Page 19 of The Good Boy

“I think I might need counseling,” Kelly says, after I’ve told her the whole sorry story. She takes a big long swig of premixed gin. “Why didn’t you wish for money, or... money?”

“Because I didn’t know I lived in a Disney movie,” I tell her.

“How could you not know your nan is magic?” Kelly asks. “Even my cousin Carole from the Penny Store knows your Nan is magic.”

“Because I’m a realist,” I tell her. “Or at least I was until I discovered reality is completely bullshit.”

“Your nan is famous for miles around!” Kelly is taking longer to get over this than she did human Rory. “Your nan told Keith Cundale where his lost wedding ring was, to the square centimeter. On the beach, Genie.”

“When you put it like that...”

“And you’ve always been a bit magic too,” Kelly says. “Or you used to be, anyway. Until you repressed it. And got back in the magic closest.”

“I have not,” I protest. “I did not. There is no magic closet!”

“Oh, isn’t there?” Kelly raises an eyebrow. “You always knew most of the answers on tests at school,” Kelly says.

“That’s called studying,” I say.

“You are better at forecasting the weather than the Met Office. Just by looking at the sky!”

“That’s the power of observation.” I shrug.

“And when it was the kids’ party, in the park, and it was raining, and they were crying, you looked at the sky and told the sun to come out,and it did.”

“That was dumb luck. I’m not magic. Not even a little bit magic.”

“Your art is magic, the landscape watercolors you used to make back before... well, you know. I’d look at them and I could hear the swish of the waves and the cry of the gulls. I could feel the spray of the sea.”

“Was that the time I had an art exhibit by the literal sea?” I ask.

“I think you are magic, Genie,” Rory says. “You made my life magical. Mostly.”

Kelly looks at him fondly.

“So are you all right, then, Roar?” she asks. Rory now has cream on the end of his nose.

“Not really, Auntie Kelly,” he says. “I mean, the food is good, but that’s about it.”

“Never mind, love,” Kelly says. “You’ll be all right. Your auntie Kel will help sort you out. And in the meantime you can come out with us tonight, have a few beers and drink away your troubles, in the time-honored human way!”

“No.” I shake my head. “Nooooo. Not a good idea.”

“Miles said you’d try this.”

“You spoke to Miles? Did you already know about Rory?”

“No, ’course not. But he said that you’d try to get out of your birthday. But not tonight, Genie. I don’t care if your dog is a man, we are going out. You are turning the big three-oh and I need a bloody decent flirt.”

“What about your Dave?” I ask her. “You do remember that man you married, right? About ten years ago? You made me wear pastel? Made a promise to try not to snog anyone else?”

“Sod Dave,” Kelly says, her bravado slipping. “I don’t think he even knows I exist anymore.”

Kelly had been low-key worrying about her and Dave for a while now. But it was a blip, it had to be, because Kelly and Dave have been together since they were ten and are forever, like Stonehenge or being on hold with the tax office.

“Things aren’t really that bad, are they?” I ask her. Recently Dave had changed, Kelly said. He’s distant a lot. Bought new underwear. Kelly’s convinced he’s having an affair, but she refuses either to ask him outright or snoop on him because, she says, she doesn’t want to know.

“I’ve tried to get us back on track, Genie,” Kelly tells megloomily, “but it’s like he’s checked out already. He never talks to me, doesn’t even watch telly with me. Comes in from work, goes to the pub, goes to bed. And there I am just wanting to be noticed. I’m bloody pathetic.”

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