by Ivy Pembroke
Sam didn’t know what to make of that conversation, either, so he decided instead to say, “Anyone want any biscuits? Or Jaffa Cakes? Or vegan brownies?”
Marcel said, “So, Sam. You’ve just moved in.”
“Yes,” affirmed Sam. “Thought I’d have everybody over to say hi.”
“It’s just you?” asked Marcel.
“My son and me. Teddy. He’s in the other room.”
As if to prove his existence, Teddy’s voice in the lounge shouted, “No, no, that is not how you roll over, Pari!”
“He feels very strongly about rolling over,” said Sam.
Marcel said, far too innocently, “No wife?”
Sam paused and looked at him and felt his hackles rise a bit. Because, really, it was fairly rude to come into someone’s house and start quizzing them on their personal situation. He glanced to Arthur and Max and said, “How do you know I don’t have a husband?”
Everyone looked at him.
Sam confessed, “I don’t have a husband. And I had a wife, but she died.”
Which led to another awkward pause.
So Sam said, “Tell us, Pen, what made you decide to become vegan?”
Everyone seemed more than willing to let him change the subject.
Pen said, “Oh, I looked into it for an article I was writing. And once I looked into it, I never went back. Writing is like that. I did a piece on bumblebees and I had to go and replant my garden with bumblebee-friendly flowers. The plight of the bumblebee is intense and worrying. Did you know it takes two million flowers to make a single pound of honey? It is environmentally vital that we help the bumblebees out.”
Everyone seemed impressed with Pen’s level of passion.
Max said, “You must learn a lot of random facts in your line of work.”
Pen said, “You have no idea. The last article I wrote was about the evolution of the penis. You lot are weird.”
* * *
The Basaks were the first to leave. Diya had somewhere to be; it sounded very complicated. They thanked Sam for the party and refused to take any of their pakoras home with them. They did take Pari home with them, which Sam was a little relieved about. Teddy sat with Jack on the floor of the lounge and looked triumphant, but Sam couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for the little girl who loved the dog, too, but whose mother really hated him.
The Pachutas left directly after the Basaks, and Sam tried to pretend they didn’t look relieved to be getting out of there.
Max was engaged in a deep conversation with Pen about the evolution of the penis. He kept exclaiming, “Really? Fascinating!” And “Darling, did you know that?” Arthur was nowhere near him, instead putting dishes away in Sam’s kitchen, but he kept calling back to him, “Hmm, very interesting.”
“Don’t you want to go over there and hear about how your penis evolved?” Sam asked him, as he joined him in the kitchen.
“I do not,” said Arthur. “As long as it works, I don’t want to know anything more about it. What can I help you put away here?”
Sam smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for having us. It was very nice of you to do.”
“I get the impression this was an unusual amount of socializing for this street.”
“We kind of keep to ourselves,” Arthur admitted. “I mean, we’re friendly, and polite, and nice. But yeah. My husband feeds Jack, too. Just so you know. I’m fairly sure that dog eats at every house.”
“Dogs are the most skillful con artists,” said Sam.
Arthur smiled and glanced outside and then said, “Max, there’s a brief break in the rain. I think we should make a run for it.”
“If you think so,” said Max, standing and saying to Pen, “This was fascinating and you should feel free to stop by anytime and distract me from painting.”
Sam liked this. He thought maybe he’d done at least a little bit of good with this party.
“This is going to be dangerous,” Pen said, “because I am always looking for something to distract me from writing.”
“You can join us in the procrastinating work situation, Sam,” Max said, shaking his hand as he prepared to leave.
“I can just send an eight-year-old boy over your way,” said Sam. “He’s a pretty effective distracting machine.”
“I’ll take off, too. Thank you for this lovely party.” Pen gave Sam a warm hug. “We should talk more often. After all, we all have a mutual interest in Jack the street dog.”
