by Ivy Pembroke
“No, they want to meet all of us.”
“They must have heard that being your friend earns you a remarkable amount of free food.”
Diya seemed caught between fondness and exasperation. She said, “Oh, and I gave away some of your trousers today,” as she walked out of the kitchen down the hall.
Darsh heard her calling for the children, and then said as she came back into the kitchen, “My trousers?”
“Mayra had a friend who really needed some trousers, and you had extra.” Diya shrugged.
Darsh, after a moment, shrugged as well, because it was no good trying to make sense of Diya’s decisions on these things. He said, “I’m surprised you didn’t give them away to the new neighbors.”
“He’s taller than you,” Diya said, smiling. “He would have looked ridiculous. Sai! Pari!” she shouted.
Darsh winced.
“Go and threaten them,” Diya said, organizing the food on the table. “I’m not walking over to the stairs again.”
But before Darsh could stand, the thunder of their children coming down the stairs for dinner began.
Darsh said, “So are we going to this barbecue?”
“I don’t really want to,” said Diya, “because you know how busy I am, and the day of the barbecue I already have two other parties I’m supposed to be going to.”
“Of course you do,” said Darsh.
“But I have to go to make up for Pari’s rudeness.”
Pari had just walked into the kitchen, just in time for Diya to look at her meaningfully. Pari drew up short, looked at her mother, and then frowned and crossed her arms, ready to do battle.
Sai, behind Pari, took in her stance and said, “Maybe I should go back upstairs.”
“Nonsense,” said Darsh. “Come in and sit. You, too, Pari. And tell me what you were so rude about.”
“I wasn’t rude,” said Pari sulkily, as she sat at the table.
“She shouted that they were ‘weird.’ While they were standing right at our door,” said Diya, also sitting.
“He started it,” said Pari.
“Who’s ‘he’?” asked Darsh.
“The new boy. He’s trying to steal Jack.”
“Jack the street dog?” said Darsh.
“Yes.”
“How’s he going to steal a street dog?”
“I was going to make Jack my dog,” said Pari.
“Ah, so you were going to steal the street dog first.”
Pari paused. “No,” she said, and then seemed unsure what to say next.
Diya said, “Nobody is stealing any dogs. I don’t like dogs, and that dog is very poorly behaved, and anyway, the dog seems to like the new neighbors and they like the dog, so let them have each other, I say.”
“But, Mum,” whined Pari. “We need the dog.”
“We definitely do not need a dog,” said Diya.
“We need the dog so that Sai can have a patient.”
Sai started choking on his food.
Darsh glanced at him. “A patient for what?”
“Sai is going to be a vet,” said Pari.
“Oh, splendid!” exclaimed Darsh. “Sai, that is just a brilliant choice! Veterinarian! Excellent career!”
Sai, recovered, took a sip of water and said, “I’ve been learning all about baby chimpanzees.”
Darsh said, “So you’re thinking of taking care of exotic animals? Working in a zoo, I suppose?”
“No,” Pari said. “He might want to take care of dogs, too. That’s why we need Jack.”
“Diya, don’t you know someone who’s a veterinarian? Isn’t Anika’s cousin—”
“Yes! That’s right! I’ll see if I can talk to her about talking to her cousin about letting you work in the office a couple of days a week.”
“Oh,” said Sai. “Oh. Right. Okay.”
Diya beamed at Sai and then at Pari, the earlier disagreement clearly forgotten. Diya was like that: naturally sunny, tending toward rosy thoughts. She looked at Darsh and said, “Don’t we have beautiful children?”
The children looked like Diya. So Darsh took her hand and kissed her knuckles and said, “Yes.”
Pen, settled in bed with the latest herbal concoction next to her, called up her blog.
