Page 38 of A Face in the Crowd
As Harry sorts out his desserts, I leave a plate of leftovers for Billy. He barely raises his head but does sit up enough to slowly start to eat. I sit on the floor next to his bed and gently rub the area behind his ears. It is still three days until Bonfire Night but that doesn’t stop a steady stream of fireworks fizzing into the air outside. Each bang pricks Billy’s ears, but he doesn’t hide behind my legs in the way he has before.
Harry soon brings over his volcano cakes, looking over them proudly as if he’s just given birth to twins. He talks me through the ingredients and how he makes them every Christmas. ‘Or for special occasions,’ he adds.
We might have little in common, but there’s no question that Harry’s Gran knew what she was doing when she came up with the recipe. The chocolate is so gooey that my tongue sticks to the top of my mouth and I’m left gasping for a drink.
When we’re done, Harry insists on doing the washing-up, while I dry and put things away. We talk on the sofa for a while, but it’s hard to remember what about, even as the conversation is happening.
‘What are you doing on Bonfire Night?’ he asks.
‘I’ve got to look after Billy,’ I reply.
Billy watches us, apparently aware his name is being used. He’s finished the scraps of food and licked the plate clean.
‘It must be hard at this time of year when you have a dog,’ Harry says.
‘It used to be one of my favourite times of the year,’ I reply. ‘Perhaps my overall favourite, even above Christmas. I loved it all as a kid. That was before trick or treating was really a thing – but we’d go to different firework displays. I used to score them out of ten and keep everything in a notebook so I’d remember.’ I laugh slightly at my own nerdiness. It feels like a lifetime ago.
‘Don’t you like it as much now…?
‘No.’
‘Because of Billy?’
‘It’s when Ben died.’
There’s not a lot to say after that. It’s hard not to hear the bangs overhead and remember the policeman coming along the path to confirm what had happened. Perhaps I’m too honest for my own good, or maybe it’s a get-out because it doesn’t feel as if Harry and I have connected. There was a definite spark with Ben. Sometimes, when Billy dashes to meet me at the door, his tail wagging, his tongue lolling, I wonder if that’s how I used to be with Ben. There was an excitement at having waited a whole day to see him and I was a tail-wagging puppy.
Harry nods along as if he understands and I wonder if he feels the lack of connection, too. Sometimes, things are what they are.
We talk a little more, but there’s no substance. Before long, we’re on about the weather forecast and how it would be nice to have a white Christmas this year.
Eventually, Harry says he has to go. ‘Gotta be up early,’ he adds.
I give him back his crockery and insist he doesn’t leave all the alcohol, then I lead him the few steps to the front door. As soon as I open it, we both stop. The melodic piano opening of Elton John’s ‘Rocket Man’ has just started from the door across the hallway.
Harry turns between me and the opposing flat. I don’t know what to say but, seemingly, neither does he. The hairs on my arm have stood up.
‘Shall we do this again?’ he asks, not mentioning the coincidence of the music.
It would be brutally easy to say ‘no’, but I fudge it instead. The lack of chemistry could be because we’re at my flat, with no space and no atmosphere. It was almost certainly a mistake to invite him here. ‘We’ll figure something out,’ I reply.
Harry nods and I grab my phone, then we head downstairs to the front door. He says goodnight and leans in as I go to turn. He almost ends up slamming his forehead into the bridge of my nose and then we eye each other, curious as to the other’s intentions. In the end, he gives me a peck on the cheek and then heads out.
The door opens and closes, allowing a blast of cold and sulphur into the hall. It’s only a moment, but enough for me, so I hurry back up the stairs. As I reach my apartment, Elton is still singing from the one opposite. He’s up to the second or third chorus and I hover between the two flats, unsure what to do. The sheer coincidence of it leaves me gnawing my fingernails. I step towards my own door and then briskly change my mind, spinning on my heels and knocking lightly on Jade’s old flat.
I wait for a moment, holding my breath, and then knock a second time. Louder this time. ‘Hello,’ I call.
No answer.
‘Could you turn the music down?’
I wait, unsure what to do next, when my phone starts to buzz. It’s Unknown once more and I’m lost staring at the screen until the caller rings off.
Back inside my flat, Billy has picked himself up from his bed and is ambling around the apartment sniffing the furniture. I crouch and ruffle his ears.
Perhaps it wasn’t only me who felt no connection.
The number 24 bus is packed when I get on. It’s busier than it was on Friday when the money ended up in my bag. People are getting off, but it’s like a clown car because the amount on board doesn’t seem to be decreasing.
