‘When I was little I used to lie on the beach with my grandpa and spot shapes in the clouds,’ I said. I’d forgotten that until now, looking up at a vaguely snowman-shaped cloud, hovering above us.
‘Do you want to build a snowman …’ sings Alex.
‘You’ve spent too much time doing agency work on the kids’ ward.’
‘Tell me about it. I reckon I know the entire plot of Frozen inside out.’
‘Does it even have a plot?’ I ask.
He turns his head to look at me. ‘Have a plot? I’ll have you know there are academics right now arguing the toss over whether Frozen is a feminist tract or if it’s inherently problematic because of its depiction of the trolls.’
‘Seriously?’
He nods. ‘Seriously.’
‘I think I need to watch it and find out.’
‘Deal.’ He turns his head and looks back up at the sky. The air is heavy with the scent of candyfloss machines, bitter coffee, and the faint waft of something distinctly animal-ish from the zoo.
‘Roaaaar!’
Something flies past our heads and I roll over onto my side just as Alex does, so we are looking straight at each other. His eyebrows gather in a frown, but he’s laughing. He rolls over, and pushes himself up to standing.
‘What the hell was that?’ I scramble up, brushing newly cut grass off my legs.
‘Low-flying zoo escapee?’ he asks.
I point across the park. ‘I think I’ve found the culprit.’
A small child is holding on to a remote control, trying inexpertly to fly a tiny plane, and making sound effects at the same time.
‘Timmy, don’t fly that so close to the people,’ his mother shrieks as she runs toward him, grabbing the remote control, but it’s too late. The plane, which zipped over our heads a second ago, has crashed straight into the newspaper an elderly and grumpy-looking man is reading, while sitting in a striped deckchair. He shuffles the paper and looks at us all over his glasses. Both Alex and I turn away, trying not to giggle.
‘Let’s get out of here before we get into trouble,’ Alex says.
We walk along the edge of the zoo fence, looking up at the netting that hangs over the high rails, keeping us out and the animals in.
A giraffe peers over the fence at us, chewing thoughtfully.
‘Oh look,’ I point to her.
Alex looks up, shading his eyes. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’
‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’
‘Might be a he. I don’t know how you tell with giraffes.’
‘Sorry. Hello, gorgeous giraffe of indeterminate gender,’ I say, laughing. Alex has his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and he gives me a gentle nudge with his shoulder.
‘Fancy an ice cream?’ he asks.
‘God, yes.’
He points to the stall on the other side of the park. ‘Race you.’
‘What are you, five years old?’ I ask, but he’s already gone. I get there ages after him, realising as I stand with my hands on my knees and my lungs feeling like they’re on fire that maybe it’s time I got some proper exercise.
‘Sorry,’ Alex says, from above where I’m bent over. I take a breath in and unfurl myself, standing up to look him in the eye. He hands me an ice cream, swirled with raspberry sauce and covered in rainbow sprinkles.
‘For this—’ I take it from him and lick a trail of ice cream that’s dripping down the side of the cone ‘—I will forgive you. This time.’
‘How’s your friend Gen getting on with her property guardian thing?’
‘Oh—’ I look up. He remembers so much detail. Alex pays attention to little things, I’ve noticed. He’s the only one in the house who remembers how everyone takes their tea and coffee and doesn’t have to ask. It’s nice. ‘I forgot I told you about that. She’s fine, I think. A glitter ball in the bedroom is very much her style.’
‘I wanted to ask your advice about something,’ Alex says, as we start walking again. I look at him sideways. He’s biting the edge of his ice cream cone, frowning in concentration as he twirls it round. I’ve never seen anyone eat an ice cream like that.
‘Go on.’ I scuff my toe on the gravel of the path. A flock of tourists fly past us on Boris Bikes, shrieking with laughter, and we jump out of the way.
‘It’s about Emma.’
Oh.
No.
My ice cream becomes very interesting and I look at it intently, hoping that I haven’t gone red in the face. Alex stops, turning to look at me. I try to put it off, but I have