The Dog Sitter: The new feel-good romantic comedy of 2021 from the bestselling author of The Wedding Date!

by Zara Stoneley

  ‘Well, maybe.’ I look at him a bit doubtfully. ‘If I have time, I can’t promise…’

  ‘No pressure, no pressure. Just a thought! Wonderful to be busy, my girl. Wonderful. No worries, pop in though if you’re passing and we can have a chat. Always nice to chat to an artist.’ He taps my shoulder, then points at the picture. ‘You must show Ashley that. Splendid, splendid.’ He peers closely at the picture one more time, and with a brief wave he turns and heads back the way he came. I listen to the snapping of twigs as he goes.

  ‘What do you think, Bella? Bella? Oh, Bella!’ Bella, who has been sniffing along the bank, isn’t interested in my pictures, she is interested in the water. With a plop she lands tummy-deep, then turns to look at me, her tongue hanging out as though she is laughing. I can’t help myself; I laugh back. ‘I’ll have to video you so I’ve got something funny to watch when I go home, you’re better than any YouTube vid!’

  She wags her tail as though she approves, causing ripples.

  ‘Oh Bella, come out you little horror! Sugar, hang on, it’s my phone. Don’t move, no, no…’ Bella starts to splash her way up stream, then reaches the end of her long lead and turns back. Bouncing along like Tigger.

  ‘Becky?’

  ‘Hi!’

  ‘Becky, can you hear me? It’s Ben.’

  I can hear him, but it doesn’t sound like he can hear me. I stand up. Drat, the phone reception round here is really patchy. ‘Ben?’ If Ben needs to talk to me, then this is important. He is the senior designer for a big publisher. I trust him, I like him, and I’ve been relying on him to keep sending work my way. A lot of the commissions might not be exactly what I want to do, but they will pay the bills for now.

  Okay, there is one hitch. A major hitch. He works for the same publisher as Teddy. And they often work together.

  I try to ignore the prickle of unease.

  Life would be so much easier if I could cut ALL ties with Teddy, but I can’t. I have to be sensible. It would be professional suicide. I need the work.

  ‘I can hear you now… breaking up a… that cover des…’

  ‘Ben? I’ll call you when I get in?’

  ‘Ace, need… will email you with editor’s sugges…’

  I’ve lost him. I slip the mobile phone back into my pocket and look down at the very soggy doggy, who has jumped out of the stream and is now shaking herself all over my legs, and my blanket. From the few words that I managed to hear, I got the message. Bloody Teddy has been sticking his oar in and tweaking my covers again.

  This just isn’t fair. Even out here, I can’t escape him.

  I mean, I can take constructive criticism, I’m happy to make changes, but Teddy seems to request alterations for the sheer hell of it. My cover matched the brief, the author was happy, the editor responsible for the book was happy, the design team were happy, the marketing team were happy, and now Teddy has chipped in. But it has nothing to do with him!

  Actually, now I come to think about it, he’s a complete control freak. He has to stick his oar in everywhere. And he’s always tried to control my career. But Ben was happy with the cover I’d done, I’m sure he was. And now all of a sudden there’s a problem.

  I can feel the throb in my temples, the start of a headache – and I’ve not had one of those since I got here. The feeling of panic on my chest is creeping back as well.

  This isn’t fair. I swallow to ease the lump in my throat, suddenly feeling tearful. I’ve come here to escape, get kick-started. And how can I do that, with the shadow of Teddy lurking in the background? Editing my life.

  ‘This is what I was trying to escape!’ Bella wags her tail and licks my hand, then shakes, hard, showering me with water. ‘Oi!’ I jump back, but she follows, shaking again. Making me smile. ‘Oh Bella.’

  The lump in my throat eases. It’s impossible to stay wound up when you’ve got a playful dog.

  I must not get upset about losing the type of work I’m trying to get away from. If Ben doesn’t want me, then that’s fine – even if it is fucking annoying that it’s Teddy that has upset things.

  Being here was about cutting down on the work that wasn’t my first choice, spending more time on the stuff I really want to do. Taking the commissions that I want to take. That is what’s important.

  I sniff and blink away the self-pity as Bella sits in front of me, staring.

