by Ivy Pembroke
So he took his time answering, and David gave him an enormous stack of papers that were supposed to be indicative of questions parents might have, and then said, “I’ll take you back to Teddy now.”
“That’s okay,” Sam said, probably too hastily. “I can find my way there myself.”
David looked surprised, and then didn’t. “I’m sure you can. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bishop.”
Which made Sam question momentarily how many single fathers showed up thinking they had a chance with the lovely Miss Quinn. Probably every single father in London, he thought. So it was therefore unlikely she was about to be charmed by a man who had tried to flirt with her through the medium of beetroot.
When Sam reached the classroom, Miss Quinn was sitting on the floor with Teddy, and she had laid cards out between them, and she was saying, with one of those deep-dimple smiles, “No, no, your memory can’t possibly be that good, you must be cheating.”
Sam wasn’t sure if he made a noise to give himself away, but they both looked up at him, so he must have. Miss Quinn scrambled to standing. She, at least, was wearing jeans, so Sam felt more appropriately dressed. And a pretty blue shirt and a necklace with a star pendant that her hand fluttered over as she said, “Oh. Mr. Bishop. All set with David?”
“It’s Sam,” Sam said. “And yes. Theoretically.” He reflected upon the pile of papers in his hands. “I think he’s concerned I might have a lot of questions.”
Miss Quinn, smile restored, said, “Don’t worry. If he’s really concerned about your fitness as a parent, he gives you a whole three-ring binder with at least five hundred pages’ worth of notes.”
“Ah,” said Sam. “Then I’m doing well.” He looked from Miss Quinn to Teddy and wasn’t sure what else to say. So of course he brought up beetroot. “I ended up surrendering to the beetroot.”
Miss Quinn looked surprised. Why did he keep bringing up beetroot with this beautiful woman? She said, “Oh.”
“You were right. They were very tough negotiators.”
“Did you use bacon?”
“It turned out I didn’t have bacon.”
“Hard to make beetroot interesting without bacon,” said Miss Quinn.
“It turns out, according to Google, that you can substitute feta cheese for bacon, but I wasn’t sure it was going to have the same effect. And I didn’t have any of that either.” Sam thought it would be okay with him if he was just unable to speak from now on in Miss Quinn’s presence. He would actually be more alluring if he would stop talking.
Teddy was looking horrified at him, which proved just how smooth he was being.
So he said quickly, “Anyway, it was very nice to meet you, and I’m sure we’ll see you again lots, well, I mean, Teddy obviously will, he’ll see you every day, and maybe we’ll see you at the supermarket again, and I hope you enjoyed your carrots.”
Miss Quinn looked stunned, and not stunned by his charm.
Sam gave her a quick wave and practically pulled Teddy out of the classroom and outside.
“What was that?” Teddy said, staring at him. “That was horrible. Why were you talking about bacon?”
“I don’t know!” Sam said. “I panicked! She’s pretty! I like her!”
“How did you ever pull Mom?” asked Teddy, with a pitying shake of his head.
* * *
It was Pen who found out that Sai fainted at the vet’s, because Pari couldn’t wait to tell someone, and Pen happened to be outside checking on the flowers she was tending for the bumblebees. And Pen mentioned it to Emilia when she came to bring the rubbish outside because Pen knew Emilia would want to know about Sai.
And that was how Emilia found herself, frantic with worry, knocking on the Basak door before she thought better of it.
Mrs. Basak opened the door and looked at her in surprise. Of course. Because Emilia had never been to this house while an adult had been home.
Emilia tried a nervous smile and tried to come up with a plausible lie for being there. She should have thought this through. “Hiya,” she said.
“Hello,” Mrs. Basak said, and pointedly waited for her to say something else.
“I, er.” Emilia thought desperately of the new, friendlier street the new neighbors were trying to provoke with their parties and socializing. She blurted out, “Mum sent me over here to see if maybe you wanted to meet for coffee sometime.”
Mrs. Basak looked even more startled, and then, which was worse, suspicious. “Why?”
