‘Are you okay, you look a bit pale?’
‘It’s Stanley!’ The words spill out before I can stop them. ‘He’s in danger!’
‘What?’ He looks startled. ‘What kind of danger?’
‘Sorry, I’m being melodramatic, it’s that book, and the way you made me jump, and, well they’ve hurt him, well the cat did, but the vet thought it might have been them not the cat, and I need to kidnap him and make sure they can’t have him back.’
‘Who’s hurt him?’ Ollie picks the book up absent-mindedly, opens it at the page I’ve marked and skims over it. ‘Bloody hell I’m not surprised you’re jumpy, this is enough to give anybody nightmares.’
‘Even you?’
He grins. I’ve got used to his grin, it’s the grown-up version of the one he had as a kid. ‘Well obviously not me, but for a girlie-girl like you.’
I throw a punch, and he laughs, and easily dodges it. ‘See what I mean? Lightweight!’
‘You watch it, I’ll come and sort you out in the middle of the night!’ I wag a finger at him.
‘Promises, promises.’ There’s silence as his laughter dies and he puts down the book, as we both realise what he just said. Awkward. Even more awkward is the fact that I’m pretty sure I am now the colour of a pickled beetroot.
‘I didn’t mean, I meant, I …’
‘Reading this for business or pleasure?’ He’s better at recovering than I am.
‘Business, definitely business! Oh God, yeah, that book is horrible. Well in a good way, a brilliant way, it is brilliant, it’s just …’
‘Scary?’
‘Terrifying.’
‘Work going well then?’
‘Brilliant, apart from this book. I’ll just find the bottle opener for you.’
‘Why is it there?’ He looks perplexed as I fish it out from the drawer next to the sink.
‘I’ve rearranged things.’ Work really is going brilliantly, and somehow because I have to be more organised in the office it seems to be seeping into other parts of my life. Not only am I now filing things in the right folder on my laptop, I am also now filing kitchen utensils in more appropriate places. It’s confusing Ollie a bit, but he hasn’t complained. Yet.
‘Uncle T said you’d been in touch a couple of times?’
‘Uncle T has been ace!’ He really has. He’s dropped in the apartment a few times, when Ollie has been in far flung places, to check things are okay. ‘Did you tell him I was stuck with that romcom?’ I’d been trying to compare a modern day romcom with the classic novel that it mirrored, and the words just hadn’t flowed. Ollie had popped home to find me lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, the book open on my chest – waiting for some kind of inspiration, or divine intervention. I was easy either way.
‘Might have done.’ He smiles, slightly abashed. It makes him look cute, vulnerable.
‘He’s read so many books.’ I swallow away the dryness in my throat and bash on, talking rubbish, to cover my embarrassment at thinking of smart-arse Ollie in that way.
‘He sells them, guess it goes hand in hand.’ Ollie grins, as he pours us both a glass of wine. Luckily, he doesn’t look as cute now, just his normal self. I have to say through he does have very capable looking hands. I can quite imagine him leaning over a patient shouting ‘scalpel please nurse.’
‘Well not always, he really loves books, with a passion.’ I wonder if Ollie loves operating with a passion? ‘He’s quite a passionate person I think.’ I now realise that I hadn’t known Uncle T at all well before, but our regular grown-up chats since the start of the year have shown a whole new side of him. He really is a passionate person, he embraces life head on.
‘He has to be, with all those wives.’
‘I think he’s a true romantic.’
‘Really?’ Ollie raises an eyebrow.
Before, I used to laugh about Terence’s many wives, it’s a bit of a family joke. But I think it’s because he really loves, well, the idea of love. I’ve also started to think he’s chasing some ideal that he can’t find. He likes all his wives, and they all like him – even after divorce – but it’s almost like every relationship falls at some hurdle, leaves him slightly disappointed. I actually think Uncle Terence is like some tragic hero who found and lost true love and has been searching for something as good ever since.
But I don’t think I’m going to say this out loud to Ollie.
