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July felt like the inside of a pressure cooker that had been on for hours. Of course, that meant Slot was doomed to retrieve the mail. Mail retrieval wasn't usually so bad, but the sickening heat made every venture outside feel worse. That was why he was so surprised to see Florrie follow him outside. She held an ice cream cone in one hand and wordlessly stood next to Slot, following him as he hurried to the mailbox and back.
"Where's Senor Fernando?" she asked after four minutes of silence.
Slot wouldn't have been worried if it was an adult. But four minutes of silence from any child below eight was an immediate red flag. "Senor Fernando…?”
Florrie sighed, crossing her arms as if Slot had committed arson. "The postman. Didn't anyone tell you?"
Slot facepalmed because of course that had been in the manual and of course he'd forgotten it. Well, he couldn't help it. Klopp had written twenty-one volumes about living in Kirkby in three years of its existence. "I've only been here for four days, Florrie.”
Florrie pouted at the same time her ice cream, subjected to the heat and sun rays, fell to the concrete with a loud splat.
Slot wasn't very experienced with kids, and especially not with these ones. But he knew enough about kids to know how to avert a crisis. "Go to the kitchen. I'll meet you there and get you a new one."
Instead of whining about her dropped ice cream or going to the kitchen to wait for Slot, Florrie followed him like a tiny shadow as he started up the hose (he still needed to read the map of the front yard to find the hose) and washed the pink remains off the pavement.
“Was that cherry ice cream?" Slot guessed, trying to make small talk.
Florrie shook her head. "Strawberry."
They got to the kitchen, where Slot located what looked like the right ice cream flavour in the freezer and proceeded to take some out for Florrie. When he placed the dish in front of her, though, Florrie barely moved.
“That's rhubarb."
Slot looked back at the container. Indeed, a bundle of rhubarb decorated the front instead of strawberries. "Oh. Sorry."
Florrie said nothing but poked at the ice cream. Slot noticed that the ice cube trays, which had been filled yesterday, were almost empty, and decided to refill them.
“Do you play?" Florrie asked him out of the blue.
Slot shrugged as he poured water into the ice cube tray. "I used to play, but I retired."
"I meant piano."
"Why?"
“I wanna do something for the boss. I miss him already."
Slot nearly dropped the bottle he held. It wasn't like he was shocked--from what he'd seen and heard, everybody had been upset about Klopp's departure--but hearing it from a five-year-old hit him differently.
He took a good look at Florrie. Her pink, ruffled fabric shortalls were the summery bright colour of the ice cream in front of her, and her hair was tied into bunches with ribbons the same blue as her T-shirt. Every centimetre of her screamed child, except the downcast look on her face. It wasn't the complaining kind of sadness one would expect from a little kid who'd just dropped her ice cream cone; rather, it was a sombre, quiet sadness, one that no small child should have weighing upon their shoulders.
“Have you...have you talked with anyone about this?" It sounded cold, but it was the safest option. He'd only been in the building for four days, after all.
She shook her head. "Everybody's been on vacation since forever. And Mummy's been tired all the time."
“Your siblings, then?"
“Winnie just got back from vacation, and Kai's been upset, too. Mummy doesn't need two sad children."
“She's your mother. If she has time for Kai, she has time for you, too, whether she's tired or not." Slot put the ice cube tray back into the freezer, pondering how to change the subject. "You'd asked if I could play piano?"
Florrie nodded. "Or guitar, or drums. Or anything."
“I'm sorry, but no. Do you?"
“I've seen Cody and Bobby play the piano, and Ali plays the guitar, but I don't know how. And Cody's still busy, and Ali's not back yet, and Bobby's in Salty Arugula—”
Slot tried hard not to laugh. Florrie was being serious after all! “You mean Saudi Arabia?”
"All the way over there!"
"Did the—” Slot stopped himself from asking about Klopp just in time. That certainly wouldn't have helped his case. "Does anyone else play instruments?”
