How To Choose a Sweetheart (5 page)

He’s not entirely sure whether the sudden appearance of Alice’s father on the scene is good news or bad. The ‘problems’ part is definitely good.

“That’s fine. I wouldn’t feel like a baby-sitter or anything.” A pink lie.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t say if I wasn’t.” An orange one. “Besides, it might even be a good idea for the first lesson.” It will have its advantages, of course. It should be much easier to pull the wool over the eyes over a youngster than an adult.

“It would be a great help.” Which will give him brownie points.

“Then go.”

Cath gets on with making the coffee. It smells fantastic, like a French cafe before the start of the working day. All Max needs to do is discreetly get rid of his foul-tasting gum so that he can fully enjoy the experience.

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Cath says. “Believe me. I need to ask about money. He’ll say he hasn’t any and we’ll start fighting. I know it might look like we’re rich, but this was left to us by Dad. There might be plenty of room to swing a cat, but without the money we get for Alice we couldn’t feed the ruddy thing after it got the tour.”

Max feels the tension disappear from his neck. Alice’s dad’s an arse. Better still, an estranged arse. He’d cheer if it wouldn’t blow the whole thing. “Then just stay calm and say what you need to say. It’ll be fine.” He senses that he’s the wise head on newly relaxed shoulders.

“You’ve obviously never met my ex-husband.” Married. And divorced. Fantastic.

“Probably not.”

“At least we’re meeting in a public place.”

As Cath turns away to get spoons from the drawer, Max whips out the gum from his cheek and sticks it to the palm of his hand.

Alice returns from the bedroom empty handed. “I don’t know which vase you mean Mummy.”

“Can you finish off here Max?” Cath asks him, taking her daughter’s hand. “I’ll go and get a vase?”

The two females leave the room.

Max opens a couple of doors and looks for a bin. There doesn’t seem to be one, at least not one that’s not cleverly disguised as something else. He realises he’ll have to resort to old bad habits and picks the edge of the worktop near to the freezer to stick his gum underneath.

Next he pours the coffee into the mugs and milk into one of them then pauses.

“How do you take it?” He shouts and it seems just a little too loud.

Cath returns and answers. “White, no sugar please.” She looks at her watch.

“Actually, it might be better if I just get this over with and have a cup later. I can heat it up in the micro.”

“Can I get anything for you Alice?” It’s what a responsible adult would do, take care of the kid.

“Water please.”

“Do you have a special glass?” He’s a complete natural.

“No, it doesn’t matter which. We keep bottles in the fridge.” Of course they do.

As Alice returns, clutching a vase with the flower in it, Max moves over to the fridge and looks for the bottle. At first he misses it, given that he’s looking for an old squash container that’s been re-used a thousand times or more, like the one he keeps by his bed after a drinking session. Rather than ask, he looks more carefully. There are two blue, glass bottles with something French written on the label. His language skills have never been good, but ‘L’eau’ he can remember. No wonder they’re short of cash if they’re buying this kind of stuff. 

He takes one of the bottles out and gives the cap a twist. There’s a tiny fizzing noise as gas escapes and he wishes he had a valve like that in case of emergencies. He fills a glass and hands it to Alice, who then moves over to the vase and flower and pours it in. She smiles and turns and carries the flower with her as she walks towards the door.

“I’m going to put it by my bed so I can look at it when I go to sleep.”

“That’s great,” Cath says. “But next time, we’ll use tap water for the plants, OK.”

“OK Mum.”

When she’s gone, Cath turns to Max and speaks in a low voice. “You seem to have made an impression already.”

“Let’s just hope it’s a good one.” It’s not something that usually happens when he’s with children – mostly he tends to overdo it and makes them cry - but maybe he’ll be all right with Alice.

“Maybe it’s the magic in your fingers,” Cath says.

“Or maybe it’s just that I chose the right flower.” He doesn’t mention that if he did, he ended up giving it to the wrong person.

“I’m going to stick with the magic for now.” Cath walks over to the big table and Max joins her there. He seems to be ahead for now, so maybe it’s a good time for him to go fishing.

“Has Alice’s dad been gone long?”

