Short Story Finding friends

It was only a tentative step, but she soon found herself looking forward to her daily challenge

Wow, thanks, Mum.’ Miranda stared down at her birthday gift. A camera. A heavy, digital one with an adjustable lens and aperture and all the bells and whistles of a professional model. What had possessed her mother?

‘I know you have one of those smart phones that take snaps,’ said Maureen. ‘But this will get you to the next level. You’ve always been good at photography and I thought you might like to join a club. Get out and meet new people.’

Now that you and Mike aren’t together and you have the social life of a hermit crab, she tactfully didn’t add.

Even though Mike had been gone for a month, Miranda was still sitting in front of the TV every night, dragging herself through each day without phoning any of her friends.

That evening, Miranda read the manual, printed in five languages, and realised there was a great deal to learn.

The last page had a light-hearted suggestion. “Beginner? We challenge you to take a photograph a day. Start by shooting a subject beginning with A. By the time you get to Z, you’ll be entirely familiar with your new camera. For feedback on your pictures, why not post them on social media?”

I could do that, Miranda thought. I haven’t posted anything for ages.

A is for apple.

Where’s an apple I can shoot?

The apple was easy. A nice shiny golden delicious. She was pleased with the picture and posted it first thing the next morning. There wasn’t much to say about an apple, so she added, ‘Keeping the doctor away.’ To her surprise, the photo attracted a lot of comments, some from people she hadn’t spoken to for ages.

‘What have you got against doctors? I can hook you up with some good ones!’ This was from Katie, her friend who nursed at the local hospital and said she totally understood why Miranda had dumped Mike.

It was the other way around, actually. She hadn’t been ready to admit it at the time, and then the things Katie told her about Mike once he’d gone made her realise it had been no bad thing he’d left. She phoned Katie that evening and they met up for a drink. The doctors sounded promising and Katie said that she’d arrange a double date.

B is for… ball?

Next day, Miranda spotted a football on the grass outside her window. She’d often heard boys playing behind the fence and they must have kicked it over. Perfect.

She went outside, armed with her camera, notebook and instruction manual, and laid down to get a close-up. The green of the grass would look good with the red and white of the ball. Maybe she could angle it a little for an arty shot.

‘Hi,’ said a deep voice above her head. ‘When you’ve finished examining our ball, could we have it back, please?’

A man smiled down at her from over the fence. A rather nice-looking man, with one of those crinkly smiles that charms the socks off everyone he meets. Miranda recognised the type – she’d lived with that sort of smile for months.

‘Oh, it’s yours?’ she asked coolly. ‘Well, just a minute.’

Under his amused gaze, she rubbed it clean with a tissue and positioned it just right. ‘Nice camera,’ he remarked. ‘Are you a professional photographer?’

‘No.’ Miranda didn’t intend to engage in flirtatious banter with her neighbour. She was off charming men forever and when she looked up, he’d vanished behind the fence. Once she’d taken several shots, she picked up the ball and tossed it back.

‘Ouch!’ a boy’s voice exclaimed indignantly. Miranda paused.

‘Sorry,’ she called, alarmed. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No worries, Nathan’s fine.’ The voice was smiling.

‘No, I’m not. My ear hurts.’ This voice was indignant. Nathan, who sounded very young, clearly wasn’t going to let his father make light of his injury. She decided to play along.

‘Oh dear, Nathan. Would you like me to call an ambulance?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe a plaster, then? And a sweetie to make it better?’

There was silence and then he called, ‘Well, I’m not bleeding, but a sweet would make it better.’

‘Right. Just hang on.’ She went back into the house and returned with a packet of wine gums she’d been saving. The man’s head appeared again.

‘Wine gums? My favourite.’ He grinned.

‘You really do know how to impress a man, don’t you?’

‘I’m not trying to impress you. These are for Nathan.’

‘I’m sure he’ll share with his old dad. He’s very well brought up.’

There was a scuffling sound and

Nathan’s head appeared.

‘You can’t trust my dad. He ate all my Easter eggs when I wasn’t watching.’ Nathan had a mop of curly red hair and freckles and showed no sign of injury.

‘What can I say? I have a sweet tooth. I’m Marcus Fleming, by the way.’

He extended his hand over the fence and she shook it. He seemed nice with beautiful, warm brown eyes and a voice that made her tingle.

