First Day at School.(Edited).

Naomi is sitting in the kitchen, her threadbare dressing-gown barely covering her equally ancient nightgown. She had awoken at dawn, her stomach already churning with the thought of what was going to happen today. Now, somewhat anaesthetised by several cups of coffee and too many cigarettes, she knows that she cannot put off this day any longer.
Crossing the room to the stairs she trails her woes around her like the sharp, insistent pain of birth. Once again the umbilical cord will be broken, though the sensation is so different this time. Each step she takes pounds out a litany of coming loss.
‘First day of school, first of many partings to come, first day at…’
Caitlin sits at the top of the stairs, her stuffed cat dangling from one hand while the other holds up her Princess nightie.
‘Mummy, blue cat wants his breakfast and so do I.’
‘Come on then piglet, breakfast’s waiting for you. There’s juice and porridge, eggs and toast, it’s a feast!’
Caitlin giggles. Mummy is funny every morning, but today she is prowling up the stairs just like blue cat.
‘Grhh…gotcha.’ Mummy makes little nibbling noises on her neck so it tickles. Bunny nibbles, that’s what mummy calls them.
She buries her hands in mummy’s pretty hair and wraps her legs around her waist. Blue cat tumbles from her arms and lies on the bottom of the stairs, his face grinning up at her .
‘One, twooo….three and four!’ Mummy and her count the stairs together.
‘Lemme down now,’ Caitlin squirms out of mummy’s arms and marches into the kitchen with blue cat dangling behind her.
She sees the table spread with a tablecloth and remembers that today is special. Proudly she climbs up onto her seat, the table spread ready with knives, forks and spoons. They have been practising a long time for today.
‘What do you want today, cereal, eggs, toast?’ mummy asks.
‘Yes,’ she says.
‘Yes, what?’ mummy laughs. ‘Cereal and eggs and toast? You’ll pop your belly button.’
‘Silly billy. I want my porridge and then can I have some of your eggs on toast?’

Naomi gathers her daughter up in her arms, the sweetness of her little girl’ smell bringing tears to her eyes. She thought that sending Caitlin to playschool would have readied her for this first full day at primary school, but nothing can make this easier.
Placing her back at the breakfast table Naomi tries to make a game of it.
‘Who is going to eat all their breakfast first?,’ she uses her giant voice and Caitlin giggles again.
‘Mummy, pummy, eat my tummy, the giant’s gone away and I’m going to win today.’
It’s a rhyme that she made up long ago, when Caitlin was going through a fussy eating stage. Briefly she thinks of the anxiety she had when there was no-one to turn to, her own mother choosing to live her life away from her family. Her father even more distant. As for her husband Greg, well he’d made it clear that he wasn’t about to give up his freedom for the sake of a child he wasn’t even sure he had wanted.
Aware that her thoughts are straying into deep waters she pulls herself back to the present. ‘Barely five’, she thinks as she watches her baby carefully lifting each spoonful of porridge and spooning it delicately into her mouth, the small blonde head dipped, hiding her startling blue-violet eyes. ‘Where have the years gone to?’
Her own reflection bounces back off the stainless steel teapot, her own fair hair a few shades darker than that of her daughter, her eyes a paler blue. ‘Not much of Greg there,’ she thinks, remembering his brown hair falling across his face, the hazel eyes looking at her in silent supplication the night she told him to stop his playing around or leave them for good.
No…she is not going down that route again. He has made his bed, so let him rot in it.
‘Can I have some more juice please ?’ Caitlin has excellent manners.
‘I’m sorry sweetie, but there’s not enough to last all week.’ How can you tell a child about rationing money and treats like fresh orange juice when her own shoes need repairing and she has to save for Caitlin’s properly fitted ones?
‘That’s okay, I’m full anyway.’
‘It’s not okay,’ she thinks angrily, nothing about the present situation is okay. In fact it stinks, but what else can she do? Just try and stay calm for both her and Caitlin and get this ordeal over with.
Time is passing and she doesn’t want to rush today of all days.
‘Come on then piglet, time to wash and get dressed.’
‘I’m not a piglet, I’m a big girl today.’
Her heart beats an extra thump-thud. The nickname is more an endearment than anything else, but it only goes to show how different things will be from now on.
‘You’ll always be my own special piglet,’ she says, ‘but you’re right. It’s a big day and now you are a big girl. Just don’t forget how much I love you.’
The arms go around her neck as Caitlin makes little noises of regret at upsetting her mummy.
‘I love you too mummy, I can still be your special piglet at home, can’t I?’
*
She stands outside the school gates, a woman who doesn’t know anyone else here, though the feelings of sorrow and unnamed fear is palpable among the other parents. She has worked part-time since Greg left, two years ago and she never got to know any of the other mothers except by sight. Her heart thumps again as she imagines Caitlin alone and unhappy for the best part of the day. School starts at 9.30 am and finishes at 3.30pm. Caitlin will be staying for lunch for the first time. Has she filled in the form correctly? Although her daughter is free from allergies she can be difficult with certain foods. Everything is so different from when she was a child, but that was nearly thirty years ago. She glances around at the other mother’s and pulls her shabby coat closer to her body.’ At least her daughter won’t be dressed any differently from the other children. Uniforms have their uses, ‘she thinks.

