Chapter 13
A New Friend
By the time Friday rolls around, Steve is gone.
Anders is burning money to get Cerium Malaysia set up as soon as possible.
The aim is for their new in-country team to be set up, staffed, and working within days.
Our games have fans across the world and there are plenty of locals who are excited at the chance of working on The Obsidian Sigil, especially in light of the early-access gameplay and the recently released trailer.
Although everyone is employed on temporary contracts initially, Anders fully expects they will end up as permanent employees if they so wish.
It’s an all-or-nothing approach. The resources he’s using shorten the time Cerium can survive, which is fine if we can produce a quality game by the new release date. If we make the launch date, it won’t matter. If the game is good, we’ll have money coming in. Two ifs.
Anders is quite smug at our Friday meeting, although he does give me credit for flagging the issues with our quality assurance schedule.
It’s a bank holiday weekend, so there is a buzz in the office as the day draws to a close, a cheeriness that lifts everyone’s spirits.
There are some teams that will still be working but Anders himself is off for once.
He’s blocked out a whole three days in his diary, which is almost unheard of.
But he’s got a wedding to attend and Greg, Anders’s childhood best friend, is in town.
Not surprising, as it’s his sister marrying an English PE teacher.
“How are Aurora and Matt?” I ask. I’ve met Aurora a few times and I know she lived in Anders’s apartment for a short while after a faulty e-bike had reduced her home to ashes. But I’ve only met Matt once at a party, where he’d distinguished himself by performing CPR on Rob’s emotional support rat.
“Too cute.” Anders locks his hands together and pushes them to the sky, stretching. He’s been working at his desk all afternoon and he must be stiff. “You know, she once had a crush on me?”
I shake my head, lips pursed at the thought of how easily Anders must break hearts.
“She was only a kid at the time. I tried not to encourage it. And it’s all in the long ago past now. I met Imogen, and she met Matt. It worked out for her, but not for me.”
I think about what Anders is saying and realise he had probably expected Imogen to be his plus one at this wedding and now he’s going solo. No wonder he appears a little mawkish. He doesn’t often refer to her or their breakup.
“You’ll find someone else,” I reassure him. I’m tempted to pat his knee but resist the impulse. My errant fantasies have not diminished, and the feel of his firm quads under my fingers might just set one off.
His dimple flashes into sight. “I already have. She just needs to realise it.”
I walked right into that one. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a comment. I’ve made my position quite clear.”
“I know.” Did he just roll his eyes?
“You’ll be busy this weekend, then?” I move back to the previous, much safer topic.
Anders groans. “I promised Aurora I’d take her brother out for beers tonight. I’ve a feeling I’ll be hungover all weekend. Greg could always drink me under the table.”
I like Anders’s open and honest admission.
No bluster, no boasting, no false machismo.
A man who knows who he is and is happy to be himself.
It’s an attractive quality, to go with all the other attractive ones: intelligent, driven, confident, creative, courteous, playful, and if I’m honest with myself, sexy.
Anders is watching me. I’ve been quiet too long. “Well, have a good time,” I say. “I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to be late for Effie.”
But before I can move, he asks, “Do you two have big plans for the long weekend?”
“Nothing as fabulous as a wedding. If the weather holds, we might go to one of the big parks but Effie’s not a big fan of rain.” I wrinkle my nose. She gets that from me. The spit, spit, spit of water in your face. No, thanks.
He laughs. “She’s living in the wrong country, then.”
“Maybe. Unfortunately for her, she has to live where I pick. It’s a tough life being a kid.”
“Actually, I enjoyed my childhood. I had fun.” He’s sitting back, totally relaxed, a big grin splitting his face as he reminisces.
I leave Anders grinning and return to my desk but I’m thinking about his words.
Childhood should be fun. And right then, I resolve to do something fun with Effie this weekend.
Not just the park, although Effie does love poking around the ponds looking for tadpoles or frogs.
Of course, the tadpoles are gone now, but it doesn’t stop her looking for them.
Something more than that. I’m especially inclined to treat her because we won’t be seeing Dana and Max tonight.
Fiona has the weekend off and the three of them are headed to Euro Disney.
