Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect by Sarah Catherine Knights Page A

widdled on a every conceivable bush and emptied his bowels twice.  For him it’s been a satisfactory walk and for me … well, it’s just been another one in a line of hundreds, stretching into the far distance of his future with me.  I wonder if David misses dear old Gaz?
    I see a familiar figure walking towards me.  We’re still on the rec, there are a few people dotted about, but I can pick out his walk and the shape of him, as if he’s part of me.  He’s a way off yet – I consider turning and running away from him, as quickly as I can … because I see a small child running just in front of him and … Suzie, by his side.
    This is like my worst nightmare.  I’ve lain in bed and envisaged this exact scenario and now it’s happening for real.  My feet are rooted to the ground; I stare at their slow approach and know there is nothing I can do to stop it.  He registers me – I can see the slight change in his stride and awkwardness of his head position; he’s deliberately not looking my way.  He’s talking intently to Suzie.  They’re probably wondering what on earth to say.
    “This is awkward …” I say, as they are now within speaking distance.  “What are the chances … ?”
    “Hello, Anna,” he says, “we’re just out for a breath of fresh air.”
    I look at Suzie and she looks at me.  “Hi,” she says.  I deliberately don’t reply.
    Gemma, at that moment, comes up to her mother and clings on to her legs; Gaz is wagging his tail and is trying to lick her face and Gemma begins to cry.
    “Don’t worry, darling, the doggie won’t hurt you – he’s trying to kiss you.”  She picks Gemma up at this point, which I feel is the worst thing you can do with a child who appears to be frightened of a blatantly friendly labrador.  Why doesn’t she leave the kid alone and let her get used to him?
    “This is Gemma,” Suzie says, pointlessly.  “Say hello to Mrs McCarthy.”
    The child refuses and buries her head in Suzie’s neck.  “Come on, Gemma, be nice …” says Suzie, but now the child has her hands tightly wound round Suzie’s neck and refuses to show her face.
    “Will you come to me?” says David, reaching forward to prize her off her mother.  “Come to David.”
    Gemma’s face appears and she reaches both arms forward, stretching them towards him.  He takes her and says, “Gemma’s not used to dogs, are you?  Gaz loves children, don’t you, ol’ chap? Come and say hello, then.”  Gaz obligingly comes over and David crouches down, showing Gemma how to stroke his head.  “There you are, you see, he’s nice, isn’t he?”
    All this conversation about Gaz is a wonderful diversion from the reality of the three adults having to face each other.  I’m desperate to say something to Suzie, to show her just how much I’m hurting, but Gemma brings me to my senses.  It’s hardly her fault and I don’t want to frighten the little thing.  She’s a beautiful child with rich, brown, curly hair, chubby cheeks and blue eyes; she’s now patting Gaz confidently and he’s beginning to regret his friendliness, as she begins to chase him across the grass, holding onto his tail.  Suzie yells, “Don’t do that!”
    “Have you heard from Adam?” says David.  “Has he got there okay?”
    “There’ve been no reports of crashed airliners, so I assume so,” I say as sarcastically as possible.  Suzie gives me a filthy look.  I feel guilty and add, “I’ve seen a couple of photos on Facebook and he seems to be having a great time.  Have you got his email address?”
    “Yes, I’m going to write to him,” says David, apologetically.
    “I think he needs to hear from you, David, so please do that,” I say.  “He was very upset, you know.”
    “I know … but he’s a grown-up now and he’ll survive,” says David.  I can’t believe how dismissive he’s being of his own son.  I feel my blood begin to boil but again, I stop myself saying anything.
    “Holly