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

by Zara Stoneley

  I could pay some kids, but there don’t seem to be any loitering about. Wagging school mustn’t be a thing in Cumbrian villages. Mid-week in school term-time, this place seems to be populated purely by ramblers who remember the Seventies. Or earlier.

  And they don’t look in need of a fiver to watch a dog that’s currently barking at its own reflection in the window, and smells like it has rolled in something that’s come out of another animal’s bottom.

  Which I think it has.

  ‘It would help if you’d shut up, Bella.’

  Maybe I should also carry air freshener so I can give her a quick spritz.

  After an early night, and a very good long sleep, I woke up this morning feeling full of energy and positivity – and ready for battle.

  Letting Bella out for a wee was (unfortunately) issue-free. Bor-ing.

  I have to admit to feeling a bit let down, and disappointed that Ash hadn’t appeared at daybreak armed and dangerous – or at least dressed in combat gear, face smeared with mud and twigs in his hair, either hiding in the bushes or wriggling his way commando-style across the lawn. Preferably semi-naked.

  I was all prepared. I had a makeshift water pistol (think washing-up liquid bottle), bombs (as in bath bombs – hard but presumably would crumble on contact, I want to scare not maim), and enough chopped-up steak and smelly fish to keep Bella on my side for as long as I needed. I googled ‘high value treats’ before I got out of bed this morning, and I can up his dog biscuits any day. Tomorrow I am making liver cake. Yeah, I have never in my life felt the inclination to bake – until now, for a dog.

  But the battlefield was bare. I even did some experimental poking with the handle end of the kitchen mop in the rhododendrons just to be sure. And I jabbed at one badly pruned collection of twigs with the other end, convinced they had to be hiding his head. Okay, some might say this was a bit unjustified, and possibly nasty, but he deserved it. It was his own fault – he left me to SLEEP when I’d been primed for a night of hanky-panky.

  Well, maybe not a night. An hour or so, or minute or two? How could he be so bloody noble and considerate? I’m not saying he should have molested my unconscious body, but he could have hung around for a bit while I had forty winks. Then tried to wake me. With a hot snog.

  And okay, it wasn’t his fault. He probably couldn’t have woken me up even if he’d stripped me naked, smeared me in chocolate, licked every inch of my body and prodded all my erogenous zones, I’m not exactly Sleeping Beauty. I’ve been known to sleep through thunderstorms, snoring my head off and resistant to anything but a kick in the shin.

  I am pissed off though. I was this close to a good shag.

  He probably would have been a disappointment. All his blood is probably diverted permanently to keeping those muscles in good working order, none left in reserve for the bit of his anatomy he keeps in his trousers. And he’s probably better at finding landmarks than erogenous zones, one of those men that can’t do anything without a map, GPS or full illustrated instructions.

  Anyway, whatever. He didn’t show up. I think he might have decided to leave us alone today.

  But I’m still not going to chance it. There is a chance he’ll be back and won’t have given up on his one-man mission. So, the smelly treats, a strong lead and harness and a pair of binoculars I found in the bedroom are now packed about my person. He isn’t going to sneak up and catch me unawares.

  I eye up the woman in the woolly hat, despite the warm sun, and consider asking her to hold Bella while I go in, but she turns away as though anticipating being roped into something by a weirdo.

  I could give up. Except I need that gingerbread. I promised myself that I’d get some. It is part of my Cumbrian experience. Along with Kendal mint cake, local gin, and Cumberland sausage. With the obvious exception of the gin, they are the tastes of my childhood holidays. Oh, and sticky toffee pudding. Must not forget that.

  When we came here as kids, visiting this shop was a bit of a ritual. It is the only place that sells this particular homemade gingerbread, which is why I’m now so determined to go in there. When I look back now, I can see it was more like bribery, but that’s parents for you.

  We were told ‘We’re going on a good long walk, so that we can buy gingerbread!’ with the underlying message that there was no way we could have the second without the first. Then there was ‘Super-long walk tomorrow, up a big windy mountain where we might lose you off the edge, but we’ve got mint cake to keep us going. First one to the summit gets the extra bar!’