I also don’t think I’ll mention what I found hidden amongst Uncle T’s special editions, the ones he keeps locked in a cabinet, when I was rooting around for inspiration last Saturday. I’d been minding the shop for him, while he popped out.
I wasn’t snooping, honestly. It just felt out of a first edition of ‘The Great Gatsby’. I’d only picked the book up to stroke the cover, and a yellowing sheet of paper drifted to the floor.
It was a love letter. A love letter that brought a lump to my throat, and tears to my eyes.
‘My darling V,
Today is the day my heart was shattered into a million tiny shards.
Exquisite love brings exquisite pain, and exquisite is the word that has always suited you best.
Today you shone, your eyes alive with a joy that extinguished a light inside my soul. Today the diamond that flickered for the first time on your finger, was the dagger that tore my heart asunder.
Today I was transformed from lover to slave, when you chose another man over me. How did I not know that my time had run out? What kind of fool let’s another step in, because he has feared to step boldly into commitment?
I am no longer master of my emotions, I can no longer express my ardour, my pain, I must obey your wishes, admire your beauty from afar. Watch you with another.
Sorrow is not sweet, love in the shadows is no love at all. But my passion for you, my darling, is my purpose. Beneath my façade of indifference, the man that watched you go without a murmur, lies only my agony. You must know my sweetheart, that my soul, my essence, the very core of me can do no other than love you for all eternity. Without my passion for you I am lost. Without that I am nothing. An empty vessel of no use.
A life without you my darling, is a shadow of a life.
Darkness has fallen.
But still, I am yours for eternity, T xxx’
Oh my God, it was almost like a suicide note. A thwarted lover, a man whose lover had got engaged to another! And it had to be from Uncle T, surely? But he’d never sent it, which was confusing. Had he thought better of it? But why not throw it away? Or maybe he’d written it purely as a way of pouring out his emotions – like a diary.
Whatever, it was, it was obviously private. And I shouldn’t have read it. So I slipped it back between the pages, gently wiped the book down in case of incriminating fingerprints, locked the cabinet and pretended I’d not been anywhere near it.
I mean, how embarrassing would it be for Uncle T to discover his heartbreak was common knowledge? It’s the type of thing you share when you’re ready, isn’t it? And I’ve never heard anybody mention this before. And definitely not Uncle T himself.
And it was to V, which made me colour up when he came back and asked if I’d found anything of interest. V! V couldn’t possibly be Vera could it? If it is, this is scandalous – something you definitely wouldn’t expect from Ollie’s family.
But I mustn’t jump to that conclusion. Lots of people have a forename starting with V. Lots. Vera, Violet, Victoria, Vanessa, Vera. Bugger. It can’t be Vera.
Anyway, Uncle T has been a huge help with my book reviews. He’s not written them for me, but when I’ve been stuck he’s asked me questions about how the stories have made me feel which have made me understand so much more. He’s not so good with the movies though, he laughingly told me to talk to Ollie about that.
‘Really, he is. He’s in love with love I reckon.’ Terence also told me that he thinks Ollie is a romantic at heart, and that he picks girlfriends that he knows aren’t for him as a way of protecting his heart. They are
opposite sides of the same fragile male coin.
They make a right pair if you ask me.
Ollie raises an eyebrow. ‘Only you could come out with something like that, in love with love!’
‘Huh. Maybe I should ask Uncle T to help me with Stanley, except he’s probably not into this type of thing at his age and he’s got a reputation to keep.’ I look at Ollie through narrowed eyes. ‘Actually, you might be able to help.’
‘And I haven’t got a reputation to keep?’ He looks amused.
‘Oh, forget it, it was a daft idea.’
‘What? Come on, what are you up to?’
‘If I told you you’d either have to help or I’d have to kill you.’
‘I think you need to stop reading that book. Come on, spill. What’s happened?’
‘The people who adopted Stanley have been ill treating him.’ I pause. ‘Allegedly.’
‘Allegedly?’
‘The vet called Carrie because he was concerned. She’s taken him back, but she’s worried they’ll insist on her handing him over. They’ve already rung and had a go at her.’
‘So?’
