Harry and Hope. Sarah Lean

softly.

      “Harry.”

      “Harry?! See, he knew this place was right for you. Freshest greenest meadow he’d ever seen in his life, that’s what you always say. And I said I’ll brush him for you, he looks kind of grey, and you said…”

      “He’s grey underneath that dust too.”

      We smiled at Harry, his head and eyes drooping with sleep, standing quietly beside me. We touched him gently and I knew it was impossible for either of us ever to be without him. Harry chose the meadow, and that put me and Frank together too.

      “You tell the story of Harry better than I ever did,” Frank said.

      “He’s like the reason for all of us being together, Frank.”

      I hoped that made sense to him and I think it did because he smiled in that way that made me feel even the whole world had nothing like we had.

      He spoke to Harry, like I was supposed to hear too.

      “What are we gonna do about you, Harry? You’ve still got some bad old habits, mate, and it’s just not good for you. I think we’ve gotten too used to each other and I’m not sure I can help you break them any more.”

      Sometimes you want to show someone that there’s a good reason why you’re together too.

      “I could help,” I said. “I mean, like you said, I am growing up and I love Harry. I could help him.”

      Frank leaned over to Harry and patted his neck, slowly running his hand down Harry’s nose, having the kind of conversation that only they could have without saying any words. Then Frank said to him, “What do you reckon, Harry? Do you trust Hope? Me too.”

      “Really? I’ll train Harry?”

      “That’s what I’ve been thinking. Nobody knows Harry like I do. It’s about time I let you in on that.”

      “What, like, me look after him? Me and Harry?” Beautiful, sweet, safe Harry.

      “How about we start now.”

      

      “See if you can put Harry in for the night,” Frank said.

      “What do I do?”

      “Wait here a second.” He strode ahead over to the bench outside the guesthouse and sat down. I guessed he was getting out of the way so that Harry and I could do this together by ourselves.

      He called, “Tap his shoulder twice, left shoulder, and he’ll follow.”

      I’d seen Frank do it a thousand times, but it’s not the same when you do it yourself and you haven’t realised it has to be his left shoulder and your fingers are nervous. Harry curved his neck around and looked at my hand. Like we didn’t speak the same language, not yet anyway.

      “Come on, Harry,” I said, and started to walk. He didn’t follow.

      I went back and did it again and Harry looked at my hand again, and I told him again, “Harry, come on, time to go inside.”

      Harry looked over at Frank, one ear up, one ear down. He stayed where he was.

      “Does he only understand Indian?” I said, which I realised was stupid as I’d never heard Frank use any other language.

      Frank laughed. “It’s not the words or your voice he’s listening to. You have to feel that you mean it, so he feels it too. Feel sure. Then he’ll be part of you.”

      Frank was about to get up and come back over. Of course that was what I wanted. Me and Harry, Me and Frank.

      “Yes! I can do it. Give me a minute.”

      Frank sat back down.

      “And I was only joking,” I called over. “About talking Indian, I mean.”

      “Take your time. He’ll be ready when you are.” Frank leaned back, rested one ankle on the other knee, his arm stretched across the back of the bench.

      I stood beside Harry, tidied his fringe. I didn’t want to disappoint anybody, including myself. I knew there was something between Harry and me that I had to find – what Frank and Harry had, what Peter and I had. When you just kind of fall in with each other’s footsteps.

      I looked over at Frank.

      If I looked after Harry, would I be completely in their world? Would that make it impossible for me and Frank and Harry to ever be apart? It was all I wanted. I’d never wanted anything so much, or tried so hard.

      I thought of me and Harry. Of us being like yoghurt and honey too. I tapped Harry on his left shoulder twice. This time, he followed.

      I couldn’t stop smiling at the little grey donkey, who was with me in a way he’d never been before. It felt huge and new and exciting.

      When Harry got closer to his shed, he went over to see Frank. Maybe Harry was just checking they were still best mates, or maybe he wanted to tell Frank in his nuzzly donkey kind of way that he was OK with the choice he’d made for me to look after him too.

      Frank sat forward, wrists dangling over his knees.

      “Good boy, Harry,” he said.

      Harry leaned his head over Frank’s shoulder. They said something else to each other again, but not in words or a language I understood, yet.

      “Has he got clean water?” Frank said.

      I checked inside the shed and ran back to tell him, “I filled the bucket up, right to the top. And changed the bedding.”

      Frank patted Harry, just like he always did. I loved that about Frank, how he changed things without anyone being left out.

      “G’night, Harry, mate,” he said. Magic words.

      Harry turned away and I took him into the shed, fresh with straw and an apple I’d left for him to chomp on.