Opportunity by Charlotte Grimshaw

and Tshirt,
waiting for Tom in the car park while the big cars purred
and throbbed by. Once I saw him and Tom having a sword
fight with long grass stalks, laughing, falling down.
    'I don't like him,' Karen said. She made a spiteful face.
    Tom started coming to our house after school. Afterwards
Dan picked him up and he always stopped to talk. He repeated
that he wanted Charles and Tom to be best friends; it was a
kind of refrain with him, but he made it clear he was glad for
his own reasons. He said how lucky it was that we'd got
together, two people who were interested in the same things.
He said we had the same ideas about bringing up children.
Too many people didn't really think about it, he said, and that
amounted to negligence. They spoiled their kids and let them
behave like slobs. He and I were going to have a really terrific
pair of boys, because we thought about things and knew what
mattered. He talked as if he and I had a secret pact, and the
rest of the world could do what it liked.
    He was observant. He imitated the teachers: their walks,
the way they talked. He made me laugh. He said things that
I'd thought myself, privately, but hadn't had anyone to tell. I
began inviting Tom over myself, without asking Charles
whether he wanted me to.
    Dan didn't approve of the boys watching TV. He liked them
to have healthy outdoor activity. He was very serious about
that. He said that Charles had such a good physique, it would
be criminal to let him sit around. We had a rope swing that
went right over the bank at the back of our garden and Dan
went down with me and the boys to have a look at it. We were
talking, and the next moment he leapt onto the swing. I
watched him flying through the air, his shirt riding up, his
legs kicking. He was a big, strong man, but sometimes he used
his body as if he was still a boy.
    Dan invited Charles to their place, but Charles told me he
wouldn't go.
    'Why?' I demanded.
    Charles scowled and wouldn't say. I went on at him.
    He said, 'It's too small and you have to be quiet because of
the tenants and he hasn't got anything to play with.'
    'You're a spoiled middle-class brat,' I told him. I kept
    inviting Tom to our place instead. I liked to think he enjoyed our big house
    and the pool. And I looked forward to talking to Dan.
    ***
    Every week at soccer Dan watched Charles and praised his
skill. He paid more attention to him than to Tom, who wasn't
so sporty. 'Charles is a real athlete,' he said, following him with
his eyes. Each time he said nice things about Charles I had
the impression that he was really saying something about me.
But there was a shy side to him, and so he communicated in
this sideways way, through Charles. Once, after he'd watched
Charles for a long time, he said to me, 'I think Charles takes
after you, not Max.' I smiled and looked at the ground.
    One day Dan told me he'd had to move house. He said the
flat wasn't a suitable environment for a child. He'd rented a
villa with a garden. I felt sorry for him. He was so keen to do
the right thing for Tom, and it couldn't be easy when he was
short of money. A few weeks later he told me they'd moved
again. The house hadn't worked out. This time he was going to
try a flat in the inner city. I didn't think that sounded very nice
for Tom, but I didn't say anything. I was a bit surprised when
I discovered they'd moved yet again. It became quite a pattern.
I can't remember how many times Dan came up with a new
address, a new phone number. Tom seemed resigned to
packing up and moving on, and I thought Dan must be one of
those restless people who's always thinking somewhere else
will be better, more interesting.
    Dan wanted to have a sleepover at his place for the boys.
He said he would pitch a tent in the garden. The boys would
love it. I was a bit embarrassed, because every time I put this
to Charles he refused, and I had to keep making excuses. Dan
wasn't put off. He kept raising the subject. I didn't like to think
Charles was too