Fast forward five years…

“Angela, please sit still. I’m almost finished,” Shelagh scolded her daughter.

“Hurry, Mummy. I can’t be late on my first day!” Angela fussed.

Patrick Turner crouched in front of his daughter. “You’re like a Mexican Jumping Bean, Angela!” He tapped her nose. “There’s plenty of time, sweetheart. Just let Mummy finish your plait. Is your bag packed?”

“Silly Daddy. You packed it with me last night. And Mummy put my lunch in there this morning.” She turned her head to her mother again. “Did you put the biscuits in, Mummy? Charlotte said we could play tradesies at lunch.”

Shelagh turned her daughter’s head back once again. “Yes, I put the biscuits in. But wouldn’t it be easier if Charlotte’s mother and I just gave you what you want in the first place?” She finished the yellow bow at the end of the plait. “There, all finished. Now let me see.”

Angela turned to her mother and stood for inspection.

“You’ll do. Can you try to keep the ribbon in your hair for a little while, dearest?”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Ange,” Timothy advised from the kitchen. “Right, then, I’m off. Don’t forget, I have cricket after.”

“Right. Good luck, son,” Patrick smiled.

Shelagh reached up and kissed her son’s cheek. “Did you remember to bring a snack for later? You’ll get hungry if you don’t.”

“I took the last apple. Oh, and the rest of the biscuits. Sorry,” he smirked. “Thanks, Mum. Oh, and Mum?”

“Hmmm?” Shelagh asked, straightening Angela’s jumper.

“Have a good day today. She’ll do fine.” He tugged the sweater sleeve back and grinned broadly.

“Bye, Timmy, have a happy day!” Angela called.

“Happy day, Ange!” Tim called back as the door slammed shut behind him.

---

Angela skipped the whole way, hand-in-hand between her parents. The schoolyard entrance was crowded with first day well-wishers. Children ran to meet up with friends, while others hung back, teary and nervous. Angela stopped and looked over at the entrance to the building. “There’s Charlotte!” she sang out, moving away from her parents.

“Hold on there, young lady,” Patrick caught her by the shoulder. “Anything to say to us?”

“Sorry, Daddy. I’m just so excited!”

“Say a proper goodbye to your mother first.”

Angela hugged her mother tightly. “Bye, Mummy. Have a happy day!”

“Have a happy day, Angel girl,” Shelagh answered, squeezing her back.

With a quick hug and a “Bye, Daddy!”  Angela turned and ran to join her class.

Shelagh stood quietly watching as her daughter filed into the school.

“Well, that’s a good start,” Patrick commented wryly.

When his wife didn’t respond, he looked at her, his head tilted to one side. “Sweetheart, she’ll be fine.”

Shelagh shook her head. “What if she’s not ready? She’s so little, Patrick. All the other children are older than she is. Perhaps we should have waited.” Her eyes filled with tears she tried hard not to shed.

“My love, that girl has been ready for school since she was two years old! It’s a good thing, her enthusiasm. And imagine if Charlotte had gone off to school and Angela had to stay home.” He laughed softly. “You’d be wishing then that she’d gone.” Gently he brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

Shelagh sniffled and gave him a watery smile. “I suppose you’re right, dearest.”

He laughed more loudly now. “Shall we mark that on the calendar, then?” With a wink, he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers.

Shelagh laughed, the melancholy passed.

“That’s my girl,” he told her and placed her hand on his arm. Turning towards home, he said, “You have me all morning! What shall we do? A walk by the river? Teashop? Anything you like.” Patrick squeezed her hand. “Think of something you haven’t been able to do, and we can do it.”

Shelagh thought quietly. As they neared home, she said, “Bubbles.”

“Bubbles?’ he asked, confused.

“A bubble bath. I haven’t had one in ages.” Shelagh smiled at the thought.

Patrick nodded. It wasn’t what he had planned, but if it cheered her up, then fine. “All right, then, you do that, and I’ll do some paperwork. Then we can have tea out in the garden before I go in to the surgery.”

“Oh,” Shelagh answered slyly, her hand toying with the cuff of his sleeve. “Don’t you like bubbles, dearest?”

Patrick threw his head back and laughed. “I think I might enjoy today even more than Angela!”