The noises coming from the mobile get louder as I pick it up. Then nearly drop it again.
‘What the actual fuck!’ yells Georgina at full volume, leaning in so close we’re almost eyeball to eyeball. ‘Don’t you fucking dare, Ash James!’ She drops her suitcase with a clatter and moves back so I can see her again. She is hopping mad. Literally, moving from side to side as though trying to see past me. ‘I knew it was you, you… you… you wanker! You promised you wouldn’t!’ I flinch, but she’s not paying much attention. She’s wagging a finger wildly. I think that’s aimed at the gardener, not me. ‘Get my dog off him!’ If I thought she was slightly hysterical before, it was nothing compared to this. ‘For fuck’s sake Becky. Get her! What am I bloody paying you for!’
Er, I didn’t think dog-protection was my brief. And I’m not actually getting paid. I don’t think now is the time to correct her on that though, so instead I just mouth at the gardener.
‘She’s not paying me.’
He takes a step back. Shit, if he tucks the dog under his arm and makes a run for it there will be no competition, he’ll be miles away up a mountain, before I’m out of the starting gate.
I lunge forward and grab a paw. Bella squeaks.
‘Let go!’ It’s a warning growl. From the gardener, not the dog. I think he’s used to being obeyed.
‘No way!’ I tighten my grip, counting on the fact that he won’t be prepared to leave a paw behind. For a second, I’m a bit worried he might do (army types are probably used to limbs being dismembered and can apply tourniquets) as we have a bit of a tug, with Georgina screeching in the background.
‘I’ll kill you if you let him take Bella, I’ll write a crap review!’ Second part hardly relevant if first part applied. Though not a good obituary. ‘I’m not even out of the fucking country, you underhand wanker.’
‘I’m only taking what’s mine.’ He is talking through gritted teeth, and there is absolutely no hint of a smile on that granite face at all. It should be scary, but it’s actually quite sexy. I think the pure air out here must be affecting my brain, or it’s all the stress. ‘You never said you were getting a house-sitter!’
‘It’s none of your business what I do! We agreed! Get your hands off her. You total tosser.’
‘Or what? You’ll call the police?’ His voice is even lower than it was before, but it is even and measured. A shocking contrast to Georgina’s hysteria. Except to be fair, he’s here, holding on to the dog, and she’s stuck in an airport relying on a total stranger. Me. ‘Georgina, be fair, you didn’t tell me you were going—’
It’s Georgina’s turn to growl. ‘Shithead.’
His gaze shifts up to my head, and there’s a hint of a smile curling the corner of his mouth when my hand goes to check there’s no more left up there. For a second, I think we’re both going to break into hysterical laughter (well, mine would be hysterical, his would be deep and manly) which would send Georgina off the deep end.
‘Wanker!’ This girl has quite a turn of phrase. But for heaven’s sake, I need to put a stop to this. I came here for peace and tranquillity, a break from drama and stress and flaming exes, and my head is already about to explode with pent-up frustration.
Enough of being nice, no way is my job to be peacekeeper. My job is to look after the house. And Bella.
Though it looks like Georgina’s had some kind of altercation with the gardener, and he won’t be a part of the landscape. Shame.
‘Let go yourself. Now!’ I bellow, surprising the dog, the gardener and even myself.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. This is ridiculous, you’re upsetting her. Have her.’ He shoves Bella at me. ‘But I’ll be back!’ It’s not even remotely Terminator-style, but I giggle with relief and clutch the dog, as he marches off. Bella whines and looks dejected. I think she wants to run after him. I sympathise.
I really do need a stiff drink now.
‘What’s he said to you?’ Georgina is still bleating as I go in the house, put Bella on the floor and firmly close the door. And lock it. ‘He’s a lying toad, what’s he said?’
‘Nothing, he didn’t say anything apart from what you heard.’ I feel drained. My sparring with absolutely anybody pales into insignificance compared to this pair.
‘I’ll die if he gets Bella. He’s already ruined my life enough! What did he tell you? It’s all lies!’
