“They hate it. We don’t argue often though. I think because we’re not close in age.”
“Did you say your mum was Egyptian?”
“That’s right.”
“Does she speak to you in Arabic?”
“No. She only speaks it when she’s on the phone to family still in Egypt. Although, saying that, she does sometimes mutter in Arabic under her breath when something has pissed her off. Usually some kind of technology issue, like if the Wi-Fi goes wrong.”
“My dad is useless with stuff like Wi-Fi.”
“I think all parents are.”
“Are your parents in London, too?”
“They live in Oxford with their dogs,” he says, chuckling. “They have four rescues, the loves of their life. Mum just bought the oldest one a chaise longue.”
“Wow. That’s dedication.”
“Your parents have pets?”
“If you count newts as pets, then yes. My dad is building a pond and it’s become his new obsession.”
“That’s cool. I think I’d like a pond. Is he going to get koi carp?”
“No, newts and frogs are his main focus I think. How come you don’t know what a halibut is but you know about koi carp?”
“You remember me mentioning my therapist mate?”
“I do. The one who can’t stop analyzing you.”
“Yeah, and you should hear what she has to say about howI handle things with my sister.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, her parents keep koi at their home and they are awesome. Have you seen how big they get?”
“Oh my god, yes! They are huge! Maybe I should persuade Dad to get some koi.”
“They’re a lot of work apparently. Expensive to keep and you have to get the water right. You have to be careful of herons, too.”
“Maybe I’ll tell him to stick to the newts.”
“I do like newts,” he informs me. “It makes me think about that bit inMatildaby Roald Dahl where that girl puts the newt in Miss Trunchbull’s water. I found that hilarious.”
“You still do apparently,” I comment as he chuckles away at the thought. “I remember that scene. It’s why to this day I don’t like keeping water glasses by the bed.”
“You’re scared of newts creeping in in the night?”
“Spiders really. Imagine, you reach for your water in the dark, you take some gulps and unbeknown to you, a big old spider is in there.”
“That makes me feel sorry for the spider. I like spiders.”
“I respect spiders, but I don’t like them.”
He nods. “I can understand that. Like, you respect what they’re about, but you’d rather not have one in your water glass.”
“Exactly. Are you the kind of person that can pick up a spider with your bare hands to take it out of the house?”
“Yes, I am. How could you tell?” He narrows his eyes at me. “You can’t say it’s because of the beard. You’ve already used that for your stereotyping.”
“I think because you seem quite levelheaded. I can see you being calm and no-nonsense with spiders.”
