“So,” he said, gesturing to Danny’s costume. “This is what English call ‘nervous breakdown.’ ”
“No, this is what the English call being entrepreneurial.”
“This is not French word?”
“Fine, it’s what the French call being entrepreneurial.”
“So entrepreneurial, this is French word for ‘nervous breakdown’?”
“No.”
“I am confused.”
“Look, I’m not having a breakdown, okay?” said Danny as he absently scratched at the dried gum on his furry belly. “This is my job now. This is how I make money.”
“People pay you to dress like idiot?”
“This idiot, he save your life!” yelled Ivana from the kitchen.
“He did not save my life!” shouted Ivan before switching to a barrage of Ukrainian. He turned to Danny. “You didn’t save my life.”
“I didn’t say I did.”
“Good. Because you didn’t.”
“If you say so,” said Danny, struggling to keep a straight face.
“So, people pay you to dress like panda?” He emphasized the last word so Ivana could hear.
“Not yet,” said Danny. “But they will. See, I was in Veranda Park the other day, right? You know the one with all those performers? Musicians and magicians and dancers and whatever? Well, I saw how much money they were making, and seriously, they are raking it in down there, even the crap ones, so I thought sod it, I’ll give it a go myself. Today was my first day.”
“And how it went?”
“Well, let’s see,” said Danny, beginning to count on his fingers. “I got mugged by children, I had all of my clothes stolen, there might be a video of me calling a little girl the Antichrist floating around on the Internet somewhere, a woman on the bus spat her gum at me, and I got strangled by a giant Ukrainian and whacked in the head with a broom. You know, typical first-day stuff.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Sorry, Danny!” shouted Ivana from the kitchen.
“I’ll forgive you if you lend me some clothes. I can’t let Will see me like this.”
“He doesn’t know you are panda man now?” said Ivan.
Danny shook his head. “He still thinks I work at the site. I don’t want him to worry.”
“About your mental problems?” said Ivan, tapping his temple.
“No, about our financial problems. I can’t afford to pay the rent and my landlord isn’t exactly the most understanding bloke in the world.”
“I tell you already, you need money, I find you job. I know many people.”
“Actually, do you know anybody who can get fake IDs?”
“Of course. What you need? Driving license? Passport? Sainsbury’s Nectar card?”
“I need a street performer’s license.”
“You need license to be panda?”
“Don’t ask. Can you get me one?”
Ivan shrugged. “I make some calls,” he said.
“Great, thanks, Ivan. You’re a lifesaver.” Ivan scowled. “Sorry. Touchy subject.”
Danny sneezed and fished around for one of the napkins that Krystal had thrown at him.
“Why you have servetka from strip club?” said Ivan.
“What?” said Danny as he wiped his nose.
“Fanny’s,” said Ivan, pointing to the napkin in Danny’s hand. “Is strip club. In Shoreditch.”
Ivana poked her head around the kitchen door and glared at Ivan, who seemed to shrink beneath her gaze. Danny looked at the napkin in his hand. The word Fanny’s was scrawled across it in pink looping letters.
“It’s a long story,” said Danny. Ivan smirked. “And, no, it’s not what you think.”
“What? I am not thinking anything.”
“Then stop smiling at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Look, just get me some clothes, would you?”
Ivan was still smiling as he heaved himself out of his chair and disappeared down the corridor.
Danny got up and went to the kitchen where Ivana was busy chopping vegetables. “That cake was amazing,” he said. “I literally had to hide it from Will so he wouldn’t eat the whole thing.”
Ivana put down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron.
“How is he?” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Danny sighed. “I wish I knew.”
“And you? How are you?”
“Do you really need to ask?” said Danny, looking down at his costume. They both laughed, but their smiles quickly faded.
Ivan returned with a pair of combat pants and an Angry Birds T-shirt.
“Here,” he said, handing the clothes to Danny.
“Are these Yuri’s?”
“Of course,” said Ivan.
“He’s twelve. I can’t wear a twelve-year-old’s clothes, Ivan.”
“You think you will fit into my clothes?”
Danny looked at Ivan and sighed. He unzipped the costume to his waist and pulled the T-shirt over his undershirt.
“Actually,” said Danny, flapping his arms to demonstrate the amount of spare fabric hanging off him, “does he have anything from when he was younger?”
* * *
Will arrived home a few minutes after Danny, who had only just swapped his Angry Birds T-shirt for one of his own when he heard the front door open and close.
“Hi, mate,” he said, popping his head out of the bedroom as Will and Mo walked into the living room. “Oh, hi, Mo.”
“Hi, Mr. Malooley. How was work?”
“Work?” said Danny, blanking for a second. Nobody had asked him that question since he’d been fired. “Oh, you mean work. At the building site. Where I work. Yeah, it was great, thanks, Mo. Well, not great but, you know, okay. Pretty rubbish, come to think of it. Just, like, lots of digging and carrying stuff and… are you staying for dinner? You’re more than welcome.”
“Thanks, Mr. Malooley, but Will’s coming to mine for dinner if that’s okay. We’re just picking up some video games.”
“Right,” said Danny, partly relieved because he didn’t have much food in the house, but also slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get to spend any time with Will that evening. They might not have much to say to one another, but having a silent meal with his son was still the highlight of his day.
Will stuffed some video games into his bag and nudged Mo towards the door.
“Bye, Mr. Malooley.”
“Bye, Mo. Have fun, Will.” He watched the boys disappear down the corridor, but Will didn’t turn around.
* * *
Danny threw the panda costume into the washing machine and filled the drawer to the brim with detergent. He turned the dial to the monster three-hour wash-and-dry setting that Liz sometimes used to use when Will was younger and had a penchant for rolling around in things that even dogs would think twice about. When the cycle finally finished, Danny cautiously sniffed the costume. It wasn’t quite as bad as before, but it still smelled as bad as he imagined a bear in the wild might smell, so he pumped it with Febreze until his finger cramped up and then looked for a place to hide it. He didn’t want to hang it in his wardrobe for fear that it might infect his other clothes, so he hung it on the back of the wardrobe door, which he then opened to conceal the costume in the small space between the door and the wall near the window (which he also opened).