Emilia thought of the only thing that her mum and Mrs. Basak had in common. “To talk about kids.”
Mrs. Basak didn’t look convinced. “And also the street dog,” added Emilia, on a whim.
Apparently those were magic words. Mrs. Basak nodded sharply. “Ah, yes, the street dog. Your mother and I should discuss the street dog. It simply cannot be wandering around the street. Your mother said it terrorizes the cats, and that’s the right word for it: terrorizing. I have seen it hunting squirrels.”
Emilia thought that was unnecessary. She didn’t think Jack terrorized anything, unless with frantic tail-wagging. And she was pretty sure the squirrels hunted Jack, not the other way around. But Emilia also had a more important reason to be at the Basak house. “So, was today the day Sai was going to check out the vet’s?” she asked brightly. “That sounded so interesting!”
“He fainted!” shouted Pari, practically running to the door to share this news. “He saw the needle and he just fainted.”
“Is he going to be all right?” asked Emilia anxiously.
“Well, I suppose he will never be a veterinarian now,” answered Mrs. Basak. “Or a doctor. Or even a dentist. These are dark days indeed.”
“Right,” said Emilia. “But Sai’s okay?”
Mrs. Basak looked suspicious again. “Yes,” she said. “Thanks for your concern.” And then she closed the door.
But not before Pari nodded and gave her a thumbs-up behind Mrs. Basak’s back, so Emilia supposed she felt a little bit better.
* * *
Sophie and Evie were trying to solve the problem of getting spikes to hang from Sam’s lounge ceiling. Apparently this was more complicated than they’d anticipated.
“They didn’t consider that it would be difficult to turn my lounge into a cave?” said Sam.
“This is the first house they’ve decorated,” said Ellen. “There’s a learning curve.”
“I’m so honored to be their very first client.”
“You’re very special,” agreed Ellen, as Teddy wandered into the kitchen from the lounge. “Teddy! How’s it going in there?”
“They might make the ceiling fall down,” said Teddy seriously.
“Oh, good,” said Sam. “That sounds like it’s going well.”
“Girls!” Ellen shouted to them. “Don’t make the ceiling fall down!”
“We won’t!” they chorused back.
“There,” Ellen said. “All taken care of. Now. Tell me all about the school. Was it wonderful? Did you like your teacher?”
Teddy brightened. “My teacher’s the carrot girl.”
“The what?” said Ellen blankly.
Sam decided to become extraordinarily fascinated by the contents of his mostly empty fridge.
“You didn’t tell her, Dad?” said Teddy disapprovingly.
“Tell me what?” said Ellen.
“Does mustard expire?” asked Sam, still looking determinedly into his fridge. “I’m afraid our mustard is about to expire.”
“Dad met a woman at the supermarket,” Teddy said to Ellen.
“Really?” said Ellen, drawing the word out until it had the same amount of syllables as this is going to be tremendously embarrassing for my little brother. “Sam, get your head out of the fridge and talk to me. You’ve been holding out on me!”
Sam, resigned, straightened out of the fridge and closed the door. “I haven’t been. I didn’t really meet anyone.”
“Yes, you did,” said Teddy. He looked at Ellen. “He smiled at h
er like crazy.”
Ellen smiled at Sam. “Did he now? Tell me more.”
“She was going to buy carrots.”
“Fascinating,” said Ellen.
“Oh, my God,” said Sam. “You two are ridiculous.”
“This sounds like the maddest first meeting I’ve ever heard of,” said Ellen, “which frankly sounds exactly like your type.”
“I don’t have a type,” said Sam.
“You do have a type. It’s ‘slightly mad but mostly delightful.’ ”
“And the carrot woman turns out to be my teacher,” finished Teddy.
“Well, this is fantastic!” said Ellen. “This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Is it?” said Sam. “Is it really? You have two children. Surely hearing the news that you were going to have children was more exciting than this news.”
“That happened so long ago, the thrill has faded,” said Ellen. “So are you going to date Teddy’s teacher?”
“Not if it’s up to him,” Teddy said. “He is horrible at it, Aunt Ellen.”