Max, being a typical child and excited about the trip, could not stop talking about it.
I could see Effie struggling to understand why she was not invited.
We had a long conversation when we got home about how sometimes families did things together, just them.
Like when we went to see Grandma and Grandpa, we didn’t take Max along.
By the end, I wasn’t certain whether the issue was resolved in her head, or whether I could expect Effie to invite Max on our next trip to Angola.
Instead, we are having a movie night tonight. I’ve researched online and reckon How to Train Your Dragon will appeal to Effie. And its underlying message of friendship between antagonists might help to make her more open to other children's overtures, the first step in helping her make a friend.
The movie is a big hit. So much so, the next morning Effie asks if we can watch it again. But the weather is bright and sunny and I’ve another suggestion in mind.
“Why don’t we leave that for later?” I suggest. “As it’s such a nice day, I thought we could go to the park.
And if you would like it, we could take swimsuits and visit the Lido.
Afterwards, maybe we could get hot chocolate.
” The weather isn’t so warm that an unheated pool is going to be a balmy experience.
I carefully lay out the plans for the day so Effie knows what to expect.
“Or,” I add cheerfully, “we could go to the supermarket?”
“Park, please.” Effie’s reply is immediate.
She loathes the supermarket. Harsh lights, incessant noise, too many people.
She scoffs the last of her Weetabix and gets down from the table to find her swimming costume.
A little while later, she slips her hand in mine as we walk out of our door into the world.
Late spring in the city is a glorious time.
The stultifying heat of summer has not yet arrived, but the misery of winter is gone.
Trees are robed in their fresh green; the air is crisp; the light vivid.
As we stroll along, we pass cafés, their tables now outdoors after a winter in storage.
Customers linger over coffee and croissants, ignoring the slight chill in favour of some much needed sun.
Effie jigs along beside me, trying to stamp on shadows that move and flow faster than her little feet can manage.
We ride the Underground to Hampstead Heath.
Effie sits, swinging her legs, loudly trying to puzzle out the words on an advertisement for erectile dysfunction.
I pretend to be too busy to help, dealing with an urgent message on my phone.
I don’t like to lie to her but there’s no telling where that conversation would end.
We linger at a pond’s edge as Effie inspects every inch for possible tadpole populations.
She knows they turn into frogs, but she hasn’t quite conquered the concept of seasonality.
I stand by, watching her every move when she’s this close to the water.
She’s mastered the basics of swimming, but young children have an amazing ability to get into trouble the moment your attention is elsewhere.
As we meander our way to the Lido, the sun climbs steadily overhead in a sky as blue as Anders’s eyes and just as cloudless.
It’s perfect weather for a wedding. Aurora and Matt will have a fine day.
I picture Anders in a suit – he does own one, even if he’s hardly ever in it – and I smile for them all.
A loud plop has me whizzing my attention back to Effie.
There’s a spaniel at her feet, a saliva-drenched ball in front of it.
My child loves to steal other people’s dogs.
She is crouching down in an instant, picking up the ball and lobbing it as far as her puny arms can throw.
The owner arrives, slightly out of puff, belatedly reassuring us the dog is child friendly.
Effie and the dog bond as the wheezing man and I discuss the magnificent weather.
He waits for his wife and two girls to catch up but they’re far more interested in licking ice-cream cones than in walking.
Eventually they draw level, he calls their dog to heel and they move off. We turn back to the Lido.
“I want one of those,” Effie says.
“An ice-cream?” I’m praying she’s not back on the quest for a dog. She’s very persistent.
“No,” she says. “A daddy.”
“You’ve got one,” I gently remind her. I’d hoped Mike turning up last weekend had placated her. I should have known better.
“Sorta,” she says and runs forward.
The Lido is busy, but probably not as bad as it will be later.
The shock of the water when we enter takes my breath away.
Effie squeals. Then she sets off in search of a water dragon and I follow behind.
We have a glorious time but as the cold begins to penetrate, we abandon the water to have an early lunch, wrapping our hands around mugs of chocolate to bring back the circulation.
After an afternoon rambling around the park, we head for home.