Effie and the dog bond as the wheezing man and I discuss the magnificent weather. He waits for his wife and two girls to catch up but they’re far more interested in licking ice-cream cones than in walking. Eventually they draw level, he calls their dog to heel and they move off. We turn back to the Lido.
“I want one of those,” Effie says.
“An ice-cream?” I’m praying she’s not back on the quest for a dog. She’s very persistent.
“No,” she says. “A daddy.”
“You’ve got one,” I gently remind her. I’d hoped Mike turning up last weekend had placated her. I should have known better.
“Sorta,” she says and runs forward.
The Lido is busy, but probably not as bad as it will be later. The shock of the water when we enter takes my breath away. Effie squeals. Then she sets off in search of a water dragon and I follow behind. We have a glorious time but as the cold begins to penetrate, we abandon the water to have an early lunch, wrapping our hands around mugs of chocolate to bring back the circulation. After an afternoon rambling around the park, we head for home.
It’s been one of those golden days where everything comes together. Where you look up from the drudgery of motherhood and realise, it’s all been worth it. Both of us had fun, and we enjoyed each other's company. When Effie is safely in bed, I stretch out on the sofa, a smile still on my face and a warmth in my chest. I defy Dana and Fiona, or Anders himself, to have had a better day.
Sunday is wet, so Effie gets her wish to re-watchHow to Train Your Dragon. When I accidentally mention the film is based on a book, she pesters me until I download the first one and beginto read it to her. The illustrations don’t work so well on my phone, but we pass a pleasant afternoon snuggled up together while the rain smatters on the windowpane.
Monday comes, grey but dry. I check the forecast and the rain is due to hold off until the evening. I have held back from mentioning anything until now because the weather on this little island is so changeable. But as she scrambles onto her chair at the table, I ask, “Would you like to go to Legoland?”
“Legoland?” she echoes. “Is it a land made of Lego?”
“It’s not an entire land but a big park. They have rides and…”
“Do they have Lego?” she cuts to the chase.
“Yes,” I say, hoping they do. I’ve never been, but I messaged Nur for a recommendation and she suggested it. And that’s how we find ourselves climbing into our trusty conveyance, Lucinda, and heading down the motorway toward Windsor.
Effie loves it. We spend longer than I like in the Lego playroom but there’s still time for most of the attractions. Unlike the lad in front, who has to be restrained from jumping out of the boat as we float down the Fairytale Brook, Effie stays seated, but her eyes shine and she catches my hand as she calls out each character she recognises; Little Red Riding Hood and the three little pigs, a troll hiding under a bridge.
Effie has a remarkable talent. If she’s unhappy, everyone suffers. But if she’s happy, she brings joy to the world. And she is having so much fun. We ride the carousel and the dragon rollercoaster, go under the water in the submarine and marvel at the models of London landmarks in Miniland.
Not a little part of me is smug as we head back to the car park. It’s not often I feel like I’m smashing this motherhood lark but Effie is so happy as she climbs into Lucinda, I know I’ve done good. It’s a rare feeling.
We set off for home, following the long line of cars exiting the car park. Eventually, we reach the exit and turn onto the mainroad. But as I’m accelerating up to speed, suddenly all power disappears. When I brake, it feels hard, like nothing is working. I steer into the side of the road as we finally come to a stop.
I sit stunned for a few seconds, then a car hoots at us, and I reach for the hazard lights. We’re sitting ducks here. Anyone could rear-end us. Effie! I whip around to check on her, but she’s still happily ensconced in her car seat. She hasn’t noticed anything wrong yet.
But she will. Attempting to keep my voice as calm as possible, I explain to her that Lucinda is sick and can’t go any further. I tell her we need to get out so I can call someone to come and help Lucinda. Then, moving fast, I wait for a break in the traffic before hopping out and hurrying around to her door.
“Quickly,” I tell her as I help her out. For once, she doesn’t ask questions; she’s too tired. There’s a path to one side and I park her there as I gather coats and bags. Lucinda looks entirely innocent. There’s no steam leaking skyward, no smoke, no obvious damage but I have a sense she may never recover. Not being at all mechanically inclined, I have no idea what is wrong but at least I have breakdown cover. I pull out my phone and contact the service I’d joined, never expecting I’d have to use them.
It’s an age before an operator picks up, which is not a good sign. When they do, I answer all their questions.
Finally, the operator says, “Someone will be with you in three hours.” It’s said in a reassuring tone of voice.
“Three hours?” I echo. “It’ll be dark by then.”
“Three hours,” the voice reaffirms. “It’s a bank holiday. Unfortunately, we’re very busy.”
“But I’m a woman alone with a child. Surely that’s a priority?”
“Thatisour priority response,” the operator confirms and disconnects. I pity any poor bugger who is in a group. They’ll likely be waiting a week. But it doesn’t help Effie and me.She’s wilting. If this goes much further, she’ll be in danger of a meltdown.
I check my phone again. We’ve been at the park all day and my battery is in low-power mode. Effie’s voice interrupts, pale and small, none of her previous happiness evident. “I’m hungry,” she says. “And it's raining.”
She’s right. And we’ve eaten all the snacks I brought with us.
I pull up the hood on her coat, then rifle through Lucinda’s door pockets and centre console. Eventually, I turn up a small packet of cheesy crackers. I’ve no idea how old they are but they’re probably safe, if stale. I pass them to Effie. If the look on her face is anything to go by, they’re not fresh but she eats them anyway.
