Chapter 4
GERALD
I scoop up Elsa from Mrs Gregson next door, and we head across the park to the church hall.
Usually, when Elsa leaps into my arms, for the next couple of hours everything else is swept away—any aggro at work, my dad, my loneliness, and my lack of an intimate partner.
It’s just me, the border collie, Jake Shears, and the tricky dance steps.
But not today. Today, I struggle to concentrate.
My new housemate must think I’m a monumental arsehole.
Who knows? He might have moved out by the time I get back.
I’d be contemplating it, in his shoes. I hadn’t smiled at him enough.
Hadn’t made sufficient eye contact. Didn’t laugh at his jokes.
A thousand different versions of how that first encounter could have gone better play out in my head.
I could have taken his bags from him, commented on the dreadful weather, lied and told him how pleased I was to have some company and how much his rent would help me.
Given him more of the fridge, shown him how the TV and the heating system worked.
Suggested we watch a film tonight, grab a takeaway, get to know each other.
He’d probably have politely declined, because he’s clearly the sort of guy who doesn’t even realise television schedules exist on a Saturday night.
Too busy out painting the town red and getting laid.
I don’t want to picture Dr Alaric Alvin getting laid.
The chilly church hall smells like always, a comforting mix of stale biscuits, old lino, and faded cleaning products.
I switch on the heater and the overhead strip lights, then draw the flimsy curtains.
Already, Elsa’s excited, leaping all over me with her wet tongue hanging out as I swap my damp sliders for cross-training shoes.
Fastening my laces takes twice as long, thanks to her.
When I tee up our warmup tunes on my portable speaker, she twirls on the spot like we’re already doing the routine.
I didn’t expect to smile today, but here I am, grinning like a loon at this daft border collie who doesn’t even belong to me.
I ruffle her ears. “You don’t care, do you, that I’m weird and have the social graces of a truffle pig.” I pat her wiggling behind fondly. Neither does she care that my housemate smells like the best summer I never had.
Time to push thoughts of Alaric aside. “Right then, Elsie.” I click my fingers twice, pointing to the centre of the floor.
“Time to show them what we’re made of.” Instantly, Elsa’s there and down on her belly, tail wagging madly.
Joining her, I give her a tiny titbit reward, adopt a pose, and press play.