Ruined her life? Did he dig up a shrub he shouldn’t have? Chop up too many logs? I am mystified.
‘He won’t, and he hasn’t said anything you didn’t hear,’ I repeat, trying to reassure her in a soft voice. ‘And I’ve locked the door.’
‘Good.’ She calms down instantly. Picks up the handle of her wheelie case and straightens her hair. ‘He’s the third thing on the list.’ She pauses. ‘That’s my ex.’
‘That’s your ex?’ I think my tone has gone up a pitch. I struggle to dampen it down and sound normal. ‘He’s your ex?’ Ex. I roll the idea round in my head. I suppose the reaction was a bit extreme if he’d just been the hired help. Landscape gardening doesn’t normally cause ructions like that.
Why didn’t I realise earlier? I blame being exhausted from the early start and crap drive over. And stress. Most of which came over the phone from Georgina. She is not a chilled person.
‘Yes.’ Her voice is tight. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let him in the house.’
‘What?’ Don’t let him in the house? But yay! He’s her ex. Not her current. But boo, he’s persona non grata. Not allowed in the house. That’s a bit of a bummer.
I might have to shag him in the bushes, haha. No, no why am I even thinking that? Definitely not. Be sensible and act responsibly, Becky.
‘He might come back, he’s been really kind of…’ She pauses. ‘Weird.’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘And nasty.’
‘Oh.’ Gawd, I’ve come here to escape bloody drama, not to fend off angry ex-boyfriends.
‘You saw what he was just like! He might try and steal Bella.’
‘Why?’ I am puzzled. Why would an ex-boyfriend steal a dog?
‘Oh, you know.’ She waves a hand. ‘To get at me because I’m happy.’ She spits the last word out. Not much happiness there then. ‘She’s not his, whatever he just said. She’s mine. And he’s a loser. He won’t leave me alone, you know?’
I don’t know. Nope. Never had a problem with exes not leaving me alone.
‘He’s power-crazy.’ I have had a problem with that. ‘He’s been coming out with all this shit about Bella being his just because he knows how important she is to me. So don’t let him near her again, will you, whatever he says. Right? He was always playing bloody favourites, playing rough and tumble with her and giving her food. God.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Some people have to be so competitive about everything, y’know? So fucking childish. In fact, don’t talk to him at all, that’s probably best. And don’t tell him where I am or anything.’
As I don’t have a clue where she is, this won’t be a problem. ‘Er fine, yes.’
‘Ignore him if he gets arsey.’ Arsey, arsey? What does she mean, arsey? How will I stop him doing anything if he gets… arsey? ‘It’s all a big act.’ Easy for her to say when she’s about to jet off, maybe this is why she’s gone? ‘He’s a dick, what can I say?’ She shrugs. I’ve tried that ‘nonchalant, I don’t care’ shrug myself. Never comes off.
Trying too hard to pretend she doesn’t care. I feel a sudden twinge of sympathy.
‘Look, I need to go, I’m going to be right at the back of the bloody queue now because of all this.’ My sympathy fades slightly. ‘And I need to know I can rely on you.’
‘Sure,’ I straighten up and try to look like a person that can be relied on. ‘Of course you can.’
I put the phone down and sink into a seat. Then I remember I need the loo, desperately, and I don’t even know where the bathroom is yet.
I search it out, sit down and take a deep breath. I’ve always found the bathroom a good place to think.
So, the
gardener has a name. And he’s not a gardener. He’s her ex.
Ash.
I roll the name round, and then say it out loud. Bella cocks her head on one side. She followed me here and I hadn’t got the heart to shoo her downstairs. As long as she doesn’t come in too close and rest her nose in my knicker gusset then I’m cool with it.
‘You like Ash?’ She wags her tail, staying at a polite distance. Cool.
Am I really not allowed to even talk to him? That’s a bit over the top, something really big must have gone off between the two of them. Oh my God, this is so not fair though, I want to meet him again. Just to have a proper look, to see if he’s been Photoshopped to death, or somebody can actually look like that in real life. I mean, tussling over Bella’s body didn’t give me the opportunity to have a proper look.