  I was never first to the top, I have super-competitive siblings, who’d plan out the best route (even when they were still tiny children), so I insisted on extra categories such as ‘first one to the bottom’ and ‘one with the cleanest boots when we get back to the car’ (I was excellent at that – I’d have licked them clean if I’d had to).

  Abby and Daniel used to say I was cheating; I’d rather think of it as innovation and creative thinking.

  But even the thought of the spicy, amazingly scented gingerbread, and the super-sweet and mouth-tinglingly minty mint cake takes me straight back to those days when the biggest challenge in my life was how to get out of homework without actually lying.

  I can almost taste the ginger now. Maybe I could shove Bella in my rucksack? If I pull the toggles tight super quick, and race in and out, she won’t have time to bark or wriggle free.

  ‘Would you do it, for me?’ She’s not even listening. She’s gazing across the road, and then keels over. Flat out, on her side.

  Oh my God!

  ‘Bella?’ I bend down and practically scream in her ear. She flaps her tail weakly, lifts her head slightly so she can lick my hand, then flops back down. ‘Bella, get up.’ I tug her lead slightly, no response. Bloody hell, what have I done to her? Has she eaten something poisonous?

  Fuck. I don’t even know where the vet is, there’s a phone number at the house, but I’ve not got it on me. I should have. I should be prepared. Georgina will kill me. Ash will kill me.

  But she was fine when we set off!

  I touch her head, maybe it’s heatstroke. Do dogs get heatstroke?

  There’s a snigger. The old woman in the woolly hat is grinning, and just clapped her hands together! Bloody lunatic, she’s probably got heatstroke as well.

  Except her husband is now standing next to her and is smiling as well, and Bella has started to wag her tail with a bit more effort. She scrambles onto her feet, shakes, practically pushes me out of her way and then starts to leap around like a kangaroo. At Ash.

  He catches her mid-leap. ‘Clever girl!’ And they have a love-in. I’m jealous. Which makes me angry – along with the fact that I was really worried.

  ‘Can you do it again, honey?’ The woolly hat smiles up at Ash, waving her camera in the air. ‘My husband missed it!’

  I frigging missed it! Ash puts Bella down, forms his fingers into a gun shape, ‘bang!’ and down she goes again, as though she’s been shot.

  ‘You stupid idiot! I thought, I thought…’ My voice tails off, along with the clapping. Put on a brave face, Becs! I grin – though it is a fixed face-ache grin – and join in the ‘oh how brilliant’s. Then I stamp on his foot, jab him in the ribs when he gets close enough, and hiss. ‘What are you playing at!’

  ‘I thought you’d think it was hilarious!’ He chuckles.

  ‘About as funny as being made to jump into a lake!’

  ‘I only said…’ He does it again, raises his fingers and: ‘Bang! Didn’t you hear me shout?’

  ‘Stop it! It’s still not funny.’ He sobers at the look on my face. It wasn’t his fault. I shake my head and sigh. ‘I was miles away.’ Back in my innocent childhood days. I feel a bit stupid for panicking. What kind of moron can’t tell a dead dog from a dog playing dead?

  Bella is still bouncing. She always gets super-excited when she sees Ash.

  ‘Sorry.’ He looks a bit like a dejected puppy himself.

  ‘It’s fine.’ I wrap he
r lead round my hand a bit tighter.

  ‘Were you going to buy gingerbread?’

  I nod. He really has got the most gorgeous mouth. It’s mesmerising when you watch him talk. I’ve never felt the urge to watch somebody’s lips before.

  ‘I’ll go and get you some, an apology for scaring you. A peace offering!’

  This sounds excellent.

  ‘Hang on then, I won’t be a sec. Shall I take Bella in with me?’

  ‘No!’ It comes out as a slightly over-the-top yell; I pull her in protectively. What kind of a dastardly plan has he cooked up now? ‘They don’t let dogs in there. No dogs – look!’ I point at the sign.

  His dimples deepen. ‘Oh, they know Bella, they’ll let her in.’