Shocking new development on the street, she typed. New Neighbors have decided to be friendly? And socialize? They are having a party. It’s odd and I’m sure the rest of the neighbors are, like me, wondering how much small talk we shall have to make with each other now. But I remain excited. Opportunities to get to know the people on one’s street are always exciting, and I have many questions to ask about the romance between Polish Teenager and Indian Teenager as well as exactly what it is Blond Gay Man does all day whilst Dark-Haired Gay Man is away at work. Perhaps he’s a writer, too, and we can sit at home and procrastinate writing together!
Most important update: Jack helped to deliver the invitation. Looking forward to discussing the formal street status of Jack at the “backyard bar-b-q” as well. I do wonder what sort of healthy food options will be there. The invitation contains an illustration of a smiling frankfurter, so I’m not holding out too much hope, alas.
Chapter 4
Hot dogs
Hamburgers
Buns
Other delicious foods that people will eat??????
Weekends on the street were odd, because Sam realized he’d already grown rather used to the rhythm of the street, to everyone going off to work. On the weekends most people stayed home and went out at disparate times in pursuit of various errands. The blond man—Max—came outside and cut some roses. Sam wondered if he ought to ask him for advice on taking care of the roses in his own front garden. The Indian mother came and went constantly, always laden down with stuff when she left and arms empty when she returned. Jack trotted up and down the street, wandering in and out of gardens. The black woman at the end of the street went for a run. The old man stayed shuttered up inside. The teenage girl next door, who must be the source of the drums, played every so often. Sam never saw her parents, but he presumed she had some.
And Ellen arrived with Sophie and Evie.
“Hello, Uncle Sam!” chorused the girls, descending upon the house in a whirlwind of energy.
“The house looks great.”
“You could use a little design help.”
“Really, you haven’t put a single thing up on the walls?”
“Everything in this house is beige; you could use a pop of color.”
“Don’t worry, we’re here to help!”
“Just call us your brilliant interior decorators!”
“We even brought new cushions!”
Sam, bewildered by this onslaught, managed to say, “Oh, lovely,” before the girls went dashing away, presumably to decorate.
“They are very excited to help you be less hopeless,” Ellen informed Sam.
“Less hopeless?” echoed Sam, accepting Ellen’s hug of greeting. “Setting the bar awfully high, aren’t you?”
“Where’s my favorite nephew?” asked Ellen.
“Upstairs.” Sam leaned back and shouted for him. “Teddy! Your Aunt Ellen and the girls are here!”
“I know!” Teddy shouted back. “I’ll be down after I die!” Sam looked at Ellen. “He’s playing video games—he’s not being that melodramatic.”
“Good,” said Ellen.
Sophie stuck her head out of the lounge. “Uncle Sam, what do you think about stripes on the walls?”
Sam blinked. “Did you bring paint?”
“No, but we brought samples, and stripes seem like a good idea.”
“Okay,” Sam said vaguely, because he’d never thought about stripes on his wall before.
“Aces,” said Sophie, and disappeared back into the lounge.
Sam lifted his eyebrows at Ellen. “They paint?”
“Let’s have a cuppa,” suggested Ellen.
“Can we put something in the cuppa?” asked Sam, following Ellen into the k
itchen.
Ellen laughed. “Something other than tea? That depends on the state of your drinks cabinet.”
“It’s dismal,” said Sam. “I probably must rectify that before the party, hmm?”
“That depends,” said Ellen, setting two mugs out on the counter. “Exactly how boring are you hoping this party is?”
“Ha ha,” said Sam. “Not boring at all. Just not wild. I want to be in between. In the middle of the spectrum.”
“Average. Exactly where most people aim.”
“Less hopeless,” Sam reminded her.
Which made Ellen laugh again. “You seem better,” she said.
“You’re funnier.”
“Was I bad before?” asked Sam, surprised.
Ellen gave him a soft smile. “Not bad. Just overwhelmed, I think.”
“You try moving yourself across an ocean. It isn’t easy when you’re no longer eighteen with all of your belongings fitting into a backpack.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t justified, Sam. No defensiveness necessary.” Ellen poured out the tea.