“Since she was about two.” Max does the maths and he’s happy with the answer.

“Can she remember that?”

“Not really. Which is probably for the best. That way I don’t have to explain why he doesn’t want to see her.” The guy’s a lowlife, Max thinks, which makes him feel like smiling while he’s trying to look serious.

“Doesn’t he visit?” Thankfully the serious face holds.

“Never.”

“That seems sad.” He may not have meant it when he said it, but now he feels the hurt and wonders how things might have been if his own dad had taken off and never come back.

“I suppose so, but it’s probably for the best.”

“It doesn’t seem right for someone to ignore their children.” It’s not something he’s thought about too much, but it doesn’t. If he ever has children he’s going to be there for them when they need him, unless that’s on a Friday or a Saturday night, and possibly Thursdays too.

“You’re right,” she keeps her eyes fixed on his as she talks, “but he has two more of his own now and another on the way.” Her laugh has more than a hint of sarcasm. “Imagine that from someone who didn’t want kids and couldn’t cope with Alice.”

“Maybe he’s maturing in his old age.” Maybe there’ll be extra points for not kicking the guy when he’s down.

“I doubt that. It all seems to be repeating itself with his new family. He’ll start to lose the thread – it’s happening already - and then he’ll give up. There’ll be one more set of casualties to add to the list.”

“Let’s hope he can keep it together then.” Perhaps his new girlfriend will be able  to reach him.

“As soon as anyone gets close he starts to switch off.”

It sounds like a ‘man thing’ to Max, just one of those regular occurrences in the game of love. At least he’s back on familiar territory. “He clams up because it all closes in? Gets a bit frightening?”

Cath’s eyes open a little wider, as if to admire his perception a little more closely. They sparkle in the light, much to Max’s delight. “You’ve got it. And that’s when he’s at his most dangerous.”

The word sends a tingle of fear down Max’s spine, like his neck has been touched by an icy finger. What if the guy’s the jealous type? A bit of rough who enjoyed hanging round with a diamond for a while? The type of man who would throw a punch before bothering to introduce himself?

It’s a tangled web Max is weaving and he wonders whether he’s going to end up strangling himself with the thread.

“What do you mean, dangerous?”

Her eyes narrow again and she looks ashamed of something. “That’s when he starts drinking and fighting. Not the most pleasant of smoke-screens.”

Drinking and fighting? A lethal combination. Drinking = good, fighting = bad, pain = terrible.

“Hence the public place for meeting.”

Cath stands up quickly. “Which reminds me, I’d better be going.”

She quickly downs her coffee and takes her cup back to the sink. She picks up her keys and purse, arching her back slightly to squeeze them into her jeans pocket. As she does so, her top rises to reveal her stomach. It’s a delicious sight, tight skin over a flat tummy. She walks over to the balcony and slips on her shoes without bending down.

“I’ll try not to be too long,” she says.

Max feels his insides flutter in panic.

“Don’t worry. I can hang around for a good while.” He can’t believe that’s what he said. True, it makes him sound confident and kind, but what the hell will he do if she takes him at his word?

“No, I won’t be long. Promise.” A promise is a good thing. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your day off.”

“It really isn’t a problem.” He really needs to have a word with his mouth and bring it into line.

Alice returns to the room to see what the action’s about.

Cath crouches to kiss her on the cheek. “Listen sweetie, I have to go out. I won’t be long. You be a good girl for Max and when I get back you can show me what you’ve learned to play.”

Alice throws her arms around Cath’s shoulders, clinging on tightly for a moment with her eyes closed. When they separate Cath stands up to leave.

Max feels his stomach drop a couple of inches. Not only does he have to babysit, but he has to teach her to play something on the piano to boot.

“Help yourself to anything,” Cath tells Max. “Alice can show you where everything is, can’t you Sweetheart?” 

Alice nods.

“Have a nice time,” Max says.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good luck.”

“I could do with it.”

As Cath leaves the room she waves to Alice and, looking back over her shoulder, she gives Max a warm and lingering smile. Alice remains in the same spot.   

There’s a long pause, one that feels pregnant. Pregnant with other pregnant pauses.

