Lazy day

Saturday morning arrived in North London wrapped in warm sunshine and the rarest of parenting gifts.

Nothing was urgent.

No school run.

No Scout camp timetable.

No packed lunches.

No permission slips.

No frantic hunt for a missing shoe that had somehow ended up in the bathroom.

Mrs Brand woke naturally at half past seven and lay quietly for a moment.

The house was peaceful.

She smiled.

Scout Week was over.

She found herself replaying little moments in her head.

Alfie patiently teaching younger children to tie knots.

Helping without being asked.

Quietly carrying heavy boxes for volunteers.

None of it surprised her.

It never did.

Alfie had always been like that.

Reliable.

Thoughtful.

The sort of child who would probably apologise if somebody else accidentally stood on his foot.

She reminded herself—as she often did—that children like Alfie still needed to hear they were appreciated.

Good children didn’t stop needing praise simply because they made parenting look suspiciously easy.

Then she thought about Barry.

Barry.

Who had started Monday by accidentally destroying government-grade camping equipment.

Who had finished Friday talking about kindness being the best badge.

She smiled whilst stirring her coffee.

“I honestly didn’t see that coming.”

Mr Brand wandered downstairs, still looking mostly asleep.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“I know.”

She laughed.

“I expected Alfie to shine.”

“He always does.”

“But Barry…”

“He surprised us.”

“He really did.”

“And Marmaduke.”

Mrs Brand nodded.

“Especially Marmaduke.”

She remembered him gently handling ladybirds.

Comforting Bertie the teddy.

Speaking so calmly during the pretend emergency call – almost Mark’s voice, they all felt it. 

Bandaging Barry’s arm with the concentration of somebody twice his age.

“I wonder…”

“What?”

“…whether we’re seeing the very first signs of another doctor.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“You think?”

“Marjory notices everything. She treats people with enormous kindness.”

“And?”

“Marmaduke does too.”

“He certainly likes looking after people.”

Mrs Brand looked out of the window towards Marjory’s house.

“I think she’d be quietly thrilled if he grew up to care for people the way she does.”

Almost as if summoned by parental thoughts, there was the unmistakable sound of Barry thundering down the stairs.

He was fully dressed.

Mostly.

His T-shirt was on backwards.

His shorts appeared to be inside out.

One sock featured dinosaurs.

The other contained sharks.

Mrs Brand decided this represented progress.

“Morning!”

“I’m starving!”

“You had dinner.”

“That was yesterday.”

“A fair point.”

A few minutes later Marjory appeared at the front gate with Marmaduke.

Bubble the cat escorted them halfway, before deciding that humans generally walked too slowly to be interesting.

Marjory accepted the mug of coffee Mrs Brand handed her.

“You look cheerful.”

“I am.”

“I noticed.”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“I’ve been thinking about Scout Week.”

“So have I.”

“I honestly can’t believe how well the little boys did.”

Marjory laughed.

“I know!”

“Marmaduke…”

“…actually remembered instructions.”

“…and looked after everyone.”

Marjory nodded thoughtfully.

“He was always checking everyone was alright.”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“You know…”

“What?”

“I wondered if we’re seeing little signs of you in him.”

Marjory looked puzzled.

“In what way?”

“The kindness.”

“The calmness.”

“The way he wanted to help.”

Marjory laughed softly.

“I’d settle for him remembering where he left his shoes.”

“He’ll get there.”

“I hope so.”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“I wouldn’t be remotely surprised if one day he became a doctor.”

Marjory looked genuinely touched.

“I think his dad would have absolutely loved hearing that.”

For a moment both women were quiet.

Then Barry burst into the garden wearing a tea towel tied round his neck.

“I’m Super Camper!”

The moment passed.

As moments with Barry usually did.

By eleven o’clock Mrs Brand made an announcement.

“I’ve decided.”

Barry looked excited.

“What?”

“We’re having a lazy day.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…”

She looked directly at Barry.

“…you don’t have to clean your teeth until after lunch.”

Barry stared.

His mouth actually fell open.

“WHAT?”

“It’s a one-off.”