‘I was thinking,’ I look him straight in the eye. I’m pretty sure I can trust him. ‘Of kidnapping him. That way, they will have to go through the proper channels and prove they’ll look after him properly to get him back and can’t just do a grab and run. And Carrie won’t know where he is, so they can’t bully her into telling. Obviously, I’ll give him back if she says it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Obviously.’ He grins. ‘And Carrie will tell you this, why? If she doesn’t know he’s here?’
‘She will tell me, because she may have her suspicions. Are you up for it or not then?’
‘Now?’ He looks at his watch. ‘I’ve got a flight to Barcelona first thing in the morning, medical conference, so it’s now or never.’
‘Well when you put it like that, I can’t just leave him, can I?’
‘Sure. See you back in here in ten minutes, I need to get changed.’
Well I hadn’t expected super-conservative, very sensible Ollie to react like that.
‘What if Carrie gets into trouble over this?’ Ollie as ever is being the sensible one. Though he is now dressed in black, ready for anything I’d say. He actually looks quite lean and sexy, maybe I should take a photo and send it to Frankie. She’ll never forgive me if I don’t.
‘She’ll understand.’ Deep down I’ve got this niggling suspicion that Carrie would be disappointed if I didn’t do this. And she didn’t actually ask me to, did she? So it can’t be her fault.
‘Got everything? Rope, torch, crampons?’ We are sitting in the car parked outside the rescue centre. He opens the door and the security light flicks on, his eyes are twinkling in the dim light.
‘Key!’ I hold it up and grin.
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have parked right by the entrance? Not exactly acing this undercover lark, are we?’
‘There’s nobody around for miles.’ I point out.
He shakes his head. ‘You could at least pretend we are on a dangerous mission!’
‘Shh!’ I put a finger to my lips. ‘You’ll set the dogs off barking and wake Carrie up!’
‘What about the light?’
‘She’s used to the lights coming on, they’re always being set off by cats and foxes. Come on.’
We tip toe over towards the entrance door, Ollie’s warm breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and sending a shiver down my back. ‘Stop it.’ I giggle, I can’t help it. It must be the adrenalin, the excitement, the danger of being caught – even though it would only be a very cross Carrie catching us.
The night air is still.
‘What’s that?’ Ollie hisses clutches my arm. ‘There’s a big dark figure!’ I shoot in the air and drop the keys.
‘Where, what?’ My heart is pounding, my voice sounds odd in my ears.
‘It’s okay, it’s a tree.’ He laughs.
‘Git! Sod off! You did that on purpose.’ I kick him on the ankle.
‘Ouch.’
‘Serves you right, God you haven’t changed one bit since you were six!’ I bend down to get the keys at exactly the same time he does, we bang heads, both glance up and our noses are practically touching.
He has changed. He’s changed lots. He’s got a hint of stubble, his nose is longer, leaner, not the funny little button nose he used to have. His chubby cheeks have disappeared, and now he has proper cheekbones.
‘Sorry.’ His word is soft, his fingers warm as they cover mine as we both blindly grope for the keys. ‘Sorry again.’ He pulls back as though he’s been burned and straightens up.
I must be overdosing on adrenalin, because my blood is buzzing in my ears and there’s a trembling in my body that’s making me feel all light headed. And I can still feel the touch of his hand on mine, even though I saw him snatch it back.
‘We better …’ I fumble with the keys, finally get them in the lock, ‘get a move on.’
You don’t need a torch to find your way round the centre. I’ve been here before to help Carrie tuck the dogs in at bedtime, and she has more nightlights than you’d find in a nursery. I think she must have been traumatised by the dark in her childhood.
‘This way.’ I motion him to follow me as I walk through reception, and down the first corridor. ‘Shit.’ I bang my knee on the fire extinguisher that I’d forgotten was there. This bit is really badly lit as there are no dogs in here. One dog barks. We freeze. Ollie breathes down my neck. He starts to hum the twangy bit from the James Bond theme tune in my ear, his warm breath bringing me out in goose bumps, the noise making me giggle. ‘Shh!’
