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“Well, I’m just checking in. And I had to make sure Sinatra got home alright.”
As I leave, Ernie bends down to pat his little steak thief. Sinatra wags his tail and looks up at Ernie with wide-eyed doggy innocence.
I’m almost in the front yard when a tall figure, silhouetted by streetlights, blocks my way.
“Molly?”
“Yes,” I say, guardedly.
“It’s me, Cam.”
“Hey. How’s everything? The yard? The barbecue? Your house?” Cam steps to the side and I see his handsome face in the streetlight’s soft yellow glow.
“Right. Yes. Nothing serious and I had a lot of helping hands with the clean-up, so no harm done. It looked worse than it was.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” I say looking into his eyes. Then sensing our closeness in the half-light, I look away. “I, um, came to make sure Sinatra got home okay.”
“Little devil,” Cam says.
“Sure is.”
We laugh. Then I notice that Cam is holding something in his hand.
“I brought some food for Ernie. I figured he missed out on the barbecue, so…”
“Ah, that’s so thoughtful of you.” My heart melts. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I asked Ernie if he needed anything, but I get the feeling he doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Pride. That sort of thing.”
Cam laughs, “Yeah, my grandad is the same. He would rather starve than ask for help.”
We stand together for a moment before I say, “Okay, so thanks again for the fun time.”
“Listen, um, would you mind coming in with me?” Cam asks gently. “It’s just that Ernie and I haven’t met yet and, maybe, you being friends, and… Well, it might be better if you’re with me.”
“Sure. I don’t mind at all.”
Cam and I walk back into Ernie’s yard, then up the steps to the back porch. I knock on the door.
“Ernie! It’s me again. I have a surprise for you.”
Sinatra starts barking. Metallic scrapes of keys in locks suggest Ernie is opening up.
“Stop that noise, you mutt,” Ernie says as he opens the door. “Hey, Molly. Did you forget something?” Ernie’s expression turns to confusion as he sees Cam standing behind me. I step aside and make the introductions.
“Ernie, this is Cam Wickham. Cam this is Ernie Thompson. And Sinatra, you already know.”
Ernie shakes his head and looks remorsefully at the floor; his hands self-consciously fill his dressing gown pockets as if he’s not sure what to do with them.
“Mr Wickham, I am so sorry for my dog’s behavior. If you’ve come here for recompense, I absolutely understand.” Ernie stands tall in his slippers, lifts his chin. Eyes closed. One of his hands shifts position to rest on his heart with sincerity. “I’m happy to pay for whatever damage has been committed, to right this terrible wrong.”
“Mr Thompson. Ernie. Please. It’s fine. That’s not why I’m here.” Cam puts the cardboard plate wrapped in kitchen foil on Ernie’s table. “I’ve brought you this. Molly said you weren’t feeling great. And there’re some extra sausages, you know, for Sinatra.”
“Well, that’s mighty good of you, son.” Ernie’s eyes ping open. He beams a gappy smile at Cam and then at me. “I appreciate the thought. We appreciate it, don’t we Sinatra? He doesn’t usually act that way. He’s a good dog, aren’t you boy?” Sinatra wags his tail and grins at the foil-covered plate on the table. “Please come on in. Molly’s been telling me about your party.”
Ernie fills the kettle with water at the sink, strikes a match to light the stovetop, and offers to make us all tea. I decline, but Cam says, why not?
We sit on the mismatched wooden chairs around the table as Ernie makes the tea. Sinatra curls up and goes to sleep in his bed in the corner.
“Sinatra. That’s an interesting name for a dog,” says Cam, looking around our neighbor’s humble kitchen.