“This is the best Saturday ever.”

Mr Brand laughed.

“Only our family could treat delayed tooth brushing as a luxury holiday.”

By midday everyone was hungry.

Very hungry.

Mrs Brand opened the fridge.

Half a cucumber.

One lonely yoghurt.

Something that might once have been lettuce.

Three eggs.

Milk.

She closed the fridge again.

“The shopping arrives at three.”

“So?” asked Barry.

“So there isn’t much lunch.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“So have I,” said Mrs Brand.

They both said together, “McDonald’s.”

Barry cheered.

Marmaduke cheered.

Alfie smiled politely. (Cheering in public required careful consideration.)

The restaurant was…

Busy.

Very busy.

Actually…

It resembled a transport hub following a national rail strike.

Every table was occupied.

Children were laughing.

Babies were crying.

Milkshake machines whirred.

The electronic order screens beeped constantly.

Barry looked around in amazement.

“Everyone had the same idea.”

Mrs Brand sighed.

“Apparently.”

Mr Brand looked towards the drive-through queue.

“I’m glad we’re eating inside.”

Mrs Brand gave him the look.

“The last drive-through ended with ketchup inside the seatbelt.”

“And?”

“I’m still finding chips.”

“It was six months ago.”

“I know.”

“I found one yesterday.”

Eventually they found a table.

Mrs Brand ordered using the touchscreen.

Barry wanted chicken nuggets.

Marmaduke wanted a Happy Meal.

Alfie chose a hamburger meal.

Mr Brand ordered something involving considerably more calories than he’d admit to his running club.

Mrs Brand and Marjory simply wanted food.

Any food.

The screen confidently announced…

Estimated wait: 8 minutes.

Mrs Brand smiled.

“That’s not bad.”

Eight minutes passed.

Nothing.

Ten minutes.

Nothing.

Fifteen minutes.

Still nothing.

Barry wandered back.

“Is our lunch hiding?”

“I hope not.”

Twenty minutes.

Thirty.

Mr Brand checked the screen.

“They’re still preparing it.”

“What are they preparing?”

Mrs Brand asked.

“Just planting the potatoes now!”

Barry lay dramatically across the bench.

“I’ve become hungry forever.”

“That’s not medically possible,” said Marjory.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fairly sure.”

“I think I’ve shrunk.”

“You haven’t.”

“I definitely have.”

Thirty-five minutes.

Children who’d arrived after them were already eating.

One family had finished.

Packed up.

Left.

Another family arrived.

Ordered.

Collected food.

Barry watched in horror.

“They’re overtaking us.”

“It does appear so.”

Finally…

After almost forty minutes…

A number appeared.

Mrs Brand stood triumphantly.

“It’s ready!”

The children cheered.

Even Alfie looked relieved.

Mrs Brand collected the trays.

Walked back.

Placed everything on the table.

Everyone stared.

Barry frowned.

“Mummy?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t order fish.”

Mrs Brand looked.

Fillet-O-Fish.

She looked at the second wrapped burger.

Also…

Fillet-O-Fish.

Mr Brand blinked.

“…That’s unusual.”

Barry looked horrified.

“I hate fish fingers.”

“This isn’t even fish fingers.”

“It’s giant fish!”

Mrs Brand sighed the sigh of somebody who had reached the final level of patience.

“I’ll sort it.”

Back to the counter she went.

The young manager apologised immediately.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“It happens.”

“We’ll remake it.”

“Thank you.”

“It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Mrs Brand smiled politely.

Inside her head she was calculating whether “a few” was being measured using geological time.

Back at the table…

Barry was attempting to identify every chip by size.

“This one’s called Colin.”

Alfie looked up.

“You’ve named a chip?”

“He’s brave.”

“He’ll be eaten.”

“I know.”

“Poor Colin.”

Marmaduke had discovered the cardboard Happy Meal box.

“It turns into binoculars!”

Barry immediately wanted binoculars.

“You’ve already got pretend binoculars.”

“These are burger binoculars.”

Ten more minutes passed.

Finally…

Actual chicken nuggets appeared.