"Diogo drums, and he and Marcinho play the six-o-phone. Robin has a bagpipe, but he's terrible at it, Lucho plays maracas, and Kostas is a DJ, whatever that means. I think it means 'Disastrous Joker' or something. Oh, and we all sing!" Florrie's face fell. "Especially the boss. He sang with us all the time. When we walked to school, when he was working…when we didn't feel good but didn't know how to say it."
And just like that, it clicked for him. "You want me to help you sing for the boss?"
Florrie's eyes lit up in the way eyes did when their owners had finally been understood. "Diogo taught me the song. He calls it a nerdcore song, but it's just a song. But it needs a piano…”
And I can't play the piano, Slot wanted to say so badly. But he looked back at Florrie, and his heart won him over. All she wanted was music. Plus, it was a piano, not a zither or a berimbau. How hard could it be?
He covered the ice cream dish with a plate and put it in the freezer. Then he took Florrie's tiny hand in his. "Take me to the piano."
*
The piano in Kirkby's music room was definitely not concert-hall level. The paint was chipped off at corners, leaving light flecks of wood among the lacquered black surface of the baby grand, and the red velvet of the seat was faded with wear and tear. But, Slot decided as he took a seat, it felt warm and homey.
That was, until he looked at the eighty-eight keys in front of him.
“I'm doomed."
"That's what I told Bobby when he tried to teach me." Florrie climbed onto the piano seat, scooting next to Slot. "But Bobby says that it's easy. You just have to press the key that makes the sound you hear. It's like a matching game with sounds."
She pressed a key, humming along to the note it played. "See?"
Slot took a deep breath and pressed a key tentatively, producing a sound that resonated gently through the room. He glanced at Florrie, who nodded encouragingly. Emboldened, he tried a few more keys, matching their tones to the melody Florrie hummed softly beside him. Soon enough, something took over him, and his fingers began moving on their own, and he could take his eyes off the keyboard long enough to look at Florrie.
Florrie's eyes widened in amazement, her mouth forming a small, delighted "O" as she watched Slot. After a few seconds, she started to sing, her voice like a tiny crystal bell ringing in the quiet room.
I'm sorry
For leaving you with only a few words to say
I know there could have been another better way
But I think of you from time to time everyday
And I miss you
I wish I could see you one more time again
And hear your lovely voice as we would play pretend
But now this message is too late for me to send
However, thank you
For seeing me the way I couldn't see myself
For being way too kind and giving me your help
And advices I never deserved
And I love you
I love you and I know that you have felt the same
I'm so grateful for that love you gave every single day
So this is to you
Sorry, miss you, thank you, and I love you
From the bottom of my heart
From my everything my all
And I know it's repetitive, but I'll say it once again
Sorry, miss you, thank you, and I love you
Now Slot recognized the melody. Holis had introduced him to the Clover album in 2022, back when the two were still in the Netherlands. The song was pure and sweet, with a hint of vulnerability that made it even more touching. He felt a surge of shock, hearing such a small child capture the song's tone so well.
“How'd you learn to do that?” he couldn't help but ask.
Florrie shrugged. “Everybody sings here, and Ali leads Harvey and the others in a choir. We all learned.”
Slot nodded; that made sense...until he thought about the idea of Alisson, who he'd heard was shy and rather anxious, leading a choir. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he let out a low whistle. He couldn't quite picture the reserved Ramses stepping up to lead a choir, but as he thought about it...
"Well, I guess people can surprise you," he said, smiling at Florrie.
Florrie's face lit up with a proud smile, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Yeah, he wasn't sure at first, but now he's really good at it!" she said enthusiastically, her tiny voice filled with admiration.
Then Florrie started singing again. Slot didn't know why or how, but he started singing along with her.
Sorry, miss you, thank you, and I love you
From the bottom of my heart
From my everything, my all
And I know it's repetitive, but I'll say it till the end
Sorry, miss you, thank you, and I love you
Sorry, miss you, thank you, and I love you