style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Hi.’ Harvey’s face breaks into a grin as Kerry welcomes him in. ‘Thanks for making time to see me.’
‘That’s okay,’ she says, taken aback by the fact that his phone voice and appearance don’t entirely match. She’d figured mid-twenties tops, gangly and puppy-like, but the man who stands before her in her cluttered kitchen is towering above her, a proper strong-looking man with dark, almost black wavy hair, playful deep blue eyes and a hint of stubble. Buddy is now sitting obediently on his cushion in the corner of the kitchen, as if in readiness for being judged.
‘Nice dog,’ Harvey offers. ‘Loves people, obviously.’
‘We’ve only had him a few weeks,’ Kerry explains. ‘We’re still new to the whole dog business.’
He smiles, casting Buddy a fond glance. ‘Nothing to it, not once you tune into what they’re all about.’
‘You’re a dog person then?’
Harvey nods. ‘Always had them, until about a year ago when my flatmate moved in. He’s allergic, unfortunately.’
‘That’s a pity.’
‘So how’s he settled with you?’
Kerry pauses, tempted to gloss over Buddy’s quirks, but decides there’s something about Harvey that compels her to be honest. ‘He’s brilliant with us, loves being off the lead and charging about on the beach. But he barks like crazy at other dogs and hates being left alone in the house. He has a bunch of neuroses.’ She shrugs. ‘I guess he’s just a little needy.’
Harvey nods. ‘Separation anxiety’s pretty common. Maybe he’s had some sort of trauma or loss.’
‘Er, yes, his previous owner mentioned something like that …’
‘But dogs are like humans,’ he adds. ‘Pretty resilient. It just takes time.’
For a moment, Kerry is stuck for words, as if it’s not Buddy he’s talking about, but her. It just takes time. How long, exactly? She hates it, the way she can be fine one moment and utterly grief-stricken the next. A hazy picture, of a smudge of baby in a womb, floats into her consciousness.
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she says quickly. ‘Anyway, let’s go through to the music room and we can talk about what you’d like to do.’
As he follows her out of the kitchen, Kerry silently curses the Impregnator for turning her into the kind of woman who could, literally, blub at anything.
‘So have you played much before?’ she asks, clearing her throat as they sit side by side at the piano.
‘Er, only an old Casio keyboard I have at home. I know middle C and the C major chord but beyond that I’m pretty lost.’
She glances at him, deciding she likes this smiley, amiable man; his eagerness is refreshing, especially after the gloomy twelve-year-old boy she taught this afternoon.
‘So what kind of music d’you want to play, Harvey?’
He shrugs. ‘Oh, anything really.’
‘Really? You don’t have a preference?’
‘Well, maybe not death metal.’ He grins.
‘How about I play something now, and you improvise here’ – she indicates the upper reaches of the keyboard – ‘just to get a feel for it?’
‘Um … okay.’ She starts to play, and after a few moments’ hesitation Harvey starts to pick out notes, tentatively at first, then relaxing a little.
‘Mummy?’ comes the small voice from the doorway.
Kerry turns to see Mia, pink-faced and sleepy with pillow-mussed hair. ‘Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed? It’s gone nine, you’ve got school tomorrow …’
‘Got a tummy ache.’
‘Oh, have you? Come here, darling.’ Mia’s gaze remains fixed upon Harvey as she strides over and hops up onto her mother’s knee. ‘This is Mia,’ Kerry adds.
‘Hi, Mia, nice to meet you.’ He smiles and raises a hand in greeting.
‘I know you,’ she announces with a sly grin.
‘I don’t think you do, Mia,’ Kerry says. ‘He’s just come to talk about piano lessons.’
‘I do, Mummy.’ She turns to him. ‘You’re Harvey Chuckles and you came to my school.’
‘Harvey Chuckles?’ Kerry repeats.
‘Er … it’s sort of my professional name,’ he says quickly. ‘They booked me last minute at school when the other entertainer couldn’t make it …’
‘But I thought you said you organised conferences?’
‘Well, er …’
‘These conferences are for under-eights,’ she says with a smirk.
‘Er … I suppose so, yes.’
‘You had a yellow wig on,’ Mia continues, clearly in her stride now, ‘but we saw you take it off, and your face-paint, and make yourself back into an ordinary man.’
Harvey is laughing now, and blushing; the effect is curiously endearing, Kerry decides.
‘You weren’t supposed to see that part,’ he tells Mia. ‘Anyway, do you play the piano? I expect you do …’
‘Yeah, Mummy teaches me.’
‘We’re sort of doing it casually,’ Kerry explains.
Mia grins at him, swinging her legs from Kerry’s lap, stomach ache evidently forgotten.
‘We play together,’ she says proudly, ‘and it’s not boring learning like at school. Every time I get better ’cause that’s what Mummy does. She makes it fun.’
‘Well, that sounds great,’ Harvey says. ‘That’s exactly what I’d like to do too.’
‘D’you like being a clown?’ Mia asks him.
‘Um … I do,’ he replies, clearly fibbing, ‘although I wouldn’t say it’s what I’d like to do for the rest of my life.’
‘Yeah.’ She nods thoughtfully. ‘You don’t get old man clowns.’
‘Mia,’ Kerry cuts in, ‘you really must go to bed now. Come on, sweetheart.’ She lifts her daughter from her lap, carefully stepping over Buddy who’s been gnawing his rubbery hamburger toy at her feet. ‘Sorry about that,’ she tells Harvey as Mia reluctantly makes to leave the room, yet still lurks, clearly intrigued, in the doorway.
‘That’s okay. Maybe I’d better leave you in peace, though. I’ve taken up enough of your evening already.’ He smiles and, once again, Kerry finds
