BUTTERCUPS
© Suzanne Bosworth
Published by Woman

“Mu--um. Can I have a bike like Sam’s for my birthday?”
“Can you see heaps of money lying around here? Because I can’t.”
“But everyone’s got one at school.”
“What, even the head teacher?”
Danny glared. “They have. And Sam’s getting a new TV for his bedroom.”
Jilly felt like stuffing Sam Jennings’ parents up a drainpipe. Sam had everything and he was only eleven. New this, new that, new the other. It was OK for Sam. His father hadn’t been made redundant and wasn’t scratching around for jobs. His parents weren’t up to their eyebrows in mortgage arrears and worrying about the bills.
“How about a second hand one?” she said.
“Aww mum, that’s naff!”
“Call it recycling then. Ha ha.”
He glared again and stomped off upstairs. “Everyone gets new stuff except me. Everyone!” The bedroom door slammed shut.
“Danny is upstairs feeling deprived,” she said to Liam when he came home from shifting crates all day. “He wants a bike like Sam’s but we can’t afford it.”
Liam sighed. “Well we’ll just have to afford one, then,” he said. “I’m not having him going without.”
There was no use saying anything right now. It would only end in a row. But then there was also no use ignoring their bank balance either. Something had to shift.
On Tuesday Jilly rang the school and arranged to see Danny’s teacher.
“I’m glad you came,” said Mrs Flowers when Jilly arrived. “And you’re not the first to mention this.
Jilly’s jaw dropped in surprise.
“Lots of parents are wondering how on earth they’re going to afford all the latest things the children want these days,” said Mrs Flowers. “Coffee?”
People like Mrs Flowers, thought Jilly as she walked home, were like buttercups on a bleak day. They couldn’t make clouds disappear but they made things seem so much brighter. Mrs Flowers in name, Mrs Buttercup by nature.
She’d have to talk to Liam that evening but she wasn’t hopeful, despite Mrs Flowers’ optimism.

Liam banged his coffee mug down on the table.  “I said we’d manage! I can’t bear to think of Danny feeling left out. If everyone else has the best then Danny must, too.”
Liam’s face had that same look of hurt and incomprehension he’d had when he read the redundancy letter. She saw how he turned away and shut her out, how he sat forward, head in his hands.
Jilly thought of Mrs Flowers that afternoon. How she’d listened, how she’d handled Jilly’s sudden flood of tears. And how she’d made everything seem all right. Not perfect. Just manageable.
“I know you care about me and Danny,” said Jilly. “That’s partly why I love you so much.” Then she struck out into uncharted waters. “I promise I won’t get upset or argue. I just need to understand why.”
Liam had drawn breath to counter the overtures of a row, but finding none he let it out. “Understand what?”
“Tell me why Danny has to have the best. I need to understand.”
“He just does, that’s all.”
But after a while it was Liam who turned down the TV and told Danny he couldn’t – and needn’t – have everything he asked for to be Sam’s friend.

Liam was dishing up their tea the next evening.
“Da—ad”.
If Danny mentioned Sam’s wretched bike again Jilly was going to throw things. Either that or spray graffiti over the Jennings’ new white Golf GTi.

“Mrs Flowers showed us how to have a debate in class today,” said Danny. “About money.”
“No doubt Sam brought some he’d made earlier,” Jill said tightly. “So what did you all say?”
“Well it was a balloon debate. You pretend you’re in a balloon with other people and it’s running out of air. You have to tell the class why you deserve to stay in the balloon and not be thrown out.”
Danny paused to take a sip of his juice.
“I was in it with Sam, Jasmin and Louise. Two of us were being people with lots of money and two of us were being people with no money. Sam was being his dad and he was first to get thrown out of the balloon by our class because he was so rude about everyone who didn’t have as much money.”
Danny cut a sausage vigorously and shoved a piece in his mouth. Jilly had to bend down just then to scratch her foot and hide a grin. So, clever Mrs Buttercup had come up trumps.
“I was being that tramp down by the railway station, Dad” said Danny, “and I said how hard it was being poor and I got to stay longest in the balloon and so I won. Mrs Flowers said I was great.”
There was a look of shy pride on Danny’s face.
Liam gazed at him. “Danny, that’s brilliant. Did you hear that, Jilly?” and Jilly hugged her son so tightly he could hardly breathe.
“Awww mum!” He blushed pink and shoved more sausage in his mouth.
“Oh, and you know that new bike I was telling you about?” said Danny. “Like Sam has? Well I don’t want one now because people might think I’m trying to be like him.”
He eyed his parents cautiously.
“But Billy’s selling his old one …”