“Yeah,” said Sam, and saw them off, and then turned back to Teddy and Jack. “Well?” he said. “What did you think? Success?” Jack barked and wagged his tail. Sam interpreted this as Yes! Success!
“Could have been better,” Teddy said. “Could have been worse.”
“Can’t actually argue with that,” said Sam. “But I prefer Jack’s take. Jack thought it went well.”
“Jack thought there should have been more squirrels for him to chase. Do you feel like you made any friends?”
Sam thought of the last interaction between him and Max and Arthur and Pen and said, “Maybe. Possibly. What about you?”
Teddy gave him a look.
“Sai seemed nice,” Sam said.
“He’s sixteen, Dad.”
That was a fair point. Sam said, “What about Pari?”
“Pari kept telling me she’s ‘at war’ with me.”
Sam sighed. “I think it’s hard for Pari. Her mother doesn’t like Jack very much, and Jack was mostly hers before we showed up.”
“She’s trying to steal him. I think he should be everyone’s.”
The Pari situation might be an irreconcilable issue, thought Sam. “Well, at least school is starting soon. You’ll make friends there.”
Teddy looked dubious.
Sam left him to his dubiousness. And, because he was determined to stay hopeful about things, Sam, feeling beneficent, decided to take some food over to Mr. Hammersley and tell him how much he’d been missed. Maybe Pen was right and he was lonely.
So Sam made up a plate and then said, “Come on, Jack.” Jack had been snoring loudly by Teddy but he got up immediately upon hearing his name, stretching extravagantly and snuffling.
Teddy said, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to bring Mr. Hammersley a plate of food, and Jack.”
“Dad,” Teddy began to complain.
“We’ve had him all day,” Sam said, heading off the protest. “And he’s not actually our dog. He’s the street dog. He’ll miss Mr. Hammersley and Mr. Hammersley will miss him.”
“Fine,” grumbled Teddy.
“Come along,” Sam said to Jack, and Jack obediently followed him out and over to Mr. Hammersley’s house. The rain had let up. It wasn’t exactly nice out but it seemed less farfetched that there would be sun soon.
Sam rang Mr. Hammersley’s doorbell and waited for him to open the door.
Which he did with a snapped out, “Now what?”
It wasn’t exactly that Sam had expected a warm welcome, but, well, he’d really done nothing to merit outright rudeness.
Sam forced his face into bland pleasantness and said politely, “Hello. We missed you at the party.”
“I didn’t want to go to your party,” replied Mr. Hammersley belligerently.
Which made it difficult to continue to be blandly pleasant, but Sam gritted his teeth and took a deep breath and then forced another smile. “Well, I’ve brought Jack back to you—”
“You don’t need to keep bringing Jack back,” Mr. Hammersley said. “He’s not my dog.”
Even though Jack had trotted into Mr. Hammersley’s house and disappeared.
“No, I understand, he’s the street dog. Belongs to everyone,” said Sam.
“I don’t want Jack to become my problem,” Mr. Hammersley grumbled.
“He’s not a problem,” Sam said patiently. “He’s a dog. Anyway, I brought you a plate of food—”
“I
don’t want any of your rubbish food,” snapped Mr. Hammersley.
Which turned out to be Sam’s tipping point. Because maybe the food was rubbish, but he was just trying to be nice, and he’d spent all day trying to make friends, and he was exhausted with the effort, and Mr. Hammersley not meeting him halfway was the last straw.
“You know,” said Sam, taking a deep breath. “I’m just trying to be nice. I have tried to be nice ever since I got here. I am trying to be nice, and hopeful, and not worry that uprooting my son to move an ocean away was the worst mistake I ever made. And you are being rude and making it very difficult for me to pretend like this is a good place for us to be living.”
Mr. Hammersley stared at him in shock.
Sam, feeling satisfied, turned and marched away.
* * *
Pari was crying on her bed when Diya finally got home from her commitments.
“Where have you been?” Darsh hissed when she got in.