Caitlin is jumping up and down with what appears to be excitement. Is it possible that she is actually looking forwards to her first taste of real school?
‘Look mummy, it’s Timmy.’ Naomi looks in the direction pointed out and sees that it is indeed Timmy Knowles, a boy who spent some time at playschool before he was taken away by his mother. Is he back with his father? She thinks. There was some scandal attached to the mother, a court case, something to do with drugs. Now he is standing rigidly at his father’s side , as though fear has rendered him into a wraith of the happy child he once was. She tries to remember the father’s name, but only the surname comes to light.
‘Timmy, hey Timmy?’ Caitlin calls, her eyes aglow with delight at knowing another child in this teeming mass of chattering children.
He looks around and his solemn face splits into a tentative smile. Caitlin is a happy child and has a generous heart that draws both children and adults to her.
‘Can I go see Timmy?’ she asks now. Naomi nods, ‘don’t go without a kiss,’ she says.
Is that what it’s going to be like from now on? The worry that her baby is going to be unhappy, set against the fact that she might be too happy?
‘Nonsense,’ she thinks.
A hand touches her shoulder and she spins around, caught for a moment with all her defences down.
‘I hope I haven’t startled you?,’ he is taller than she remembers. A slim man, perhaps a little gaunt. His hair is dark brown, the eyes grey in this watery September light. She has a thought that they could change with the weather …why does she think that way?
‘Anton Knowles,’ he introduces himself, the right hand held out for her to take. The thought flashes, shimmers a moment and is gone as quick as it came. She was expecting him to bend over and kiss her hand?
‘Hi Anton, good to see you again. How’s Timmy, we haven’t seen him for a while?’ She could have bitten her tongue off, what an idiotic thing to say.
They both look to where their children are solemnly swapping items in their pencil cases.
Naomi laughs, a little strained. He doesn’t seem that bothered though.
‘He’s better now, Mrs Bidgood. Separations are always somewhat traumatic.’
‘Please call me Naomi.’ She replies, it’s not the proper occasion to say she has gone back to her maiden name
Somewhere a bell rings and this is the moment she has been dreading all morning. The children run up, Caitlin hurtling her small body against her mothers. Tim is more composed, he looks up at his father and is rewarded by a casual arm around his shoulder.

‘I ‘m back for my kiss mummy,’ Caitlin says. Her eyes are wide and full of both excitement and a touch of nervousness . She hugs the tiny body to hers, afraid to let go, afraid not to.
‘Come on, Timmy,’ Caitlin is already in charge of the situation.
In no time at all the children are lined up and ready to go inside the echoing halls of their first proper school.
The lump in Naomi’s throat is threatening to spill into tears. She turns away, the movement disguising the wiping of her eyes. Her shift is the same today, 1pm until 3pm. The full shift change won’t start for a week.
‘Would you join me for a cup of coffee?’ She hadn’t seen the brief goodbye with the father and son. The choice is easily made. Where else can she go now except back to an empty house? She fears the silence, the absence of her child.
‘I’d like that,’ she accepts the invitation calmly, though her stomach is still in knots.