“So I’ve heard,” Ellen agreed grimly.
“Look, I don’t think an eight-year-old is in any position to judge dating abilities,” Sam defended himself.
“He kept talking to her about beetroot,” said Teddy. “Basically every word out of his mouth was about beetroot.”
Ellen looked blankly at Sam.
Sam covered his face with his hands. “It’s true. I just kept babbling about beetroot.”
“Wha . . . ?” said Ellen, bewildered. “Is this a thing you do? I’ve never heard you talk about beetroot before.”
“I don’t know,” Sam said helplessly. “We met in the fruit and veg section. There was this whole . . . thing, about beetroot. And now, I don’t know, I just keep bringing it up. It’s like I don’t know what else to talk about. It’s like I literally have no other topic of conversation to bring up except for beetroot.”
“Good God,” said Ellen. “This is serious.”
“That’s what I said,” said Teddy. “It was embarrassing.”
“Maybe she likes beetroot talk,” said Ellen. “Maybe it’s a thing she finds attractive in men?”
“I don’t even think I want to date a woman who lists ‘beetroot’ as an attractive thing,” said Sam.
“You’d better want to date a woman like that, since apparently it’s the only topic of conversation you’re capable of.”
Sam dragged a hand over his face and muttered a curse into it. And then he looked at Teddy and Ellen, both of whom were regarding him like they were judging his performance on a reality show. A dating reality show that he was doing really poorly on. “What should I do?”
“I feel like there are only two things you should do,” Ellen said. She held up one hand dramatically. “Number one: Ask her out on a normal date like a normal person.”
“She’s Teddy’s teacher,” Sam said.
“So?”
“So, do you think she’ll think it’s gross?”
“Not if you follow the second thing you should do. Teddy, what’s the second thing your father should do?”
“Stop talking about beetroot,” said Teddy.
“Exactly,” said Ellen. “Not your usual dating advice, but apparently vitally important when it comes to you.”
* * *
Sam had a day in which he probably made a fool of himself in front of Teddy’s head teacher—who no doubt thought he was pathetic for behaving like an idiot over Miss Quinn—and also in front of Teddy’s teacher, which was made worse by the fact that he kind of liked Miss Quinn, even though he’d met her a grand total of twice, and both times he’d mostly talked about vegetables with her. But still. With the knowledge that he kept babbling about beetroot to a beautiful woman whom he found very attractive, Sam’s self-esteem was not exactly at a high point.
So, when he walked over to Mr. Hammersley’s, and Mr. Hammersley opened the door, he said immediately, “I’ve had a bad day, so let’s skip over the part where you’re annoyed that I’m bothering you and say rude things to me and pretend you don’t care what happens to Jack and let’s just discuss whether Jack can stay over our house every once in a while, because that would make Teddy happy.”
Mr. Hammersley stood at the door, looked at Sam, and said, “You do look like you’ve had a day.”
Great. Even the old man who talked to nobody was taking pity on him now. “It’s okay,” said Sam. “It’s just been a long day. A long month.” He laughed suddenly, without humor, and said, “A long few years. But never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Your boy wants Jack to stay over every once in a while?” asked Mr. Hammersley gruffly, not commenting on the fact that Sam was making no sense on his doorstep.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I know he doesn’t belong to you, he belongs to the street, but—”
“Let me get him some food. Don’t want him to go to bed hungry.”
They already had food for Jack, but Sam was somewhat charmed by the fact that Mr. Hammersley clearly thought he was Jack’s sole source of food, and Sam didn’t want to disappoint him by pointing out that the whole street fed Jack. So Sam waited patiently while Mr. Hammersley shuffled off. He came back with a small bag of food and a small wooden figure that he handed across.
“What’s this?” Sam asked, peering at it.
“It’s a wizard. For your boy.”
“A . . . Oh. Okay.” Sam had no idea what to make of that, but the little figure was enchanting. “Did you make this?”
“Good night,” Mr. Hammersley said, and shut the door. Apparently the conversational limit had been reached.