  ‘Maybe your Mr…’ I fish the card out of my pocket. ‘Mr Simons is right. Maybe I need to paint you and all this.’ Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, so it looks like she is smiling approval. I sigh. ‘After I’ve fixed this cover.’ To be honest, now I’ve stopped to think about it, let’s face it, my heart isn’t in it. Since I arrived here, I’ve been more drawn to sketching what is around me, rather than some abstract idea.

  I’m now going to have to send in some totally different alternative ideas (that’s what ‘we love it but could you just tweak…’ means) based on the same cover brief.

  I’d rather paint flying fish and unicorns, or Tolkien-style creatures that live in the mountains that cradle the lake. I would, I really would. And I am good at them. I am.

  And Mr Simons loved my picture today, so I can’t be total crap, can I? Even if what I’m good at isn’t ground-breaking, it’s still worthwhile. It’s still art.

  As we head back home the idea grows on me – not the creatures in the mountains, the pictures for the art shop.

  Bella lags behind every few yards to sniff, then charges ahead and nearly drags the leash out of my hand (and my arm out of its socket) when she spots a bird, or a rabbit, or a leaf, or something that might or might not have moved. But I hardly notice.

  I really should use this month to take at least one foot off the treadmill. Be a bit pickier about the work I do. Do some stuff of my own just for the hell of it, just for me.

  Or just for Mr Simons.

  Some part of my brain recognised I needed a break and brought me here. And now the rest of me needs to catch up and embrace the opportunity.

  I need to stop being so bloody half-hearted about this! For heaven’s sake, I’ve got a full month. A whole month in this amazing place, with this gorgeous puppy, and Grasmere gingerbread, Kendal mint cake, local gin and… well, hills to climb. Real hills, not just metaphorical ones.

  I can’t just spend the time doing the same-old, can I?

  My mouth starts to twitch at the corners and my pace picks up. I’m striding along before I realise it, Bella bouncing at my heels.

  Magic flying ponies are where it’s at, monsters in the lakes, kingfishers (blue ones, very definitely blue ones), muddy dogs chomping daisies, scenery. Glorious chameleon-like scenery.

  Not covers for books that fashion dictates have to be a plain colour with a blob in the middle. Because it’s intriguing. Meaningful. In!

  I don’t need to be ‘in’, I don’t need the pressure of trying to make my blob in the middle look slightly more eye-catching than somebody else’s.

  The last few years have been all about my career. Now don’t get me wrong, that is how I’ve wanted it – but I think I’ve been barking up the wrong tree, or rather straying up a dead end. I’ve been working all hours, and for what? To please other people. People like Teddy – who could pull the plug any time anyway. Well, let’s face it, he has, hasn’t he?

  Going freelance was supposed to be about artistic freedom, balance, making my own choices. Maybe this month should be all about reminding myself of that.

  I slow my pace to a dawdle. Except I need to check my bank balance first. Not-so-artistic blobs pay a lot better than pretty illustrations – which is why I let myself be led that way.

  Honestly, falling for that old chestnut, sacrificing my artistic integrity for money! Ha! But I’m not stupid; in fact, I’m pretty sensible, and I’m not cut out to live in a hovel eating baked beans out of a tin, because of some idealistic dream. I’d grown out of that by the time I graduated and realised just how competitive life was.

  ‘Argh!’ Bell
a suddenly starts barking and lunges forward, snapping me right out of my daydreaming, and nearly snapping my neck as I take a dive. ‘Bloody hell.’ I clamber back onto all fours, then slowly pull myself onto my knees and brush my hands off. ‘Ouch.’

  Bella shows no sympathy. I think she’s forgotten I am attached to her. She is staring into the trees, wagging her tail like crazy, straining against her collar.

  I peer in the same direction, hanging on tight to the lead. For a moment I swear I can see movement in the bushes. Man-size movement.

  ‘Rubbish. I’m imagining things.’ I get to my feet and look at my grass-stained knees, and then over to Bella. No way can it be Ash stalking us, can it?

  They are the only drawback to this perfect little escape. Georgina and Ash. Talk about drama. I came here to chill, to work, to get away from all the relationship angst – and have ended up dropping headfirst into somebody else’s. I could do without it. But what’s the alternative?