Along with Barry’s cheeseburger.

Mrs Brand checked every single item.

Twice.

Nobody complained.

They simply ate.

Immediately.

Parents know this moment well.

Conversation temporarily becomes unnecessary.

Halfway through lunch Barry looked up.

“This is nice.”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“I’m glad.”

“But…”

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t very fast.”

Mr Brand laughed.

“You’ve noticed.”

“It should be called…”

Barry thought carefully.

“…Eventually Food.”

Marmaduke nodded.

“Or Nearly Tea-Time Food.”

Even Alfie smiled.

“I suppose ‘fast’ is relative.”

Barry frowned.

“What’s relative?”

Mr Brand answered.

“Someone in your family.”

Barry considered that.

“So… Grandad Food?”

Mrs Brand couldn’t stop laughing.

Even Marjory nearly snorted her drink.

The poor young employee walking past looked deeply confused.

Back outside, the sunshine felt glorious.

The children ran around a little patch of grass while the adults enjoyed the novelty of sitting down for two whole minutes.

Mrs Brand watched the boys.

Barry pretending to rescue imaginary campers.

Marmaduke carefully checking everyone had survived the imaginary rescue.

Alfie quietly making sure neither of them wandered into the car park.

It struck her that Scout Week hadn’t changed them.

Not really.

It had simply polished what had already been there.

Alfie’s quiet leadership.

Barry’s enormous heart hidden underneath his enormous enthusiasm.

Marmaduke’s instinct to care for everyone around him.

Those qualities had always existed.

People had simply given them room to grow.

Back home, the grocery delivery arrived at almost exactly three o’clock.

The driver smiled cheerfully.

“Big shop?”

Mrs Brand looked into the van.

“It appears we’ve ordered enough food to survive winter.”

Mr Brand started carrying bags inside.

Barry immediately grabbed one.

“I’ll help!”

Mrs Brand smiled.

“Thank you.”

Barry staggered slightly.

“This one’s heavy.”

“I’ve got it.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“…I’m helping.”

Mrs Brand looked across at Mr Brand.

He simply smiled back.

Neither of them said anything.

There wasn’t really any need.

As the shopping was unpacked, Bubble wandered in through the open back door as though he owned the place.

Which, in fairness, he rather believed he did.

He sniffed one bag.

Another.

Paused beside the chicken.

Looked hopeful.

Marjory folded her arms.

“No.”

Bubble blinked.

“No.”

Bubble looked at Barry.

Barry whispered,

“I don’t think she’s changing her mind.”

Bubble left with all the exaggerated dignity of somebody deeply offended by a lack of complimentary poultry.

That evening, after baths, clean teeth (eventually) and stories, Mrs Brand tucked Barry into bed.

“Did you have a good day?”

“The best.”

“What was your favourite bit?”

“The nuggets.”

“Really?”

“…No.”

“What then?”

Barry thought.

“Helping with the shopping.”

Mrs Brand looked surprised.

“Not McDonald’s?”

“It was too slow.”

She laughed.

“It certainly was.”

“And they kept giving me fish.”

“They did.”

Barry yawned.

“I like helping now.”

Mrs Brand gently brushed his hair back.

“I’ve noticed.”

“Do you think I’ll get another kindness badge?”

She smiled softly.

“You don’t need someone to hand you one.”

“Why not?”

“Because every time you choose to help somebody…”

She kissed his forehead.

“…you’re already wearing it.”

Barry smiled sleepily.

“I’ll wear it tomorrow too.”

“I hope you do.”

Across the landing, Alfie carefully arranged his Scout certificates in a folder that was already becoming rather impressive.

Down the road, Marjory tucked Marmaduke into bed with a hug, thankful for another ordinary Saturday full of laughter.

Outside, Bubble patrolled the gardens beneath the warm London sky, searching for adventures of his own.

And somewhere, perhaps in a McDonald’s kitchen, somebody was still wondering why they’d somehow managed to give the little boy who hated fish not one…

…but two Fillet-O-Fish burgers.

Some mysteries, after all, are destined to remain unsolved.