always on the lookout for board members with business acumen. Sara wouldn’t be surprised to see her standing as an MP in the future. Or finding some other influential position. She was definitely a mover and shaker, and Sara had to admit to being slightly in awe of her. At the same time, though, Fiona was easy to get along with, which was probably the secret of her success.
She laughed now, an earthy sound at odds with her perfect diction. ‘Oh, stop it. I don’t think it’s all me. There are a few new faces and we do seem to be pulling in the same direction, unlike the last set of board members. Anyway…’ She strung out the word, clearly looking for a way to end the conversation. ‘I’ll see you later. Is nine okay for me to pick up Chelsea?’
‘Yeah, that’s fine. Hope you have a good meeting.’ Sara ended the call, pushing the phone into her pocket before running down the path to her car. She was cutting it fine now, and Ezra got upset if she was late.
She made it just in time. Ezra was already in his coat, standing by the door, his backpack in his hand. It would be fair to say that he’d learnt to tolerate nursery, but he definitely didn’t love it, and as for making friends, he hadn’t managed to develop strong connections with any of the other children as yet. He didn’t seem to be interested, happier in his own little world, surrounded by his familiar things, with Sara in the background if he wanted company. Self-contained, that was how the nursery teacher had described him, and Sara didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. If she tried to organise play dates, he resisted, so she’d given up, hoping he’d get the hang of social interaction when he started school.
It was a lovely sunny day, quite warm for the end of April, and Sara had made them a picnic to take up onto the moors, which stretched for miles above the town. She felt the need for fresh air and exercise and knew that Ezra would sleep better for a good stomp around the boulders, where he liked to play hide-and-seek and look for little creatures. She’d sleep better too, she hoped, the planned outing as much for her benefit as his.
‘We’re nearly there, aren’t we, Mummy?’ Ezra said as they drove out of town and up the hill towards the moors. He wasn’t a good traveller, but as long as he knew where they were going, and looked out of the window, he seemed able to cope.
‘A few more minutes,’ Sara said as the hill steepened and the valley was laid out in her rear-view mirror. She felt her heart quicken as she turned a corner and the land fell away to her left, while the boulder-strewn moors rose up to her right, wild and rugged and inviting.
Although some people found the vast open space unnerving, the moors were one of her favourite places. She remembered coming up here as a child on the bus with her mum and Hailey. She’d been quite a tomboy when she was young, and had loved to run and explore and climb on the boulders. She’d enjoyed picking bilberries when they were in season, little explosions of flavour straight from the bush. Just thinking about them now, she could taste the sourness on her tongue.
The smell of peat and heather created an earthy mix that awakened so many happy memories, not just of her own early childhood, but also of coming up here with Matt when the children were little. The moors were a part of her, their wildness an expression of how she felt inside, even if her life was a bit more contained these days.
It made her heart sing that Ezra enjoyed being up here as much as she did. Unfortunately, the girls were no longer so enthusiastic. At fourteen, they would be starting their GCSE courses in September and had morphed from girls to young women in the space of a couple of months. These days they didn’t want to scramble over the boulders, or pick bilberries to make into a pie, or have a picnic. Instead, their time was spent deliberating about hair and eyebrows, nails and spots and clothes. So much stress! Sara thought it had been much easier when she’d been young, with no social media or filtered photos setting impossible standards and instilling a fear of not being quite good enough.