  Of course they do. Everybody knows Bella. Bloody hell, I could have been in and out before he’d got anywhere near us and started shooting randomly.

  ‘She can stay here with me.’ I mean, can you imagine if he absconded with the dog, and my gingerbread? Complete fail.

  ‘Oh my God, that is good.’ The closest I’ve got to an orgasm in weeks. And I’m sure I was tantalisingly close yesterday, but we’ll forget that for now.

  We are sitting on the small bridge, legs dangling over the edge, Bella between us and I close my eyes so that I can savour the flavours as I take a second bite of the slightly chewy, spice dusted, slice of gingerbread. It’s not gingerbread like you get anywhere else in the world. It’s not a thick, bouncy soft cake, or a crisp biscuit, it’s a combination. I keep my eyes closed and sniff, letting the wonderful aroma take me right back to the last time I was here. We had some good times, even if sometimes I just wished I was more like Abby. Easier to be proud of, to be loved. Though I never felt not loved. Just not quite special. I was the unpredictable one.

  Abby didn’t feel special last time we were here though. It was hilarious. Poor controlled, perfect Abby (I’m not being mean; she just was like that as a child) was so cross she called me a stupid cow. Out loud. Not like Abby at all.

  I can’t help it, I can still see her standing there, all outraged. The snigger is out before I can stop it.

  ‘What’s tickled you?’

  ‘Last time I was here?’ He nods. ‘I pushed my sister Abby off this bridge.’

  ‘That’s a bit naughty!’ His smile is gentle, it softens his face and gives him a totally different look to the cheeky one, or the cross one, or the I love Bella one. He’s got an expressive face. Which makes it harder to believe he really is the lying, cheating, horrible man Georgina claims he is.

  Maybe she is just hurt. Maybe he hurt her. Maybe he isn’t a scumbag in the way I’d thought, he’s just a heartbreaker.

  That I can believe.

  ‘And what did your poor sister do to deserve that?’

  ‘Less of the poor! She ate the last bit of gingerbread.’ I’d been waiting for that last bit, was all prepared to eat it so slowly and savour every last crumb.

  ‘Ahh, fully justified then.’

  ‘Definitely. Although…’ I pause and look at him, his twinkly eyes dancing with laughter. ‘She did actually earn it, by being the first one to name some flower in the stream or something. But it wasn’t a fair competition, she knows loads more stuff than me!’

  ‘She’s older than you?’

  ‘Nope. Younger, so it’s even worse! Just a swot, she was bloody annoying actually. I suppose I should have pushed Dad in instead, for asking a question he knew I wouldn’t win.’

  It’s funny really, I did it partly because I was annoyed at her being right yet again, like any sister would be, partly because I just couldn’t resist the temptation.

  I guess sometimes I didn’t feel like we were completely equal. That other people just had to be comparing us. That my sister and brother were better than me. They were like Dad, solicitors in the making, so I guess I can understand why he leaned towards them. And me? I was always just different. Not like Dad, or Mum really. The daydreamer. The non-academic one. Bit of a bummer really. But it was just normal sibling rivalry. Until Teddy came along insinuating that things were different than they really were, when I should have been grown up enough to tell him to get lost. Instead of taking his side against my family.

  As kids, I never really felt the need to prove that although I was different, I was just as good. We had some really great, fun family times.

  It was Teddy who highlighted the differences between me and Abby. Who made a big deal of them. My parents weren’t criticising my choice of him, my life, they were questioning the decisions I was letting him make for me. And I took his side, I decided they just didn’t understand who he was and what he was doing for me. Teddy knew best. Not.

  Ash nudges me playfully with his elbow. ‘What question would you have won on? Not spot whether the dog is dead or not!’

  ‘Watch it, or you’ll be in next!’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’ He chuckles.

  I laugh back. ‘Try me!’ I must phone Mum and Abby more when I get back home.

  ‘If I go, then I’m taking you with me!’

  He would as well. His warm fingers dance briefly over mine, making me forget all about my family, then he pulls away again. ‘Fully recovered after your dunking yesterday then?’

  ‘I’m fine. Thanks for, er, putting me to bed.’