  ‘Come on then Bella, let’s get home. I think we both need a bath!’

  I also think I do need to get a bit fitter. I’m panting and I’ve let a little pooch pull me over, and I’ll be absolutely no match for Ash if he runs off with Bella. Maybe I need to ask my SAS man for some more tips? Maybe I do need a ‘how to get fit in four days’, or something like that? But without doing any more of his bootcamp sessions.

  It’s not worth it. Not even for the opportunity to see him in tight T-shirt and shorts.

  Nope, definitely not.

  Well. Maybe.

  Chapter Eight

  Mistake number one. On a whim I send Georgina a photo of Bella so she can see her in all her soggy glory, before I dump her in the bath.

  Rather a silly whim, it turns out.

  ‘Oh my God, you can’t take photos like that!’ She’s Skyping me while I’m still grinning at the funny picture.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t post it anywhere, tell me you’ve not posted it anywhere, please. Swear you’ve not put it on Insta.’

  ‘Sorry?’ The woman is crazy.

  ‘If Wuff Togs, or Plush ‘n’ Tangle Free see something like that I’ll lose my sponsorship, it’s so off-brand.’

  ‘Off-brand?’ I don’t mean to sound scoffing, but I’m sure there’s a hint of it in my voice. Bella loves the outdoor life and is as far from a pampered pooch as you can imagine. I want to say it, but I don’t.

  ‘God, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry for shouting at you.’ Her voice has lost its aggressive edge and she looks like she’s about to burst into tears. The sudden change makes me feel a pang of guilt.

  ‘It’s okay, she’s your dog, and I didn’t mean…’ Sugar, what have I done now? She could be in the same kind of situation as me. She needs her income from Wuff Tangle or whatever they’re called, and she’s scared of screwing it up. ‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t…’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. Really. It’s just…’ She sniffs and wipes her knuckle under her eye. ‘Oh shit, I didn’t mean to…’ She puts the palms of her hands over her face and sits for a moment obviously trying not to cry. I feel awful. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ When she looks up again her eyes are red and there’s a wobble in her face. She takes a deep breath. ‘Sorry, it’s not fair to saddle you with my problems. I’m not usually like this, I… it’s just everything’s going wrong, with Ash, with Bella, and oh my God, oh just promise you’ll keep her safe for me? Don’t let him have her? Please? I couldn’t cope if…’

  ‘I promise, I promise I’ll keep her safe. I’m sorry, I just thought you’d like to see her happy, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘I do, I do want to see her happy, I love seeing her happy! But you’ve seen my account, that’s my life Becky, not, not, not…’ She’s waving her finger in Bella’s direction. ‘My life isn’t supposed to be a mess!’ I’m sure she is welling up again now at the sight of her perfect pooch looking all bedraggled. ‘My life is supposed to be like my Insta account. It used to be; it was so perfect.’ She bites down on her lip and looks so upset I want to hug her. ‘Nothing like this has happened before.’

  That Instagram account, that perfect representation of her life, is as important to her as my art is to me. She loves Bella, clearly, and it must be hard to leave her with somebody else. Especially with the threat of Ash taking her. ‘I promise I won’t put the photo online, anywhere. It was just for me.’

  ‘The whole Ash thing is bad enough; I can’t lose Bella.’ She sniffs again.

  ‘It’s okay, okay.’ Oh gawd, I am getting all hot and bothered. I need to be upfront with her here though. Mistake number two coming up. ‘Talking of Ash, er, he came by again yesterday.’ Never mention a hated ex when a woman is already upset.

  ‘What do you mean?’ She’s gone pale.

  ‘He was in the garden when I let Bella out for a wee.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, he, er, said she’s his as well as yours.’

  ‘What? I asked you not to let him in!’ There’s a hint of panic in her voice.

  ‘I didn’t let him in. He said he came through the gate.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  I feel like I need to reassure her. ‘I think he just wanted to see her, to play with her?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have done this, should I? I should have brought her with me, or taken her to a dog-sitter somewhere else or something?’