I could barely see his chest, or his stomach, which in the photo was toned and flat.
And why am I not allowed to even talk to him, or let him talk to the dog? That must have been one hell of a nasty breakup.
Unless he actually is a bit of a psycho stalker, like Georgina said.
I mean, I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to judging men, do I?
‘What do you think, Bella? You like him, don’t you? I bet you could tell a few secrets. No?’ Bella, who seems to have accepted me quite easily as dog-sitter and guardian, observes from the doorway as I sit on the loo.
Dogs are normally good judges of character.
It’s a bit weird. This whole situation is a bit weird. Including the bit where I’m talking to a dog.
But whatever Georgina said, he did say he’d be back, so it’s not my fault if I have to talk to him, is it? Even if it’s only to tell him I can’t talk to him.
Although it is all a bit worrying, having a possibly psycho, arsey ex (who looks like he could shoot people for a living) threatening to return. Maybe I should concentrate on that bit, not the fact that he’s arse-clenchingly gorgeous. And I should think about the danger in a bad way, not find it exciting in a way that is making my stomach tip over with anticipation.
Though that could be hunger, or the fact I’ve not dated since before Christmas.
Not that Teddy ever made me feel like this.
Maybe I need a drink to calm my nerves.
And a lie-down. I’m overtired. Obviously.
Bella edges nearer, and I wag a finger at her then look her in the eye. ‘And we need some rules, don’t we?’ She makes a low rumble, then barks. ‘Bloody hell, and I’ve got a dog that talks back too. I get the last word, not you, right?’
She barks again.
I’m not sure I’ve got the upper hand here.
Bladder relieved, I sit down at the kitchen table to read the note that Georgina has left. Not that I can really be bothered. I’ve had enough of her instructions for one day. But I do have a duty of care, a responsibility. And I do need to know what I should and shouldn’t do.
Points 1, 2 and 3 have been covered by her in some depth (and volume). Lock up, don’t lose the dog, don’t let the sexy ex in the house. Got it.
There is more. But it’s all a bit less interesting.
Details about the heating (which I won’t need – it’s early June and the weather is gorgeous) and the internet router (which is erratic), the hot water (also erratic), what time Bella goes to bed, where I can walk her and where I can order groceries. Apparently, there is a spare key hung in the utility, a front-door key in the inside of the front door (presumably left there to stop anybody with lock-picking capabilities) and a button to open the front gate.
A quick poke around reveals that the fridge has been filled up with wine and other essentials (for me – maybe she’s not so bad after all), the utility room has been stocked up with dog food (for Bella – ‘she only eats this one, she’s an ambassador for the brand’) and there’s a folder that has emergency numbers and a list of favourite dog walks. There is also a hell of a lot of dog paraphernalia – coats, leashes, one very, very long lead, harnesses, collars, towels, cushions, toys – how much stuff does one little dog need? When I was a kid, our dogs had a collar, leash, bowl and bed.
I pour myself a glass of the wine Georgina has left in the fridge for me – it would be rude not to – then have a proper snoop around the house. Bella follows my every step.
It’s quite nice actually, her constant presence. I don’t feel like I’m alone, in the middle of nowhere. I feel fine.
The place is as fantastic as it looked from the outside, and on all the Instagram posts. The perfect retreat – if you ignore points 1, 2 and 3 on Georgina’s list, and try not to get in a panic that her irate ex is going to climb through the window and do something to get his own back. Wine helps calm the panic.
The kitchen is the real deal. The polished Aga that Bella curls up by in the photos, a fantastic chunky oak dresser complete with a pretty jug of country flowers, stone floor and big wooden beams. Oh yes, there are wonderful chunky beams throughout the whole place.
The woodburning stove in the living room has a pile of artistically arranged logs, there’s a cosy window seat where you can sit and read or stare out across the lawn at the wonderful view, stacks of books everywhere and oak floorboards that look the genuine article.