The cafe is just around the corner, a place she has seen often but never thought to go inside. The windows are clean, the Venetian blinds pulled up revealing a tiny frill of lace. White walls are decorated with posters of Italy, the tablecloths white and red check. It’s almost too good to be true.
‘Would you like a pastry with your coffee?’ innocuous, yet strangely formal.
‘My stomach wouldn’t take it,’ She would love one, but he’ll see her greed for something she can’t afford.
‘They say that chocolate is good for depression,’ Anton is clearly aware of this milestone, though she would not have guessed it by his calm demeanour earlier.
He orders two coffees with cream and sugar. He says something to the waiter that could be either Italian or French. She isn’t good with languages.
She doesn’t feel the need to make conversation, he engages in a little small talk,’ is she still working for the passport office in the town centre?,’ he asks. She remembers that she has seen him there fairly recently. Was he adding Tim’s name to his passport? It sounds a bit impertinent to ask him what work he does, though he has asked her about her own working life. His must be flexible, not many fathers see their children off on the first day at school.
The waiter brings a pot of coffee with cream and sugar. There is also a plate of chocolate éclairs. Her mouth waters slightly, she needs more than a coffee and cigarette fix. She has to smile as the plate and pastry fork is placed next to her on the table.
‘I’ll pour, shall I?’ he asks. She nods and puts an éclair on her plate.
His smile takes years off his face. She thinks he might be just a few years older than her, maybe five at the most.
‘It’s hard, the first day,’ he says, the sadness in his eyes is evident. There is more than the normal parting day here, but she can’t question him about his wife. Instead she takes a bite out of the éclair, a bit of cream dribbles down her chin. She finds a crumpled tissue in her coat pocket and dabs it away.
‘I knew it was going to be hard,’ she says, ‘I didn’t realise how hard though. They grow up so quickly.’
‘It’s even worse for us, of course, you know, being a single parent.’ So Tim is back with his father then. She wonders how to bring it up, but he beats her to it.
‘Angela, my wife…well ex if I’m going to be honest. She’s back in Rehab, so now Tim is back in my custody.’
‘I’m sorry for that, it must be hard on you both?’ what else can she say?
‘He’ll adapt, He’s never really known anything different.’
‘And you?’ she touches his hand where it rests on the table, strong and supple, much like the man.
He sips his coffee as if putting off what to say. Does she really want an answer?
‘I might have to juggle my working hours, but I can work at home as well.’
There is a moment of silence. She plays with the crumbs of the éclair, his lies untouched. He follows her gaze and picking up the pastry takes a small bite.
‘Watch for the cream,’ she says, too late as it covers his fingers.
His laugh is spontaneous, making her think of the two children, one with blonde hair, and the other dark, striding across the school yard towards an unknown future. It also reminds her of the time and she glances at her watch. Ten-twenty, time to go home, do her bit of housework and prepare food for later. A quick wash and change and then catch the bus to work.
‘I think we both have to make a move soon,’ he says, draining his coffee. ‘Can I give you a lift home?’
She starts to say no out of politeness and then thinks that he probably feels just like her. It’s not something you can explain to just anyone, all the little separations in life that happen between you and your child. It’s there in a look, a certain way of holding them back for just a moment and then having to let them go. He said it all with his remarks about being a single parent. No partner to be there at the end of the day. To talk to, to swap stories with, to lean on another’s shoulder even if it’s just for a moment.
‘Thank you, Anton, I would appreciate that.’

He leaves her outside her door with a brief farewell and ‘let’s have coffee again.’ Once inside she has to get moving. She washes up the breakfast dishes and thinks about Caitlin, it will soon be lunch-time for the children who don’t go home. Will she be okay all on her own? A sudden thought throws out all her planning. What will they serve for lunch? This is something apart from the list of what food Caitlin can’t eat. Someone else will be giving her child her lunch today. What will Caitlin choose? Maybe chicken nuggets with chips or mashed potato. She was planning to serve that for dinner and now it’s ruined. She sinks down onto a kitchen chair and thinks what to do. It frightens her, the things she hasn’t thought of. What if she serves an identical meal? Will it taste better in school? Will there be other things that Caitlin may prefer, more books, and other children to play with?
Stop it, stop it! That road leads to madness. Of course the answer is simple. She has all the ingredients to make a casserole which can be put ready to cook. Failing that then maybe a pizza or something bought in. Silly, she knows, but their meals together are special times.