  ‘On the bed.’ He grins. A cheeky grin.

  I concentrate on my spicy gingerbread. ‘So, it was you who taught Bella to high five?’

  ‘It was indeed. She’s a clever pup.’ He ruffles her head. ‘The poodle side of her, smart gene. The spaniel side is all about the sniffing and the food.’ He kisses the tip of her nose. ‘I dropped my jacket up on the hills a while ago, I’d no idea where, but this one tracked it down.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Helped that the pockets were full of treats!’ Bella pricks her ears up at the word, then begs.

  ‘Are they now?’ I say suspiciously.

  ‘Of course! Never go anywhere without some liver cake, you never know when and where the opportunities might arise.’

  There’s the hint of smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but something tells me he’s serious. ‘You can’t have her, you know.’

  ‘She’s mine, I only want what is already mine.’

  ‘But you’ll have to sort that out when I go home. I promised…’ I don’t want to say her name out loud, saying it feels like it will spoil things. Although we both know who I’m talking about. ‘It’s between the pair of you, not me.’ Maybe appealing to his better side will make him back off? He’ll leave Bella until Georgina comes back. I can relax, we can relax, I can just enjoy seeing him – without the guilt. It’s like seeing the last piece of cake and knowing it is somebody else’s but you still can’t help thinking that you have to eat it, and worry about making up some story later.

  ‘I’ve waited long enough.’ It sounds like a warning.

  Bugger. He doesn’t look like this is negotiable. I might have to go back to plan A, sex slave.

  ‘You were right the other day when you said she needs time, but we’ve had time, she needs a clean break, not to be thinking any of this will change.’ His jaw has tightened. ‘We can’t rewind the clock. That’s not fair on her or me. Life isn’t about living a lie, is it? However much it hurts.’

  ‘I feel like piggy in the middle here!’

  ‘Sorry.’ There’s a strained smile on his face. ‘I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.’

  ‘You aren’t, it’s just…’ I’ve got a feeling it doesn’t matter what I say here. ‘You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?’

  ‘Nope!’ He lifts one eyebrow and looks very naughty indeed. ‘No way could I leave you alone, Becky.’

  I’ve turned the colour of a beetroot. I don’t want him to leave me alone actually, but that sounds soooo suggestive I’m worried he’s read my mind and my dirtiest fantasies about him. I need to change the subject quickly. ‘Hmm, have you been following us?’ If he has, I’m a bit worried. I thought I was pretty on m
y toes during our walk, and I didn’t even get the feeling we were being tracked, let alone heard anything.

  ‘Nope, just a coincidence.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘Again! It’s a small place and man cannot live on omelette alone.’ He grins, fully relaxed again, and the heat rushes to my cheeks. It feels like it is just the two of us. Conspirators.

  ‘We really should stop bumping into each other like this.’

  ‘Why?’ His question takes me by surprise. ‘Okay—’ he holds a hand up ‘—don’t answer that. Let’s not spoil our lunch.’

  ‘You call this lunch?’ I wave the final piece of gingerbread at him.

  ‘Yup!’ Before I can react, he swipes and it’s gone from my hand.

  ‘Don’t you bloody dare. If you eat that you are so going in that stream!’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare. My God, you’re worse than Bella when it comes to guarding food, and that’s saying something!’

  I put an arm round Bella and pull her closer. ‘Us girls are sticking together!’

  He splits the gingerbread, and we share the last piece.

  ‘Right, I guess I’d better leave you in peace.’ Swinging his legs effortlessly back over the bridge and onto the pathway, he stands up, dusts himself down then holds out his hand.

  It feels natural to take it, to enjoy the touch of a strong, warm hand. To allow him to pull me to my feet so that we’re practically touching.

  If we were lovers, this is the point at which we’d kiss – before walking off, strolling up the street in step, still holding hands.

  Boy, this is going to get tricky if I’m not careful.

  Or not. He has disengaged and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops as though to point out they’re out of bounds.

  ‘Enjoy the rest of your walk around the village, or what there is of it. I can recommend the sandwiches at the café further up the river.’