A Thousand Perfect Notes(44)

Beck would like to stab her right now.

‘Um, blue, I guess?’ He feels like an idiot. Favourite colour? Are they mocking him or genuinely trying to please August? She’s so much like her parents. All the jokes, the unreasonable big words, the quick retorts – she’s a carbon copy of her folks.

It scares Beck –

how much he might accidentally resemble

the Maestro.

‘Is your full name Beckham?’ Tammy says. ‘Like the soccer player?’

Beck is saved from answering by a mouthful of pumpkin and lasagne.

‘Maybe it’s Becktrove,’ she says absently, twirling lettuce on her fork.

August groans. ‘Mum. Firstly, no one’s name is Becktrove. Where on earth did that even come from? Secondly, I just said it’s not a good topic.’

‘Well what is a good topic?’ Tammy says.

What about nothing? What about silence, so they can pay the proper homage to the delicious lasagne? He’s nearly finished his piece before he realises everyone else has barely gotten through a corner.

‘Beck is a musician,’ August says.

Beck chokes. This serves him right for never being honest. If she knew about the piano, knew everything, then she wouldn’t touch the subject. But he can’t be honest.

‘He’s also in love with Twice Burgundy,’ August says, ‘although, strictly, he’s a classical man.’

‘I am a classical woman,’ Tammy says, holding her fork over her heart. ‘Do you like Bach? Chopin? Beethoven?’

August gives him a conspiratorial kick under the table and he whacks her right back. She yelps and then smothers her laughter with a huge forkful of lasagne. This girl is maddening.

Beck’s mouth is dry. ‘I like Grieg.’

‘Grieg!’ Tammy pokes her husband – with her fork, no less – and grins at him. ‘Most teenagers don’t even know who Bach is, let alone Grieg! He knows things, Shane, this one knows things.’

‘That was pointed,’ Shane says.

‘Yes, dear, it’s a fork.’

‘No, I mean the comment.’ He frowns at her over his half-full wine glass. ‘I was nineteen when we met and, fine, I didn’t know who Bach was. I thought you liked dogs. That’s why I kept hanging out with you. I liked dogs. You liked Bach, or whatever. We got married and I realised my mistake.’

‘You were both studying to be vets, Dad,’ August says. ‘The mistake was pretty acceptable.’

‘Thank you.’ Shane cuts his lasagne majestically. ‘See? That is why we traipsed across the state to find you, instead of adopting another child. We like how positive and encouraging you are.’

Tammy pops out of her chair. ‘Let me dish you up some more, Beck.’

He tries to say no thanks, to be polite, because he’s pretty sure he could polish off the dish, but his plate is already piled high.

‘Yes, feed him up,’ August says. ‘He gets super cranky when he’s hungry – I survived an attack once.’

‘You’re seriously mean to me,’ Beck says.

‘That’s why you like me.’

No, he likes her because there’s sunshine in her eyes and she knows the secrets to smiling.

Beck sets to work on his second piece and doesn’t answer.

‘Now, Beck,’ Shane says seriously. ‘I would just like to extend the invitation of dinner here, whenever you need it. I would also like to, well, if we could have a little talk before you go about your, ah, face and—’

‘I’m fine,’ Beck says. ‘This was just a stupid misunderstanding with some … guys.’ Could he be a more unconvincing liar? ‘I am really sorry for disrupting—’

Something in Shane’s eyes say he doesn’t buy it, but he merely holds up a hand and says, ‘Do not be. I refuse to hear apologies for gracing our fine home with your waif-like presence.’

‘Dad,’ August says, ‘that’s not very nice.’

‘Well, he reminds me a little of Oliver Twist,’ Shane protests. ‘Plus it’s nice to see some of August’s friends once in a while. She never brings them around.’

August starts clearing plates. ‘Because they’re all terrified of you. And your food. And our dogs.’

Beck stumbles to help her, although stacking other people’s plates comes with a mountain of pressure. He doesn’t want to be all thanks-for-the-meal-and-here-let-me-accidentally-drop-and-smash-all-your-crockery. So he goes for the plastic salad bowl and gingerly takes it to the kitchen. August laughs silently.

‘Why are they terrified of me?’ Shane looks alarmed. ‘If you’re referring to the time of Andrea and the python—’

August shudders. ‘Don’t rehash that story. Andrea doesn’t even talk to me any more, by the way. You scarred her for life.’

‘What about Sumi and Ajeet?’

Her nose wrinkles. ‘They’re busy, OK? At least I have friends. Beck over here is a moody hermit.’

‘Please, no,’ Beck whispers.

‘He has exactly one friend,’ August goes on.

‘Who?’ her father says.

She glares.

‘Oh. Oh yes. You.’

‘I’m glad you came to that conclusion so fast.’ She clears his plate while he’s still taking a last bite of garlic bread.