It’s now 12.15pm and she has to make a move soon if she’s going to get her bus in time. Last night she had put her work clothes ready for today. Her dark blue suit neatly pressed with one of her three work blouses ready to slip on. Next week she will get the full uniform, she’ll be working 10am until 3pm then and the extra money will come in handy. The very thought of it is bubbling up inside her. She can’t wait to take Caitlin on a real holiday, with plenty of activities and other children to play with. Before that she intends to make this a Christmas to remember though.
The casserole is ready to switch on later. In the fridge she’s prepared a few tea-time dishes. Crunchy raw vegetables with a savoury dip. Chopped strawberries with yoghurt to pour over. It’s something she has done since Caitlin first started going to the childminder for a few hours each day. Rushing back and forwards to her part-time job meant planning meal-times and always having healthy snacks on hand. That way things like chips, burgers and ice-cream were proper treats, not something every child expected as normal. It’s something few mothers even think of…buying ordinary things like this as treats.

She catches the bus with time to spare. That reminds her to get a new bus timetable for next week. A car would be so handy, but that’s for the future. Her mind is still with her daughter and she wonders whether her day is going alright. Visions of her baby crying flash through her mind, she can’t help it. Caitlin is an out-going child, so different from her mother. Naomi remembers her own first day at school, the noise, the concrete playground, and the tiny toilets in the outside yard. The classroom was painted a dull green colour and the windows so high up that sunlight rarely poked its head in that cold, fearsome room. She’d been too scared to put her hand up in class when she needed the toilet. The stigma of wetting her school knickers still made her blush today. She thinks of Timmy as well. Poor kid, a junkie for a mother and what was his father really like? He seemed okay and was obviously going to be about at least for Timmy’s first day. What would happen after that though?
Her fertile imagination sees her waiting for Timmy as well, maybe even taking him home until his father can pick him up. Like Caitlin she also collects waifs and strays.

The bus pulls into the stop and her mind starts the switch-over from mother to civil servant. Her work here is precious to her, she meets lots of different people and enjoys helping them through the nightmare of filling in official forms. Before her marriage and Caitlin’s birth there were other jobs, offices full of giggling girls who teased her because she was shy of going to pubs and clubs. Maybe she had been born to be a mother, certainly the other girls often seek her advice on anything from parents to how soon to allow a feel on a first date.
Her last job before having Caitlin was in these very offices. After her divorce they were pleased to have her back.
Now she sits at her desk and goes through her day’s mail. This week she is on passport clearance, a routine but essential job. Her concentration is total as each application is double checked and then stamped by her for the final process of posting off. This makes her feel good, all those happy people either going on holiday or making business journeys. Then there are the dual citizens who visit parents in far off countries. She thinks of her own maternal grandmother and pushes the though away.
The rattling of the tea trolley brings her back to the present.
‘Tea or coffee,’ Bill never varies his spiel though he knows she prefers coffee.
‘Coffee please Bill, milk and sugar. Have you any of those bun’s today?’
‘One coffee and one currant bun coming up,’ he places them beside her and with a wink passes on to the next customer.
It must be a day for thinking because now she wonders about Bill, the pensioner who works a few hours a day, no doubt to swell his ordinary pension. She knows that other people on benefits struggle to live. Without her own wages and her top-up money she would hardly survive. With Greg finally paying maintenance she can see a brighter future for her and Caitlin.
Her daughter’s smiling face is superimposed on the next passport photo. That serves her right for worrying, she thinks. Caitlin is fine, the school would have rung if anything was wrong. Now she must really concentrate. There are people, some she has met, waiting for these passports. Her shoulder-length dark blonde hair falls over her face as she bends to check the next completed application.

