The Blue Fish

Marcus worked at the community centre, where on the first Saturday of every month he ran a craft workshop for children. The children had been looking forward to it all week. This time six of them were gathered around a long table strewn with paper, glue and paint, fidgeting with the impatience of people who have been promised a mess.

“What can you do?” Marcus asked, to break the ice. “I can paint,” Lila said, with great confidence. “I can cut paper,” Tom announced. “I can draw cats,” Mia added, a little shyly. Marcus noted their names and talents on a whiteboard, so that nobody would feel left out.

“Can you sing?” he asked next, half as a joke. The children howled with laughter. “Yes, we can!” they shouted and, to his surprise, launched into a short song, never pausing in their work and getting paint on their sleeves.

Only one small boy, Sam, had said nothing all morning. Marcus knelt beside him and lowered his voice. “Can you help me? Can you hold the glue?” “Yes, I can!” said Sam, his face lighting up. From then on he held the glue for everybody, utterly serious about his task.

By noon the table was covered in cats, birds and houses. Marcus took a brush and added a large blue fish in the middle, which was greeted with a roar of approval. “Marcus can paint too!” Lila cried, and the whole room dissolved into laughter. It was, everyone agreed, the best workshop so far.