There’s even a little study, complete with large desk and light streaming in – the perfect spot to doodle.
I can already feel the tension ease its way from my body and a calmness take over in my head, stilling the clamour of voices and doubts. This is better than any massage or hot-stones treatment ever. And did I say? It is peaceful. Not a sound except for the gentle waffling snores of Bella (who has now decided she doesn’t need to keep an eye on me and can settle down for a doze). But I know she’s there, and even out here in the middle of the countryside I’ve just realised I feel comfortable, at home. Not at all lonely.
The best bit, when I climb up the narrow, steep staircase (ducking to avoid the low beam), has to be the bedroom.
I have to sit on the bed to look out of the low window, but boy, is it worth it. The views really are something else. Waking up in the morning is going to be amazing – I’m going to go and have another look in a minute. Once I’ve finished unpacking.
I also want another look at something else.
Don’t judge me. I settle down with my drink and scroll through Georgina’s Insta to see if there’s more than one guy on there, and to check out those photos of her ex again.
Just to be on the safe side and recognise him immediately if he comes back. Haha. And nothing to do with the fact that I now know he’s an ex, not current.
I mean, I might have forgotten what he looks like, yes? I don’t want to cosh the wrong man over the head now, do I?
While I’m thinking about coshing, it suddenly dawns on me. How did he get in? There’s a bloody big gate at the end of the driveway. Which closed behind me – locking me in.
Maybe he snuck in, commando-style, behind my car? Hitched a lift on the roof of it, while I was busy messing with my satnav? Or he put a brick in the way so that the gate couldn’t close completely?
I must double check that it’s shut. And mention this to Georgina. When I’ve finished this drink. ‘What do you think, Bella?’ Bella stands up and barks, wagging her tail, and then makes a beeline for the back door.
‘You need a wee?’ She barks again. ‘A play?’ Her tail starts to wag so fast I can feel a breeze. I smile. I can’t help myself. It looks like it is time to have a wander round the amazing garden.
Chapter Four
I think this is what exhausted but happy means. I might be having the most stressful, knackering day ever but this view changes everything. I know I have made the best decision of my whole, bloody life!
A few days ago, I was close to packing in work, murdering my ex-boyfriend and his frigging newly discovered, absolutely amazing (unlike me) cover designer and drowning myself in pink gin. But today I reckon I’ve found the right place to discover my inner zen. I will be calm; I
will have inner peace and learn to love my work again. Probably.
This landscape is incredible. Way, way more stunning than I remember as a kid. Well, kids don’t tend to list ‘stunning’ as a bonus, do they? It’s more about ‘exciting’, ‘brill ice-cream’, ‘great hideouts’.
But now I reckon I can see why Mum and Dad brought us here.
It feels like this place is pulling me in and wrapping itself around me. I mean, wow, just wow. And I can handle hugs from nature, which don’t make me feel like bursting into tears of self-pity or hitting somebody.
I sit down and curl my fingertips into the lush grass of the emerald lawn, which gently meanders its way to the lake below. The lake is something else. Really. I reckon I could sit here for hours, transfixed by that blank canvas of water which mirrors the clouds and the yellow, brown, green and silver-grey of the mountains that wrap around it.
‘Oh Bella, aren’t you a lucky little dog, living here?’ She is lying down at my feet but looks up at the sound of her name, head cocked slightly on one side and brown eyes fixed questioningly on my face.
There’s a strange, floating, ever-changing feel about the view – a softness of blended colours which should be at odds with the harsh stone of the mountains, a subtleness in the way the clouds form changing shadows that lift out some features and mellow others, as though the landscape is a watercolour that is still being painted.
A work in progress.
Like me.
I’ve never seen anything quite as stunning in my life before, though. It is fluid, gentle and awe-inspiringly wonderful.
The Dog Sitter: The new feel-good romantic comedy of 2021 from the bestselling author of The Wedding Date! Page 4
