‘I really wanted to paint the rainbow. Did you know, rainbows are made when light is reflected through raindrops and that sunlight is made up of lots of colours?’
‘I did know that.’ Veronica might not get out much, but you could learn a lot from reading; books took you to different worlds, gave you a sneaky peek into others’ lives. The television did that too and both mediums had been her saviour. She would’ve been lost without them. ‘So did you get to paint the beautiful colours of the rainbow?’
With a sad shake of the head Layla told her, ‘Kelsie got to do that. She sits next to me most days, I like her, so I didn’t mind and I said I’d do something else. She broke her leg last term and missed out on our trip to the science museum, so I told Mrs Haines that Kelsie should do the rainbow.’
‘That was very kind of you.’
‘It got my name on the kindness calendar too,’ she beamed.
‘What’s a kindness calendar?’
‘We’re doing it at school. I’ll show you.’ From her backpack she pulled out a folded-in-half piece of paper and opened it out on the table. It was for the current month, July, and on every day it had something written already.
‘Mrs Haines had written for next Thursday that someone in the class had to give someone else something that meant a lot to them. She said it meant a lot to Kelsie to do the rainbow and because I’d wanted to do it so much too, I’d fulfilled the task. It means my name goes first on the calendar for that one.’
‘Does the whole class take it in turns?’
‘Some tasks have one child’s name on there, others have a few names because they’re easier.’ She pointed to a square for 1stJuly, which had ‘Smile at a Stranger’ written on it.
‘I didn’t think children were supposed to talk to strangers.’
‘We’re not supposed to talk or go with them, but Mrs Haines said that shouldn’t stop us being friendly. I smiled at the bin man when he took our rubbish away; I made Daddy do it too. Archie in my class stood at the school gate and smiled at every parent who dropped off at the gate. Mr Barnaby, who teaches the other class, had to go and tell him to stop in the end.’
Veronica chuckled. ‘I bet a few parents wondered what was going on.’
‘He’s odd anyway.’
‘Archie?’
‘He never talks to anyone.’
‘It doesn’t mean he’s odd. Maybe he’s shy? So it was extra brave to stand at the gate smiling at people.’ Veronica’s mouth went dry at the thought of being surrounded by all those parents and children, part of a crowd she couldn’t get away from quickly. ‘How does your teacher fit all your names on the calendar?’ The squares were so small she’d have a job fitting five names on, let alone an entire class.
‘The calendar on the wall of our classroom is much bigger than this one. We all have our own copy because we have to think about different tasks and we talk about them in class. And then we have to make sure we do the weekend acts of kindness.’ Once Layla got going, she could hold an audience captive for hours. She pointed to Saturday and Sunday. ‘We all have to do both of those things at home. See, Saturday, today, is to visit a neighbour.’ She delved into her backpack again and took out a fluffy green pencil case from which she pulled a red felt-tip and neatly put a line through today’s date square from corner to corner. ‘I’m seeing you, so I get to cross it off. Easy peasy. Then when I show this to the teacher, my name will go up on her calendar.’
Veronica read Sunday’s instruction. ‘Tomorrow you have to give someone a compliment. Any idea what you’ll do?’
Layla shrugged. ‘Daddy’s having his hair cut later, I could not mention it today and then say something nice about it tomorrow.’
‘Or say it today and cross it off tomorrow’s.’ She nudged Layla. ‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.’ She giggled, enjoying the conspiracy. ‘But if you didn’t get to do the rainbow, what weather phenomenon did you do?’
‘I got snow. I did a big snowflake. Thank goodness I didn’t get fog. Fog’s boring.’
‘Layla, you have more words in your brain than that. Boring is a boring word. Come on, I want at least three adjectives to describe fog: go.’
With a deep breath she thought hard. ‘Grey…thick…’
‘One more,’ Veronica prompted. ‘Think about how it makes you feel.’
‘A bit trapped.’
‘Yes, I suppose it does.’ Trapped. It wasn’t a nice word but it fitted some of Veronica’s experiences perfectly. Still, not here, not in this house.
‘Will you come and see the finished mural at school?’ Layla asked. ‘It’s really good! There’s the rainbow, snow, fog, heatwave, hurricane, a tornado that Jimmy Jones did and which looks a bit of a mess, but he told Mrs Haines that was the point.’
Veronica looked at the calendar again and wished they were still talking about the details instead. ‘I’m afraid I can’t, Layla.’
‘For the same reason you couldn’t see my veggie patch?’ She nodded sadly. ‘I understand.’
‘I knew you would.’ She reached out and put a hand to Layla’s beautifully soft hair. Her own at that age had been blonde but styled much the same way. Like everything else, her hair had changed over the years; it had been grey for the last fifteen and was long. Too long. It reached down between her shoulder blades when she took it out of the bun she wound it into every day until bedtime. She never went to the hairdressers – that was something else she’d given up.
‘Why don’t you ask Daddy to take a photograph of the mural for me? Then I’m not missing out.’ Veronica poured them both a
