I poured the drinks and stepped out of his way. I glanced around the small kitchen; there was barely enough space for us. It was typical of old houses like this. It could have done with some modernisation.
“How long have you lived here?”
“All my life. It was Grandma’s, then she handed it to my parents. When they died, they left it to me.”
A homeowner at twenty-eight. I knew kids who would have killed to own a house outright at such a young age.
“It’s nice.”
The cupboards were oak with granite worktops. Harvey cooked on an old electric oven. How long had that been there? Beige tiles covered the floor. A back door led to a veranda, but I couldn’t quite see what was in there. This time of year, it was so dark that I couldn’t see out into the garden.
He tutted as he worked, muttering under his breath. “I’m usually so good at this. I’m fucking it all up.”
“Hey, chill, Harvey. It’s all good. I’ve got all night.”
“I know, but I wanted it to be right.” He put down the pot he’d been holding and faced me.
He tensed as I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Deep breaths. You know the drill.”
He looked tired, and I wondered how much sleep he’d got last night. Not much by the looks of things.
“I’m just stressed.”
“I know, and there’s no need to be. It’s just me. I’ve been living on Pot Noodles and crackers for the past week, so this is gonna be good whatever you do to it.”
A small smile crept across his face. There it was. I vowed to get a few more out of him this evening, but first, we needed to get dinner dished up.
“Now, let me help.”
He handed me a pan full of potatoes and a block of butter. “Can you mash?”
“Can I? I’m Irish. We love potatoes.”
A laugh burst from him. Not a giggle or a chuckle, but a full-blown laugh. The tension he carried ebbed away, and for the first time since I’d met him, he relaxed.
I remembered how he’d lit up when we talked about music and opened my favourite playlist. I pressed play, and the sound of Van Morrison filled the steamy kitchen. I sang as we worked, and before long, the pie was in the oven, and all the pans were washed.
“Now, that didn’t take long, did it?”
“I wanted to have it all done before you arrived, but I overslept, and then I had a quick session with my therapist.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, slightly concerned.
“Everything is good. I promise. Now, let’s take our drinks, and I’ll give you the tour. Dinner will be another half an hour at least.”
“Lead on, Macduff.” I gestured for him to go first.
“You know Shakespeare?” He looked a little shocked, but I wasn’t a complete heathen.
“Judgmental much? Macbeth is just one of my favourites. I can quote Bill with the best of them.”
I coughed and stood with my arm out, ready for my performance of the decade.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Okay, maybe I don’t know so much. That’s all I can remember of that one.”
“You did better than me. I failed miserably at school in English. Not one of my greatest subjects.”
Seeing him like this was like a breath of fresh air. What had happened to the distant introvert I met only last week?