Max sips at his coffee and tries to come up with a plan. His mind’s a blank canvas in a snowstorm.

Alice breaks the silence. “Will she be gone for long?”

He really hopes not. “Maybe an hour or two.”

He walks over to her and rests a hand on her shoulder. What he needs now is to keep calm and to go with Plan A. If there was a Plan B he might feel easier, but he had given things some thought that morning as he’d been expecting to be watched like a hawk through the first lesson. It occurs to him again that being alone might have its advantages.

“I’ve got something else for you now,” he says. “For our first lesson.”

He picks up his cup and finishes his coffee, then takes out a book from his satchel.

“It’s called ‘Let’s Play’.”

As he stands, he flicks the pages under his nose and sniffs the book. Alice stares at him as he does it.

“Sorry. It’s a habit of mine. I work in a book shop you see and when I open a book I have to smell it. Old books are the best. You can almost smell the stories in them.”

He offers the book to her. “Would you like a sniff?”

Alice nods her head and walks over rather sheepishly. When she gets there he flicks the pages under her nose.

“Do you like it?  Can you smell the piano?”

She hunches her shoulders and smiles.

“Let’s go and sit down and I’ll show you what music looks like on paper.”

“I know what it looks like.”

Another turn. What if she knows more than he does? He’ll be drowning, not waving. “Are you sure?”

“Grandpa used to play tunes for me so I could sing and dance.”

“That sounds nice.” Good old Grandpa.

“He’s gone away now though.”

The silence returns. Alice’s mouth takes a downturn at the sides. Max remembers that he’s the grown up in the situation, therefore he’s the one that needs to keep things going.

“Did he ever teach you anything?”

“Even green bottles dance forever.” She’s back with him again.

“Green bottles?  I don’t understand.”

“It’s to remember the way the notes go. We made it up. He had to help me a bit because I didn’t know my letters. I know them now though. Even Green Bottles Dance Forever, see?”

“Do you want to know how I remember?”

“OK.”

“Enter Gregor Barking. Deborah Faints.” It’s a shameless steal, but Mr Evans will never know.

“Is Gregor a dog?” She asks the question as if they’re having a normal conversation.

“I don’t think so. I think he’s a short man with no neck and fangs.”

“Yeuk!”

“He’s really ugly.”

Alice reacts, playfully disgusted.

Max is encouraged and takes it further. “He probably helps a mad professor or something. Someone who’s making a monster.” He curls his fingers, puts out his teeth and gives his best impression of Nosferatu.

“Aaagh!” She jumps back like she’s really frightened. Max wonders if he’s gone too far. Alice takes her hands down from her face, but her expression is blank and he needs to do something quickly.

The first thing that comes into his mind is to smoke a cigarette. The second is to grab a piece of gum, or even two. He digs around in his satchel and with nervous fingers pushes out a tablet of nicotine and pops it into his mouth.

“Did your grandpa teach you anything else?”

She looks a little less worried and manages to speak. “He taught me my letters.”

“He sounds like a good grandpa.” Alice picks up the piano book to fiddle with it and carries on. “And he taught me how to tie my shoelaces and the names of the birds in our garden.”

Now for the million dollar question. “Did he teach you to play the piano?”

“No, he didn’t teach me that.” Jackpot!

The gum shoots a burst of nicotine to Max’s brain at the same time as she gives him the good news. The combination makes him feel pleasantly dizzy. He’s about to congratulate himself on the whole thing when he looks at his watch and realises they’ve only been alone for five minutes. His elation turns to a minor dyspeptic episode.  He covers his mouth, recovers his balance and carries on. “Should we start to learn today?  Would you like that?”

Alice nods.

“Come on then.” Upwards and onwards he thinks.

Max holds out his hand and Alice takes it. Together they walk over to the piano.

Just as they get there, Alice pulls away. “Wait. I need my teddy. He’s on the balcony.” They go out together and return to the piano stool, as if they’re forming a new band.

***

T
he hours have flown by. It’s as if Alice has reached into Max and pulled out his inner child.

Having two children in the flat instead of one has created a few problems, not least the mess that has been created.

There’s a clutter of toys around the piano, all dragged in at various points of the lesson to either watch or to take part.