by Lucy Dillon
‘Oh, my God, he is adorable,’ breathed Natalie, unconsciously clasping her hands together with delight. ‘Look at his face! And his stumpy legs!’
Safe on Bill’s knee, Lulu barely turned her head, giving Bertie the faintest of superior looks before returning her attention to her new hero.
‘How old is he? Where did he come from?’ Natalie’s words were tumbling over each other as she pushed her hair out of her face, and she bent down to stroke Bertie’s velvety head. ‘Hello! Hello there, Big Ears! Hello!’
To Rachel’s horror, Bertie responded by sticking his nose into her designer handbag, followed by his entire head. But Natalie only laughed and pulled him out by his collar. ‘You won’t find anything in there unless you can unwrap Polos!’
‘He can unwrap Polos,’ said Megan. ‘And sausages, and KitKats.’
‘Oh, Jon, just look at these beautiful eyes!’ Natalie nearly had her head buried in Bertie’s neck. ‘How did something so cute end up here?’
Megan gave Rachel a swift glance. ‘Ah, Bertie’s a sad story. I won’t tell you because you’ll want to take him straight home, and you didn’t come here for your own dog, did you?’
Natalie looked up at Johnny, who was still sitting at the table. He had been smiling down at the clownish Basset hound, but something in his wife’s face made his expression turn sad.
‘No, we didn’t come for a dog,’ he said. He was speaking to Megan, but Rachel got the sense that his words were actually directed at Natalie. ‘We both work full time and there’s no way we could take him to work with us. I’m a teacher, you see, and Natalie’s a marketing executive.’
‘Does he need someone around all the time?’ asked Natalie. ‘Wouldn’t he be OK if we popped back at lunch?’
Megan shook her head. ‘Not a dog like this. Bertie’s a hound and they can’t stand being alone. He’d be howling like that all day, and he’s not really house-trained properly, so he needs someone to show him the ropes. Put him in a routine.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s probably why he ended up here in the first place, owners didn’t have enough time for him.’
‘Oh.’ Natalie looked crestfallen. ‘I suppose so.’
‘It’s for your sake as well as his.’ Rachel felt bad, for treading on Natalie’s enthusiasm. ‘He’d be unhappy and you’d have your neighbours up in arms.’
‘And your house trashed,’ added Megan, pragmatically. ‘Slobber up the walls, everything chewed.’
‘I thought you were trying to rehome these dogs!’ joked Johnny, but his voice was slightly strained.
‘We are!’ Rachel turned her attention to the successful rehoming of the night. ‘And it looks like we’ve done OK here?’
Bill dragged his gaze away from Lulu, now curled up on his knee, her ears pricked to the conversation. ‘Yeah, I think you have. I’m not sure I’ve really got much choice in the matter, though!’
‘Come on, Bertie, you’ve had your share of tummy rubs now,’ said Megan, pulling his front paws down from Natalie’s knee. ‘Back to barracks for the night.’
Bertie’s eyes refused to leave Natalie’s as Megan led him firmly towards the door, and he planted his feet so she had to haul him out, his paws dragging on the tiles as he gave a tragic whimper.
‘It’s like he’s crying!’ Natalie’s voice cracked. ‘He doesn’t want to go back to his kennel!’
‘Don’t be fooled by this performance,’ said Rachel. ‘I know he’s making out that we keep him tied up to a post in the pouring rain, but this one has a heated kennel, all the toys he can handle, a warm bed . . .’
‘But it’s not the same as a proper home, is it?’ said Natalie with sudden emotion breaking her voice.
‘Anyway!’ Johnny slapped his hands on his knees. ‘Lulu’s coming home with Bill, I take it?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Megan firmly. ‘We like you to sleep on it. Make sure you’re sure.’
Natalie was subdued as they drove home, and for once, so was Johnny.
Neither of them said much until she parked the car in the drive and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Johnny didn’t leap out to get the door open and the kettle on as he usually did. Instead, he sat chewing a hangnail – which Natalie knew was a dead giveaway that he was preoccupied with something he found too hard to talk about.
‘Are you thinking about that dog?’ he asked eventually, as the cooling engine ticked in the silence.
‘Yes,’ said Natalie.
‘Me too. But he’ll find a good home. Didn’t Megan say that pedigree dogs usually get rescued by the breed clubs? Someone’ll come for him.’
‘What if they don’t?’ She stared at the neat brick garage in front of them, and her eyes filled up with hormonal tears. All she could see was rows and rows of hopeful little faces, and wagging tails, begging for love. This was exactly the wrong time of the month to go looking in bloody rescue homes, she thought crossly, trying to regain some control over her lurching emotions.