“Sorry,” said Sam. “This is why I need to be around people more, possibly.”
“Possibly,” said Ellen, handing him his tea and then turning back and snagging a piece of paper off the fridge. “What’s this? ‘Hot dogs, hamburgers, buns, other delicious foods that people will eat’?”
“Shopping list,” Sam said, because he thought that was obvious.
“For your party? This is your shopping list for your party?”
“Yes?” Sam offered, blowing at his tea.
“Not very specific, is it?”
“I’m hoping inspiration strikes me in the supermarket.”
“You need a proper list. With proper ingredients. To make proper food.”
“Proper food?” Sam repeated. “I don’t cook.”
“How do you and Teddy eat?”
“Very, very poorly,” said Sam.
“Samuel,” Ellen said.
“You can call me by my full name all you like, it isn’t going to make me any more of a bona fide, functioning adult.”
“Uncle Sam?” shouted Evie from the lounge. “What about zebra print for an accent wall?”
“Do these girls know anything about design?” Sam asked Ellen.
“Do you know anything about design?” Ellen countered. No. He didn’t. “Sure!” he called back, mentally shrugging.
“You need to know how to cook. Women love men who can cook. The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.”
“I thought that saying was about men.”
“Don’t be sexist,” said Ellen. “Anyway, if you’re going to invite people over, you should make them proper food. Be impressive. Don’t you want them to be impressed with you?”
Well. Sam supposed that the alternative was that they think he was pathetic, and he had moved back home partly to get out from under being labeled pathetic. He said slowly, “Yes.”
“Good.” Ellen beamed. “Then it’s settled. You’ll make something impressive, and it will help you make friends.”
“On the false pretense that I can actually cook.”
“If you really do cook it, it won’t be a false pretense. What’s this?”
Because Jack the dog had appeared at the back door, tail wagging.
“Ah,” said Sam. “Watch this. Teddy! Jack’s here to play!”
That got an immediate response roughly equivalent to a herd of elephants descending from the upper floor.
Teddy went racing through the house, shouting, “Hi, Sophie! Hi, Evie! Hi, Aunt Ellen!” and then, “Bye, Dad!” and barreled his way outside.
Ellen raised an eyebrow at Sam. “Teddy has a dog now?”
“Teddy definitely does not have a dog. As we have already established during this conversation, I can barely take care of the things it is already my responsibility to take care of, never mind adding a dog to the list.”
“Then who is Jack?” Ellen asked, pointing to the back garden, where Teddy was visible getting an extremely enthusiastic greeting from Jack, including lots of licking and an entire wriggling back end.
“Jack is the street dog. We have a dog who wanders the street. Isn’t that charming?”
“You don’t sound as if you think that’s charming,” Ellen pointed out.
“I think it’s rather odd, frankly, that I have somehow managed to inherit a part-time dog. But Jack is the only thing Teddy likes about this place, so I suppose I am eternally grateful to him.”
“It’s good, then,” Ellen said, sipping her tea and watching Teddy play with Jack. They were chasing each other around the back garden. “Women like dogs, too, you know.”
“I’m going to start pestering you about your love life,” Sam said. “Dated many people since the divorce?”
“No,” said Ellen. “I was thinking of trying Internet dating. Want to try it with me?”
“No. That sounds, in fact, like the absolute last thing I want to try in the world.”
Evie and Sophie appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Uncle Sam,” Evie said. “We have a great idea.”
“We are thinking”—Sophie spread her arms, the better to visualize—“spikes from the ceiling.”
“Like a cave,” added Evie, eyes sparkling.
Sam looked at Ellen. “I take it back. That sounds like the absolute last thing I want to try in the world.”