Diya was confused. “I told you, I had to go to Shanaya’s, and then Saanvi had a niece who really needed help setting up a nursery, and then I had to stop at Anika’s to check about the veterinarian thing for Sai—”
“Pari is heartbroken over the dog thing.”
Diya sighed. “Still? You know we can’t have a dog. I hate dogs. And, anyway, it seems to me that street dog belongs to either the new people or the old man. It spends most of its time with one of them.”
“I agree with all of that,” Darsh said. “But our daughter is still upstairs brokenhearted.”
“And what have you said to her?”
“That you’d talk to her when you got home,” said Darsh hopefully.
Diya sighed and went upstairs to deal with Pari.
Who hiccuped when she saw her and said, “But it’s horrible. That horrid boy is going to steal Jack and I’ll never see him again.” Pari buried her face into Diya’s chest, sobbing.
“Surely not. I’m sure he’ll let you see Jack.” Diya smoothed down Pari’s hair and felt terrible about the fact that she just didn’t like dogs. “We can’t have a dog, but what if I let you go and spend the day with Sai at the veterinarian’s? Would you like that?”
Pari stopped crying. She looked up, her face tearstained and blotchy. “Could I do that?”
“Would you like to?”
Pari nodded.
Diya said, “Then I’ll ask Anika to ask her cousin about it.”
* * *
Mum and Dad were having a row, about the party, the new neighbor, the trip to the seaside, money, work.
Emilia put her headphones on and sat at her drums and played.
She played until she couldn’t hear them arguing anymore. She played until her brain focused away from them.
Unfortunately, it didn’t focus on the drums. It focused on Sai, shadowing a vet. Which was fantastic for him, if that was what Sai wanted, but it was what Emilia worried about: that Sai would wake up to life outside the street, to all the girls he could have who were prettier than Emilia, cleverer than Emilia.
That Sai would leave, too, and then it would just be Emilia, and a drum set, and her parents, arguing endlessly.
Emilia crashed her sticks against her cymbals and let the vibration carry through her body. She closed her eyes and imagined she could ride the vibrations directly out into the sky.
* * *
They got ready for bed in silence, which wasn’t unusual for them. They were used to each other, and there wasn’t always much to say by this point in the evening.
Max looked across at Arthur, who was brushing his teeth, and then said, finally breaking the silence, “Dreadful weather we’re having.”
Arthur spat into the sink and grinned and said, “But I hear we’re supposed to get sun in a few days’ time.”
Max laughed and said, “It was an odd party, wasn’t it? But I learned a lot about penis evolution.”
“I don’t want to know anything about that. It’s weird that that was a topic of conversation at the party.”
“Better than the bloody weather again, Christ,” said Max.
“I’m glad we went, for the neighbors’ sake, but it was painful in many places.”
“It confirmed that, of all people on the street, I’m glad you’re the one I live with.”
“High praise, indeed,” said Arthur.
Pen got into bed and pulled her laptop onto her lap and opened up her blog.
Well! she wrote. First street party out of the way! It rained buckets, of course, and we all had to huddle inside. Much has been learned about the neighbors. There was mild drama in that Indian Family and Polish Family tried to each prove they’re better at raising children. Polish Couple seems uncomfortable with each other. Not sure what’s happening there. Indian Little Girl and New Neighbor Boy are fighting over Jack the street dog. No one seems to know Indian Teenager and Polish Teenager are dating. They pretended not to know each other. It was frankly hilarious and I enjoyed it. Found out Blond Gay Man is an artist. Definitely plan to bother him at least daily, as have been encouraged to procrastinate with him. Old Man did not come to the party, but Jack did. He was his usual charming self, except that Indian Woman doesn’t like him. Poor Jack. I noticed that New Neighbor Boy slid him some crisps. I must explain to New Neighbor Boy that I have Jack on a strict all-natural diet.
Bill lay awake in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t especially tired, but there was nothing on the telly and there was nothing else to do.
