Page 64 of Break the Ice

‘That’ll be his ears, I think the ears are his best feature,’ I say. She hovers there and I realise that she is not moving away, she wants to engage. This is the joy of Steve. Normally this woman would have likely walked past me, but the dog is a conversation starter, a people magnet. I’ve already chatted to an old man at a bench, toddlers have stopped to pet him, a woman asked me if he was a shepadoodle. I didn’t know what that meant.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Steve.’

She laughs. ‘That’s amazing. And do I detect an accent there?’

‘I’m American. New Yorker. Joshua,’ I say, putting a hand out for her to shake.

She shakes it enthusiastically. ‘Penny. Bit of a change of scene,’ she adds. ‘You work here then?’

‘At LSE. Yourself?’

‘I’m a teacher. A maths teacher,’ she replies.

I smile. I like finding other numbers people in the wild. ‘That’s my department. I’m a research fellow in maths and geometry.’

‘Oh my, that must be interesting.’ She stands to face me, smiling kindly. ‘I actually have students looking to apply there. I’ve been trying to get a contact for ages. What does your research involve?’

I hesitate for a moment because no one ever asks me that question. Phoebe jokes about it. I think my own parents change the subject when I bring it up. ‘Spectral theory of hyperbolic surfaces.’

‘Ahhh, I remember that from my university days, eigenfunctions and the Selberg Trace Formula,’ she says, laughing.

I freeze for a moment, amazed. The only other people I speak to in math live in my lab and we nerd out on numbers and geodesic currents. ‘Where did you go to university?’

‘Cambridge,’ she replies. I sigh so loudly that my breath fogs the air. ‘Funny how a run in the park can turn into a cerebral conversation about geometry with a kind stranger and his dog,’ she goes on.

‘Yeah. Well, if you ever need that contact at the university or your students ever want to talk then I’d happily put you in touch with someone in admissions.’

‘That would be amazing,’ she says, getting out her phone. Oh, she wants my number. Is it really this easy to meet someone? To start a conversation and bump into someone with similar interests. This feels fated. However, I suddenly realise Steve is looking up at me. I’ve not seen that annoyed look on his face before. Is he going to barf?

‘My number is zero-seven-seven—’ Steve starts to bark. ‘Hey bud, I’ll just be a minute,’ I say, and look around. Has he seen a squirrel or a cat? I take a treat from my pocket and slip it to him. He downs it and then starts barking again. Actually, it’s not quite a bark. I recognise this sound. We heard it in the car before we discovered Stevie Wonder. ‘Five-five-two… or maybe you can find me on Facebook. Joshua Abelman.’

Penny looks down at Steve. Any thoughts she once had about him being cute seem to have dissipated. People start to look over at the sound, other dogs whine at the perceived threat. Steve looks at Penny and his nose is all wrinkled, his eyes wide. ‘Is he OK?’ she asks.

‘I think it’s the standing still. Maybe if we keep walking?’ I say. I’m slightly confused at Steve’s vibe. I’ve seen you go into pubs and charm a whole group of Zumba women, you like kids, you’ve been the most amenable dog I’ve ever met. Yet here he is in this park looking really razzled by something.

‘Penny Colman. I’m also on Facebook,’ she tells me. ‘My profile picture is me on a pier in Brighton.’

I realise I might have to change my profile picture as mine is me dressed as a Rubik’s cube. ‘I can’t remember what mine is. But just look for my face.’

‘I will.’ She takes a swig from her water bottle and I wonder what to say next. There’s a little café just over the hill. I try to find the words to ask but am also wondering if it’s too presumptuous given we’ve just met. Please, Steve. Enable this. For me. But he doesn’t. He looks up at us and continues to bark. He needs to stop this or people will think we’re stealing him. He pauses for a moment, clearly realises he’s not getting our attention, and cocks his leg up. Against hers.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ she squeals, her tone and mood changing completely. ‘Can you…’

‘Sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Steve!’

She jumps back, shaking her leg. I have no idea what to do. Do I offer to wipe it? I don’t have tissues. It’s cold. That won’t be comfortable. I glare at Steve, and stand there aghast. That is until she sticks a foot out to kick him.

‘Whoa, hold up. Don’t do that,’ I tell her, stepping back and pulling Steve’s lead to shield him.

‘The little bastard peed on me. On purpose.’

‘He’s a dog. I don’t think that’s how it works,’ I say. ‘You can’t just go kicking animals.’

‘Well, maybe you should have better control of that damn animal,’ she lectures me.

Steve looks up at her and barks at her sharply.