  ‘Maybe if you’d explained, and I’d known what to expect?’ This is potentially a mess, but it’s my turn to feel panic. I don’t want to be sent home early! I love being here, I love looking after Bella. And I quite like seeing Ash. Though something tells me I should steer clear where he’s concerned, this sounds like it’s messy enough already. ‘Look.’ I don’t want to say this, but I have to. ‘If you want me to take her somewhere, to lock up and go home, then that’s fine.’ Not that I have a home to go to, so that could be an issue.

  ‘I’m sorry Becky, no, no I don’t mean that.’ Phew, thank heavens for that. ‘It’s just whenever anybody mentions his name, I get so, so… Oh Christ, you know how it is.’

  I’m not sure I do. But I do know she’s upset. ‘Oh fuck.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’ I turn around, so that she cannot see Bella, who has just dashed back into the house at high speed.

  Okay, call me stupid, but I didn’t close the door behind me. I was too busy fielding the call from Georgina. So Bella, soggy Bella, slipped out. And it looks like she found a mud bath. Or made a mud bath. She is caked in the stuff. And she’s now doing zoomies round the kitchen, showering the cupboards (and me) with goo, plopping her big fat hairy paws all over the cushions.

  I am sure this is not on-brand behaviour.

  I think she might have dug a very big hole. Like I seem to be doing. Maybe I do need to go home. To my own life, my depressing, terrible… no! I don’t want to go home.

  ‘I’ve got to go; Bella needs her paws wiping.’ Wiping? That has to be the understatement of the century. Oh my God, what has she got in her mouth? It looks like a dead rat.

  I hold a hand out – not that I want it, but you have to show willing. She play-growls, shakes it and takes a step back. Then chomps.

  Shit. Can dogs die of eating rats?

  ‘I suppose at least she likes you,’ Georgina says reluctantly. ‘We’ll see how it goes for a few days, shall we? And if you see Ash, you can tell him…’

  ‘I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk to him?’ But I’m talking to a blank screen. She’s gone. And so has Bella. She’s dropped the rat, grabbed my flip flop and managed to dodge past me and out of the kitchen.

  I can hear her trampling about upstairs. So much for clean bedsheets. I scramble up after her, narrowly missing banging my head on the low beam, and missing her as she dives through my legs and back down.

  Sugar, I bump back down on my bottom and dive into the lounge just as she abandons my shoe and grabs the rodent again.

  Bugger.

  She drops her prey in the mi
ddle of the cream sheepskin rug and dodges past me.

  Luckily, when I edge closer, I see it’s not a rat. It looks more like a sock. The sock I couldn’t find when I got dressed this morning. Flaming dog! She’s the naughtiest, most mischievous animal I have ever known. It’s a good job she’s so cute and funny.

  My phone beeps with a message.

  Sorry, bad connection, I’m sure you’re doing your best.

  Hmm. I’m not sure how to take that. Do I detect a hint of sarcasm? But I haven’t got time to work out if it’s nice or nasty. I dash upstairs. Bella is curled up in the middle of the bed, with my flip flop in her mouth, play-growling. There’s mud spattered everywhere. Bugger. It’s going to take me hours to clean the place up. Practically the whole house. I take a step nearer, and she jumps away, flip flop gripped firmly in her teeth.

  This is so not what Georgina’s Instagram account is about. Or Georgina’s perfect life.

  I think that’s it though. Yes, this place is amazing, but is the life she’s portraying in those photos a little bit too perfect? Before I came here, I’d had the impression that Georgina had it made. A polished career girl with the perfect dog, the perfect house, the perfect man. I was so envious of her.

  And now the man is her ex and she’s scared she’s going to lose so much more.

  Like I have been. Maybe we’re not so different after all.

  Okay, my life was never as perfect as hers, but everything was kind of going in the right direction.

  Until somebody threw a massive spoke in the works. I’ve been scared that it’s all crumbling around me, and maybe Georgina is too.

  Bella suddenly interrupts my thoughts as she dives past me, and back down the stairs. I catch up with her in the lounge and grab the end of the sock. She growls. I mean, I know it’s play fighting, but she is not going to let go. I try and prise her jaws open, but she’s got a grip an alligator would be proud of.