Which meant that he had nothing to do but contemplate how silent the house was around him. How silent the room was around him. He missed the time when there had been another person in the bed, breathing with him. He missed the time when the parties that happened on the street were ones attended by people he knew, and people who knew him, and not people who saw him as the old man who needed to be brought pity food at the end.
Jack didn’t usually sleep on the bed, but Bill didn’t argue when he suddenly came into the room, claws clacking on the wood, and leaped up beside Bill. He curled up next to him, warm and solid.
Bill put a hand on Jack’s back and said, “Hello, Jack.”
Jack did nothing, but Jack breathed, and that was enough.
* * *
It took Sam what felt like hours to right his house after the disruption of the party. He had just collapsed onto the sofa when Ellen rang.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Hello! Tell me everything about the party! How was it?”
“It poured,” Sam said.
“Please tell me you didn’t make everyone stand outside in the rain.”
“Of course I didn’t,” said Sam. “We all sat awkwardly around the kitchen making awkward conversation.”
“Oh, dear. See, you should have had a band. Dancing would have solved that.”
“Where would I have fitted a band in here? I could barely fit all the guests in here.”
“A D-list celeb would have helped, too.”
“I couldn’t even get the old man to come.” Sam heard how glum he sounded and cursed himself.
Ellen must have heard it, too. “Oh, Sam. Don’t be so down on yourself. I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that.”
“It wasn’t,” Sam said. “I’m just tired. And it was just . . . not quite what I expected. I mean, everyone came, but it was awkward and no one really knew what to do and I failed at making the grated beetroot salad. I was definitely not impressive.”
“I’m sure you were impressive,” Ellen said soothingly. “How did Teddy do?”
“Well, he played video games with the teenage boy who came, so I suppose that’s something. But the little girl says she is ‘at war’ with him. It’s very charming.”
“At war with him?” echoed Ellen.
“Over Jack. That bloody dog, he’s causing a lot of problems.”
“He also makes Teddy happy,” Ellen reminded him.
“Yeah, there is that.”
“So what about you? Did you make any friend
s? Any available women?”
Sam thought about the woman with the carrots at the supermarket. He said, “It was a party, not a speed-dating event.”
“I just thought I’d check. You do sound tired. You should get some sleep. Tomorrow the girls and I will come over and we can drink and they can finish up the spikes on your ceiling.”
“I said no to the spikes on the ceiling,” said Sam.
“Oh, did you?” said Ellen. “You’ll have to tell them that tomorrow. Bye, love!”
Ellen ended the call.
“Cheeky,” Sam mumbled under his breath. He was apparently getting spikes on his ceiling.
He sprawled on his sofa and closed his eyes and listened to Emilia playing the drums next door.
Chapter 6
Dear Mr. Bishop,
We invite you and Theodore to visit us at Turtledove Primary School! Theodore’s form teacher, Miss Quinn, will be present to answer any questions, as will I. We look forward to assisting you and Theodore in smoothing Theodore’s transition, and welcoming Theodore to Turtledove! Coo coo!
David Sullivan, Head Teacher
“What’s this?” asked Ellen, pulling the invitation off Sam’s fridge.
“Why are you always spying on what I put on my fridge?” asked Sam.
“If you didn’t want me to spy on it, you wouldn’t leave it out. ‘Coo coo’?”
“Yeah, I think it’s the sound that turtledoves make. Get it?”
“I think they should rethink that as a school sign-off,” said Ellen.
“I think I will not say that in the meeting because I think that I want Teddy’s teachers to like me.”
“You were always like that, you know,” Ellen said, brandishing the piece of paper at Sam like a weapon.
“Like what?”
“Always wanting to make sure people liked you.”
Sam tilted his head. “You say that like it’s a terrible thing.”
“I guess it doesn’t have to be. But it can be if you deny who you really are in order to please others.”
Sam sighed as he finished emptying the dishwasher. “Ellen. It’s a stupid cutesy sign-off. It has nothing to do with denying who I really am.”