The bus pulls up a hundred yards from the school, leaving Naomi with ten minutes to spare. She glances across at the café, it seems like days have passed since this morning. Then she knows that she is looking for Anton, or his car. Makes of cars have never interested her before, but she thinks it might have been a German car, a Volkswagen or something similar. It was a metallic blue, that she does remember, but she can’t see it parked anywhere. The ringing of a bell calls her back to the present. The first few children are coming out of the school, the little ones are accompanied by two teachers and two older children. She cranes her neck to see Caitlin, unaware of the tears running down her face. The fear, the trauma has been locked inside her all day.
‘Oh God,’ she sees her, skipping along with one hand in Timmy’s and the other propelling a little dark-haired girl behind her. The teacher keeps her back though, as if she knows that just inside the gates is one very anxious mother.
‘Mummy, lookit here, my drawing has got a big shiny star. ‘Her speech has slipped a little but Naomi doesn’t care. Picking her up she whirls her around, her daughter has survived her first school day and although she is full of beans, she still wants her mummy.
Timmy stands nearby, his face a picture of misery. The other little girl has been swooped up by another anxious parent.
‘Mummy, can Timmy come home for tea?’
Naomi has no idea what to say, she was sure that Anton would be there. There is a pause…a moment of doubt that touches both adult and child. Then…
‘Daddy, here, over here.’ He was there, waiting to hug his son, probably as worried as she, maybe more. Men hide their feelings more than women.
She flashes a brilliant smile at him then has to bend down as Caitlin is trying to tell her something.
‘I’m starving mummy. My belly is so empty it’s talking to my mouth.’
Naomi laughs, her baby is fine. There will be many more milestones in the life of her child, that she doesn’t doubt for a second. But she will get by, through sunshine and rain, in any circumstances she has a claim on her daughter for life and that will work both ways.
‘What did you have for lunch?’ she asks.
‘Yucky stuff. Fish fingers with mashed tatoes and peas
‘So what did you have for pudding?’
‘The lady gave me something she called Jam rolly-poly. It was all sticky mummy so I left it. Am I a bad girl for not eating sticky pudding?’
‘No, sweetheart, you eat what you want. Tell the lady to give you a banana or a yoghurt next time. I am sure it was on the list of school meals. Now let’s go home and have our tea.’
‘What about Timmy? I said he could come to tea? ‘ her lips pout with disappointment.
Naomi looks around but there is no sign of Timmy or his father.
‘I think he must have missed Timmy today as much as I missed you. Perhaps he has a big treat waiting ready for Timmy.’ She hopes this will steer her daughter away from tea-time guests. She hardly knows either Timmy or his handsome father right now.
‘Did you miss me mummy?
‘Oh at least this much,’ she holds her arms out to show the tips of her fingers. Caitlin grins, her attention back on track.

Once home again she makes them both some finger food. Some sandwiches and a special treat. Strawberries that can be eaten while she herself gets on with the evening meal.
Caitlin sits on her beanbag watching children’s’ Television as Naomi starts to prepare the evening meal. She considers her routine and wonders briefly whether she is too strict on some things. But she reasons that after Greg left there had to be routine or nothing would have worked out.
Her daughter chatters away happily about what she watches on TV and the new things she found out about school today. The slight uneasiness she had sensed this morning is gone, leaving her wondering about the versatility of children and her own little girl, whose love she will never take for granted.
She won’t get her new pay for another month, but if she manages the money carefully then perhaps she can buy Caitlin one of those fancy backpacks all the kids seem to love. The scuffed shoes will also need replacing, but they can wait for a while.
Her thoughts go out to Anton and the possibility of further meetings. The thoughts are pleasant but not something she will expect to come to anything. She’s already had enough kick backs to last a lifetime.
Little hands clutch at her skirt, ‘ I want cuddles please mummy.’
Her heart melts yet again. Scooping Caitlin into her arms she concentrates solely on the here and now. The weight of the child in her arms, the love that passes between them, unspoken yet so strong.
‘Did you enjoy your first day at big school darling?’ she asks.
‘Yes, but I worried about you. I thought you would be lonely without me.’
There isn’t any answer to that.

………………………………..