* * *
Ellen had said that Sam would feel better when he got settled, and he was surprised to realize that was mostly true. Work was actually a welcome distraction, he had ready access to most of his important belongings, and he and Teddy were slowly developing a routine. He remembered, when Teddy had been a baby, getting lectures from Sara on the importance of having a routine, and Sam had believed it blindly, but now he believed it fervently, because yes, the routine helped.
And the fact that the rest of the street also had a routine to it definitely helped. Sam didn’t really know any of their names yet, but he recognized his neighbors by sight, and he was actually hopeful that the barbecue would be a success and he might make friends. Many of the neighbors seemed, like him, to be home during the day, and it would be nice to be friendly with them. And, of course, Teddy would be friends with the little Indian girl. Sure, they seemed to loathe each other now, but they would realize neither was trying to steal Jack from the other and then they could be best friends. Forget about this being an adventure, thought Sam. Maybe it could be a fairy tale with a happily-ever-after at the end.
Sam tried to come up with interesting daily adventures, hampered by the fact that, well, the usual adult life wasn’t terribly adventurous and that was actually what made it good, in Sam’s opinion. Teddy’s adventures continued to revolve around Jack, to whom he was teaching tricks, and the fact that Teddy was confident that Jack liked him better than he liked Pari.
“It’s not a contest,” Sam said, which Teddy didn’t seem to hear at all.
Sam got RSVPs from everyone on the street except Mr. Hammersley. Sam supposed Mr. Hammersley had given his RSVP when he had dropped off the invitation. Other than Mr. Hammersley, though, everyone else was coming.
And Sam hated the fact that he found himself thinking, I should make something impressive for this barbecue.
Ugh, bloody Ellen putting this bloody idea in his head. Sam, unable to sleep, pulled his phone over and Googled impressive barbecue foods.
The first result suggested he roast a whole pig.
“Nope,” he said out loud to his phone, and scrolled past.
And then considered: Brussels sprouts or aubergine? And what the hell was burrata?
* * *
The day was overcast, and Teddy was bored. Everything in England was boring. He sat at the front window and looked out of it and watched the lady from down the street go jogging past. What was her name? Pencil, or something. Whatever. She saw him in the window and waved cheerfully. Teddy sighed and waved back so as not to be rude.
&nb
sp; Then he went in search of Dad.
Who was working, clicking away on the computer he’d set up in his office.
“What’s up?” he asked distractedly when Teddy entered.
“I’m bored.”
Dad lifted an eyebrow at him. “Bored? You have all day to do nothing but play. You can’t be bored. What about all of your video games?”
“They’re boring.”
“Glad I spent all that money buying them for you, then.”
Dad was always missing the point. Teddy frowned at him.
“Why don’t you go introduce yourself to the girl next door?”
“I don’t like her.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I feel like I don’t like her.”
Dad sighed, as if Teddy was being difficult. And then he said, “What about the dog? You could play with the dog.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Teddy said mournfully, because usually Jack wandered by at some point during the day. “I think the girl stole him.”
“The girl didn’t steal him,” said Dad, who for some unknown reason was convinced the girl wasn’t going to steal Jack when she was totally going to steal Jack. “He’s probably at Mr. Hammersley’s house.”
“Can I go to Mr. Hammersley’s house?” asked Teddy, because maybe that would be something interesting to do.
Dad sighed, again, like Teddy was being difficult. He said, “I guess. Don’t pester him too much.”
Teddy jumped up and raced out of the room. “Bye, Dad!”
“And see if you can get him to come to the barbecue!” Dad called after him.
* * *
There was a knock on the door.
Bill looked up from where he had been just about to pour himself a cup of tea and frowned. Jack, who had been curled up on the floor, went running to the door, barking joyously.
Bill muttered under his breath. Because, really, he’d never had so many people knocking on his door. He didn’t want to talk to any of these people. Couldn’t they just leave him alone?
Jack leaped about, tapping at the doorknob with his paw as if wishing he could open it.
“There’s no need to be that excited about people,” Bill told him disapprovingly.