Sam shook his head at the door and sighed, “Weird bloody day.”
Chapter 7
Welcome to Year 4 at Turtledove! We’re going to have a wonderful year full of fun, learning, new challenges, and new friendships! You the parents can help your child by keeping abreast of what we’re doing in the classroom. I’ll keep you posted in periodic communications . . . and so will they! Your children will be working on a class newspaper this year, so stay tuned for tales of epic adventures!
Miss Quinn
On Anna’s very long list of things to do, “have coffee with Diya Basak” was not very high. But Emilia had said that Mrs. Basak wanted to have coffee with her, to talk about the stray dog, supposedly. Anna suspected it was so she could brag about how perfect her children were, but Anna didn’t want to be rude.
“I would just be rude to people,” Marcel said when she told him. “You worry too much about being rude to people.”
“That’s why I have to worry about being rude to people,” Anna replied, which effectively ended that conversation.
So Anna met up with Diya at her house one Sunday afternoon. Diya was making a batch of chai, and she offered some to Anna, and Anna didn’t want to be rude so she accepted some.
Then they sat at the table in silent awkwardness.
Finally Anna said, “Where are the kids?”
“A friend is having a party,” Diya said. “Darsh took them. I stayed here to have tea with you.”
Anna felt like there was a judgment in those words. She took a sip of her chai and said, “Anyway. About the dog.”
“Yes. The dog.” Diya nodded briskly. “I do not like the idea of that dog just wandering around the street. It’s dangerous.”
“It is dangerous,” Anna agreed.
“We should talk to the new neighbors about controlling the dog.”
“We should,” Anna agreed again. “It’s only right.” She paused, then said casually, “Won’t your daughter be upset, though? I mean, your daughter loves Jack.”
“She’ll be fine,” said Diya darkly. “School has started now and she doesn’t have all day to do nothing but think about the dog.”
“If you say so,” said Anna innocently. “I wouldn’t want to cause an issue within your family.”
“We’re fine,” said Diya challengingly.
“Us, t
oo,” replied Anna.
“I’m glad we had this discussion,” said Diya. “We can be united together when we confront the new neighbor.”
“Yes,” said Anna.
“But I have to run to the party now. We’ll do it later.”
“Of course,” said Anna, and left most of her chai behind her. Strangest, most pointless conversation ever, she thought. Why had Diya even wanted to speak with her?
She said that when she got back to their house. Emilia and Marcel were embroiled in playing a card game, laughing at each other, and Marcel said, “That was fast. How was not being rude to the neighbor?”
He was kidding, and she knew he was, but she still felt self-conscious as she leaned over to turn the kettle on.
“I thought you just had tea,” said Marcel.
“It was chai. And it was the most pointless conversation. I don’t know why she even told you that she wanted to talk to me,” said Anna to Emilia.
“Yeah,” Emilia said, staring fixedly at her hand of cards. “So weird.”
Marcel reached for her hand, and Anna knew this was a gesture of reconciliation, and she shouldn’t turn it down, so she took it.
He said, “Would you like to play with us?”
But Anna was bad at card games, especially the card games Emilia and Marcel played. When Emilia had been small, and the money had been so very tight, a deck of cards had been her main toy, and Marcel had taught her strange and complicated games late into the night, even though Anna insisted everyone should be sleeping. Cards were Emilia and Marcel’s thing together, just like the drums were also Emilia and Marcel’s thing together, and Anna didn’t know what things were her and Emilia’s, or even her and Marcel’s.
It was easier, Anna thought, to just be at work than to try to navigate this family where she didn’t have a place.
“No,” said Anna, and managed a smile. “That’s okay.” And she turned to make herself a cup of tea.
* * *
There wasn’t much else to do, so Bill had generally been in the habit of looking out the window to watch what the neighbors were up to, but he made a particular point these days to be at the window when the children came home from school. It was easy enough to remember, because Jack always went dashing up the street to meet them, barking the whole way and bouncing in such overexuberance that he was always half-tumbling over his paws. Jack served as a public announcement for most street events.