Who: Toby Randall & Vasya Yevgeniy
What: Mother & daughter park antics interrupted by a Russian
When: First week of February
Where: Regent's Park.
Warnings: Dapper men with accents?
The diner was a dim memory this afternoon, a jangling-bell and warm-greasy smell sense-memory that could be gratefully forgotten as the wheels of the pushchair crunched over gravel and did their best to swerve (battered old thing, hauled with casting-about anxious look out of a skip; fine after being wiped down and washed with anti-bacterial soap, besides, Lily so bundled up with blankets inside she'd not even notice). Cool-cold air buffeted the small figure pushing, blew away what shadows of sleep and fatigue clung to her and ruffled banner-bright blond hair streaming as she wrapped her hands white-knuckle tight around the handles, pushing forward and walking with heavy-headed purpose so as not to fall forward and asleep on her feet. The park was not empty, gray skies spread out overhead but not cold enough to make the place abandoned and the hour was one for the shuffling, often-stopping walk of mothers patiently hand in hand with toddlers making world-discoveries, or white-headed, dignified couples arm in arm. The slow scrunch of wheels heralded parked brakes and with difficulty, Toby bent forward, eased apart blankets that cradled small-inquisitive girl-child who peeped out at the world like the centre of a flower and lifted her out.
They sat there, then, sodden wooden bench from the night's rain cushioned by thick duffle-coat and a soft-steady stream of babble interspersed with quiet words could be heard - as if overhearing a conversation, interchanged between the young woman who bent her head low to hear, who pointed out the ducks on the pond beyond the railings, tossed stale bread out toward the water as baby crumbled crusts between busy little fingers, anxious to do her part. The Randall girls were too caught up with one another on this day (one of so few recently, without parting, without work as a hard slog and sleepy baby with pink cheeks and rage-filled impotent wail at having her chubby arms removed from wrapped-around mother's neck) to notice footsteps or intrusion, with the soft splash of water from shaking duck's wings and the hum of small nothing-conversation enjoyed, faces turned occasionally up toward weak sunlight.
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