I open the next door and can see the dimly lit dogs. Some are curled up tight, ignoring us. One or two are at their doors, wagging their tails, a collie has its head cocked on one side with a quizzical expression on its face. ‘Now, where’s Stanley? Stan, Stanley?’ I whisper into the gloom.
‘Christ!’ Ollie jumps as a terrier launches itself at the front of the pen barking furiously. He careers into me and I stagger backwards, falling against the pen on the other side of the corridor, where what looks like a massive St Bernard barks. The sound echoing around the room.
It’s like a domino effect, all I can see as I glance down the corridor between the pens is mad terriers leaping in the air, and spaniels madly trying to dig their way out to get at us.
‘Shit.’ We clutch each other. Then I can’t help it, I start to giggle again.
Ollie puts his finger on my lips, which makes it worse.
Then all the dogs start to bark.
My God, it’s like meal time.
We spin round, back to back, as though we’re in some action movie surrounded by the baddies. The barking gradually dies away, a small terrier having to have the last word.
Then a Chihuahua adds a comment, and the terrier has to retaliate.
All is quiet.
No lights come on. No doors open.
‘Shit security here, isn’t it?’
I nod. Trying not to grin. I reckon Carrie has seen us on the CCTV, turned over and gone back to sleep. But I’m not going to tell Ollie that, I’m having far too much fun.
We tiptoe our way down the corridor, peering at the ghostly dogs – some have gone back to bed, some are watching us warily, one or two are pressed against the front of the pens.
‘They want cuddles!’ I want to, I really do. ‘I want to let them all out and have a mass love in.’
‘Don’t you dare!’ Ollie has his stern, business-like look on.
‘Bossy doesn’t work with me.’
‘Don’t I know it!’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Back to Bethlehem, are we?’
‘No.’ I shake my head, trying not to laugh. In my head it’s worse, my past and present have alarmingly collided – and I’m not even drunk! I can just imagine him in his white coat, stethoscope at the ready as he peers at a patient, and it’s me. He leans even closer, too close for a consultant, and
kisses me. So I hit him over the head – with a bedpan.
‘I know that look on your face. I don’t want to know!’
A yelp reminds me why we’re here.
It’s Stanley! His little skinny body is squirming like I’ve never seen it do before, he’s panting, spinning in circles, so excited he can hardly bark.
‘Oh my God! Stanley! Come here, you.’ I shove Ollie out of the way, open the door and clamber into the pen with the little dog. He’s in my arms, licking my face, nibbling my ears, kissing my lips and then he’s off. He hurtles out of the pen, down the corridor, then spins round, his legs going in all directions and he speeds back up, past us, does a wheelie at the end then starts to chase his tail.
I want to cry. I think I am crying.
‘Aww, Daisy.’ The look on Ollie’s face isn’t humour, it isn’t horror at my outpourings, it’s so gentle and warm it sets me off again. He gives me a quick hug, rests his head against mine briefly, then pulls away. ‘Come on, we better be off.’
We do not make a dignified, stealthy exit. Stanley is wriggling like crazy and trying to jump into my arms – but when I lift him up, he jumps down again, weaves his way around my legs and sends me crashing into Ollie, who falls against that flaming fire extinguisher, before somehow ending up sitting in the fire bucket which is full of sand. ‘I really am going to have to tell Carrie to tidy up her fire precautions.’
Ollie pulls himself back to his feet. ‘And her security.’
‘I think she turned it off tonight.’ We share a smile, then Ollie gets into the driving seat of the car, and I get into the back seat with Stanley. No way, can I stop cuddling him and drive.
We’re back home in minutes, and I still can’t stop hugging and kissing Stanley as Ollie opens the front door and ushers us in.
‘I better get some shut eye, I need to set off for the airport at 4 a.m.’
‘Thanks for helping.’
‘No probs. Night, night Stanley.’ He ruffles my hair, fondles Stanley’s ears and heads for his bedroom.
‘You don’t er mind having a dog here?’
Four Christmases and a Secret Page 14
