“Nope.” Toby takes a swig of soup.
I can feel myself starting to stammer. Toby knows, but he doesn’t care? “B-b-but what about the others?” I start mumbling in confusion, almost to myself now. “The frogs, the parrots, the… the tigers, the flying squirrels… What about them? They know, they see it, they don’t want anything to do with us, they laugh at us…”
“In fairness, most of them end up getting eaten, Harriet. We’ve all got our bad points. The rainforest is an extremely harsh environment and shrinking in size. Just as the ice caps are. That’s a much bigger issue.”
“But—”
Toby puts the cap back on his flask and straightens out the blanket. “Just enjoy being a polar bear. Appreciate the size of our paws.” He makes his hands into paws and waves them in front of his face again. “Plus,” he adds, “we’re deceptively fluffy and cute.”
I stare at him, too surprised to say anything. Suddenly, cross-legged and bathed in the green light of his pocket torch, Toby looks otherworldly. Mysterious. Knowing. Almost… Yoda-like.
And then he sticks his finger up his nose and goes back to being Toby again.
We sit in silence: Toby fiddling with the channel on the radio and me picking distractedly at a leaf on the bush. There are so many things to think about and yet – somehow – I don’t need to think about them. They’re presenting themselves to me now, fully formed.
I clear my throat and start crawling out from under the bush. I finally know what it is I have to do. “Right,” I tell Toby over my shoulder in my bossiest voice. “You’re coming with me.”
Toby looks at me with wide and delighted eyes. “I am? With you? When?”
“Now. Bring your green torch, Toby.”
I’m going to need all the additional wisdom I can get.
’d like to say that our ensuing journey is a profound one: filled with adventure and inspiration and self-discovery. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? A little bit like Pilgrim’s Progress, without the overwhelming religious analogy.
It’s not.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to walk ten paces behind you?” Toby asks in consternation as we hurry down the pavement. “Would it make you more comfortable?”
“Toby, when does walking ten paces behind ever make someone more comfortable?”
“It depends on whether they see you or not. Although, I have to say it gets a bit tricky measuring the ten paces. It usually requires running up to them and then pacing away again. Which isn’t as subtle as you might think.”
I decide to ignore this. “Just walk next to me, Toby. Like a non-stalker.”
“Golly.” Toby seems overwhelmed. “This is a break with tradition, I have to say. If you change your mind, Harriet, just say the word and I’ll duck behind a tree and pretend to be reading a newspaper or checking for woodworm, OK?”
“OK.” I smile at him. Why have I always been so mean to Toby? He just wanted another polar bear to play with.
“Would you mind terribly if I attempted to hold your hand?” he adds, skipping next to me. “For just a short time? On this beautiful winter day?”
All right, I’m not feeling that sorry for him.
“Yes,” I snap, stuffing mine in my pocket. “I would mind terribly, Toby.”
Toby starts rummaging in his backpack. “I shall make a note of that,” he tells me earnestly. He scribbles something in his notebook. “Perhaps in six months?”
I think of Nick’s hand, the hand I’ll never hold again. My stomach gives a sad little flip and I shake my head.
“Not a problem,” Toby says cheerfully, making another note and putting his book away. “Seven months it is.”
Nat’s house seems even bigger now, although I’m pretty sure it’s the same size. It’s just my guilt making it loom like something out of a Tim Burton film.
“Stand back,” I tell Toby quietly as we approach her front door. “Nat isn’t happy with me. And, much like an angry Camponotus saundersi…”
“Commonly known as the Malaysian ant,” Toby interjects.
“There’s a good chance that when we get close, her head is going to literally explode.”
Toby obediently stands a few metres back and the door opens. Nat’s mum blinks at us a few times. She’s now entirely pink: pink dressing gown, pink towel round her head, pink face mask. She even has a pink eye mask strapped to her head, like inflatable glasses.
“Harriet!” she says, delighted. “Are you here with gifts again? I finished the chocolates and arranged what I could salvage of the pink roses strewn around the driveway. Although the bits with the teeth marks obviously had to go in the bin.”
Sugar cookies. I knew Nat preferred lilies.
“Is Nat here, please?”