‘I’m Miranda Hart. The other Miranda Hart.’ She’d learnt to add this caveat when she was introduced. ‘So who’s the other one?’ ‘You don’t watch TV much, then?’

‘Hardly ever. We do a lot of reading, Nathan and I.’

Marcus had the right idea as a father, then.

‘You watch Doctor Who, Dad; you say it’s educational.’ Nathan gave a knowing grin and Miranda could see him give his father a dig with his elbow.

‘I love that show, too,’ said Miranda, throwing the sweets. Both heads disappeared, and then…

‘Thank you, Miranda,’ called Nathan.

That night, she looked at her photo, pleased with the result and posted it online with the caption ‘B – beauty in small things.’ Her friends had formed a fan base, and all replied enthusiastically.

‘So you’re into footie now?’ wrote Ellie, who she hadn’t seen for more than a year.

‘If you are, why not join our girls’ team, Bootgirls? We meet every Saturday!’

Miranda didn’t see herself chasing a football, but getting out for more exercise would be a good thing. She put on her trainers and headed for a jog in the park.

She was surprisingly happy to be running again but soon she started to gasp and had to stop to catch her breath. I really need to do more exercise, she thought.

‘Hello, Miranda!’ Nathan was suddenly at her elbow, clutching his ball. ‘Are you running with my dad?’

‘No,’ said Miranda, happy to know that Marcus was around. ‘I’m just here for a bit of fresh air. Does your dad come running here often?’

Sneaky. But she would like to know a bit more about her neighbour.

‘We come here just about every day but he doesn’t run much. We play footie, though.’

‘Every day? Doesn’t your dad go to work?’

‘Not really. He just plays on his computer at home.’

‘And your mum?’ asked Miranda. ‘Does she go to work?’ She realised too late this was not a question she should ask, but Nathan answered casually, ‘No, my mum went to heaven when I was a baby. Now we have Mrs Mcintyre to help cook for us, but she says she can’t kick a ball because her knees are the very devil.’

‘Poor Mrs Mcintyre.’ Well, that answered her question.

She was gearing herself up to start running again, when Nathan shouted, ‘Hey, Dad! Here’s Miranda!’ And Marcus came jogging up behind her, looking extremely good in running shorts and, admirably, hardly sweating at all.

‘Hi, Miranda! Good to see you again.’ His wide beam told her that he was equally delighted to see her.

She flushed.‘you, too.’

‘Are you done running for the moment? Like to join me for coffee?’

‘Sure. Is there a shop around here?’ ‘Nope. Something just as good, though.’ He led them to a bench and opened a bag containing a flask and plastic cups.

‘Nathan and I often sit and have a drink. Nate, juice for you.’

She joined him on the bench, watching as he poured them each a cup of coffee.

‘Hope you don’t mind filter,’ he said, offering her a chocolate biscuit. ‘I wasn’t expecting a guest for tea.’ Real filter coffee. Marcus had a lot of good points.

‘It’s great that you can be involved as a father and come to the park with Nathan so often,’ she said. ‘I guess there is an upside to being out of a job.’

‘Out of a job? Is that what he told you?’ Marcus grinned. ‘Being attached to my computer by an invisible umbilical cord isn’t exactly unemployed. I’m a researcher for a biotech company. Suits me pretty well – I just check into the office once a week while Nathan’s at school.’

‘Oh.’

‘So, taking more pictures of balls, then?’ ‘No,’ she smiled. ‘You must have thought I was crazy. But I’m working my way through the alphabet with pictures. A, B, C. The camera manual tells me I’ll be an expert by the time I’ve reached Z.’ ‘And where can we see these photos?’ ‘I’m putting them up online so my friends can comment.’

‘I might need to become your friend, then, so I can comment, too,’ he said, casually sipping his coffee.

‘That can be arranged.’ Something was starting here, she could tell; she felt a little flutter of excitement.

‘So, what have you in mind for C, then?’ She laughed. ‘I haven’t thought that far.’ ‘Here’s a thought. How about meeting us here tomorrow for an artistic composition of coffee and doughnuts?’

She paused. ‘That would cover C and D, wouldn’t it? Thanks, I’d love to.’

‘Or perhaps the D could be dinner together on Saturday?’ Marcus was full of good ideas. Working through the alphabet with her new friend was going to be a lot of fun.

‘SOMETHING WAS STARTING HERE, SHE COULD TELL’

THE END

Ginny Swart, 2020