eyes drawing the children’s gaze away from her willowy figure and towards the giant oak with its fresh green buds that were only just peeking through gnarled branches.
The group took a few steps closer and one or two leaned against the painted iron railings that formed a square to guard the oak from the more inquisitive visitors. The trunk of the tree was at least six feet in diameter but was by no means solid. The hollow at its core was large enough for a small child to stand up in. Some said it had been a gunpowder ship called the Lotty Sleigh exploding on the Mersey in 1864 that had split the tree asunder, but age had also played its part. Like an old man leaning on crutches, the oak’s boughs were held up by giant metal props to keep it from tearing itself in two.
‘This old gent would have been around long before Calderstones was a park and even before this land was part of a great estate – long before Calderstones Mansion was built. In fact, the tree is older than Liverpool itself,’ Sam said. He looked over towards one of the teachers. ‘Isn’t that right, Miss Jenkins?’
‘Yes, and when we get back to school we’ll be looking at some old maps which show how the area has changed over the centuries,’ she said.
Miss Jenkins was standing in amongst her class and when they had first met a year ago, Sam had thought her not long out of school herself. He had said as much to her and was surprised when she told him she was twenty-eight. The teacher was slightly built with dark hair and almond eyes that always seemed to be smiling and they were smiling at Sam now, making him uncomfortable. He scratched his tangled beard, which, in contrast to Miss Jenkins, made him look older than his years.
‘Why don’t you tell the children about the tree’s special powers, Mr McIntyre?’ she asked.
Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘Now you know I’m not supposed to do that.’
The statement sounded like the perfect ruse to leave the schoolchildren intrigued, but Sam had been told on numerous occasions by his managers not to make up stories but to keep to the script approved by the park ranger services. He was meant to explain how the tree was reputedly the medieval meeting place of the so-called Hundred Court, but that wasn’t going to impress a group of eight year olds. Sixteen faces – nineteen if you included the teaching staff – looked at him expectantly. What harm could it do? he asked himself.
‘Can you keep a secret?’
When the flurry of yeses ebbed away, Sam made a point of looking around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. ‘Legend has it that this is a Wishing Tree. For centuries, people have written down their secret desires and placed them inside the trunk.’
‘Where?’ someone asked.
Sam pointed to one of the gaping wounds in the trunk. ‘Right there.’
‘So you just stick a bit of paper in the tree. Then what?’ said the boy who had caught Sam’s attention earlier.
‘Manners, Matthew,’ Miss Jenkins scolded.
‘And then what, Mr McIntyre?’ he repeated, sounding even less interested in the answer than he had the first time he’d asked.
‘And then,’ Sam said before clearing his throat, stepping back, and opening up his arms. He tilted back his head. ‘You close your eyes and listen.’
‘To what?’ whispered one of the girls closest to him.
Matthew blew a raspberry and the whole group convulsed with laughter, even the teachers. Sam wasn’t sure how he kept his face straight but it helped that he still had his eyes closed and his face lifted towards the gargantuan spider’s web of branches. ‘You listen for the answer!’ he said, loud enough to shock the children into silence. ‘Listen to the tree’s creaks and groans and it will tell you if it’s going to grant your wish.’
‘Let’s do it,’ someone said and they all began scribbling on their clipboards. A few children compared notes and a couple of boys broke out into an argument, but after a few minutes they all held their wishes in their hands.
‘We can’t reach the hole,’ one of the boys said and they all looked at the railings that formed an impassable barrier.
‘I can,’ Matthew announced and before anyone could stop him, he had scrunched his note up into a ball and threw it with perfect aim into the hollow. A dozen or more paper balls rained down in quick succession, some hitting their mark while others littered the ground among the haze of bluebells surrounding the base of the tree.
Sam sighed as he looked over towards Miss Jenkins. ‘That’s why I’m not supposed to tell anyone,’ he explained.
The teacher held his gaze a little longer than was absolutely necessary. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.’
Sam smiled and shrugged off the comment. ‘It’s all right, the boss will be happy that I’ve added litter picking to my long list of duties, because I do everything else.’
‘Shush,’ one of the girls said in a loud whisper. ‘We haven’t listened for our answers yet.’
Matthew and a few of the boys grumbled amongst themselves but eventually they all raised their heads to listen to the tree. It was only then Sam noticed that the girl with blonde hair had slunk back into the shadows of her own making. She was the only child who didn’t lift her head.
‘Didn’t you want to make a wish, Jasmine?’ Miss Jenkins asked when she noticed too.
Jasmine shook her head. ‘My dad says I’m too old to believe in wishes now.’
The little girl wouldn’t be persuaded and so Sam wrapped things up by thanking the children for being so well behaved and encouraging them to come back to the park. He challenged them to give their families the same tour and to see how much they could remember. It was fast approaching lunchtime and the next stop for the children was a picnic, so they all began trooping off in the direction of the walled gardens. Miss Jenkins kept one eye on her class and the other on Sam.
‘I’d better go,’ she said without moving. ‘But if you’re still around later, I wouldn’t mind a quick catch up. I’d love to see the sketches you said you’ve been working on, if that’s all right?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ he said, although he wasn’t in the least bit sure.
‘Good. Once I’ve loaded the kids back on the coach, I’ll come and hunt you down.’
The teacher’s words left him feeling slightly uneasy. He had left Edinburgh almost four years ago to make a fresh start, to begin a life that was a drastic deviation from the one he had once mapped out. He still hadn’t worked out what his new life should comprise of and his only ambition, which was a vague one at that, was not to give into the overwhelming desire to keep running away from everything – and that included very attractive young women.
Once the children and teachers were out of sight, Sam looked at the mess they had left. There was a padlocked gate to access the enclosure but he never carried the key so resorted to using a low-lying branch as leverage to climb over the railings. Before picking up the litter he stopped to rest his palm on the Wishing Tree, as if by doing so he would feel its pulse. Its bark felt warm, and as his skin melded into the wooded knots he imagined that the tree was attempting to ground him too. With his hand still pressed against the wood, he took a moment to look around, peering through the fir trees that crowded around the oak to catch glimpses of visitors