‘We can’t have a dog, Nat,’ said Johnny. ‘You know we can’t. We haven’t got the time to give it.’
‘Well, have we got time to have a baby?’ Natalie knew she sounded irrational. ‘I’ll have to find time then!’
‘That’s not the same thing, and you know it,’ said Johnny, and opened his car door. It was a full stop but a kind one. ‘I’ll make the tea tonight, shall I?’ he added, trying to make up for it.
She knew he was right, but she still followed him in with a weight on her shoulders.
8
After three nerve-destroying days with Toffee, in which she’d barely left the house for fear of bumping into someone from work, Zoe thought she’d finally got the knack of watching him out of the back of her head. He was still far from toilet trained, but she was formulating a plan that would let her convince Marion the salon owner to bring him to work, until she got the phone call from her solicitor, and her carefully nurtured confidence was kicked down again.
Allen Howard had news about David’s maintenance payments that made her forget everything, including puppy puddles.
‘Sorry, can you say that again slowly?’ she said, sinking to the kitchen chair. Her knees had given way. ‘I thought he’d agreed to pay a lump sum – for the child support he didn’t give me over the summer?’
‘He wants the court to reassess his income in light of the recession. I know, it’s ridiculous.’ Allen Howard sounded embarrassed too. ‘But it’s within his rights.’
Zoe squeezed her forehead, and tried not to think about everything she’d stuck on her credit cards, in the expectation of David’s lump sum. The more patient Allen’s voice got, the more she wanted to cry. He sounded like her dad. Or rather, how her dad would have sounded if he were around to guide her through this horrible process. Part of her was glad he wasn’t.
Zoe felt painfully alone. When had she turned into the adult who was supposed to have the answers? One of the few things she missed about being married to David was having that other person there to ask. No wonder she was talking to a four-month-old Labrador.
‘Can he do that? Why would he do that?’ She grabbed her hair and twisted, an old habit. ‘He’s taking them to gold-plated theme parks every other weekend and buying new cars!’
Allen sighed. ‘You’re asking the wrong person, Zoe. You’d be amazed what some people will do. Divorce isn’t a nice business.’
Except for solicitors, she thought bitterly.
Zoe’s attention shifted as she spotted Toffee emerging from behind a chair, looking sheepish. His jaws were moving in a manner she’d come to dread.
Allen was still talking, his voice now concerned, as well as patient. ‘Zoe, I know you don’t like being tough but we’ve really got to take a hard line about this. I suggest you come in and . . .’
‘Hang on, Allen,’ said Zoe and made a grab for Toffee as he sidled past. With the phone jammed under her chin, she scooped the puppy up – he seemed to grow every single hour – and, fearing what she might find, rooted urgently a
round in his mouth with a finger, removing, in the nick of time, a puppy-choking chunk of Leo’s Lego.
Toffee gave her a baleful look and began chewing on her finger instead, his sharp teeth making red weals in her skin. Zoe bit her own lip to stop herself crying out.
‘He could end up leaving you with nothing,’ Allen went on. ‘And to be honest, I’m worried about the noises his solicitor’s making. Off the record, is he planning to settle down with this Jennifer?’
Zoe looked at the Lego, seconds from choking Toffee, then looked at her bitten fingers, which were throbbing, and then looked at herself in the glass of the kitchen cabinet. No make-up, wild hair, yesterday’s t-shirt, bags under her eyes that she hadn’t seen since her granny still roamed Barrow’s bingo halls.
When the boys were here, it was easier to ignore things in the never-ending series of questions and snacks and washing. But without that comforting buzz of white boy-noise filling her head, sharp realities poked through.
David’s not coming back. I am a single mother and I’m only thirty. I’m letting him get whatever he wants rather than fight back because I don’t have the energy to be vicious. And now Jennifer’s lining up to be the next Mrs Graham.
Zoe clamped her spare hand over her mouth, feeling sickness and panic rush over her. She put the puppy down, and he scampered to the other side of the kitchen, yapping uproariously, oblivious to her distress. ‘Um . . . sorry, I’ve forgotten the question.’
‘Look, why don’t you come in and see me?’ suggested Allen. ‘This morning – I’ve got a cancelled appointment. Jump in the car and we can go through this together. It’s a lot to take in.’
‘But I can’t leave the dog!’ she said automatically, panic filling her. This was going to take a lot longer than the forty minutes the book said she could leave Toffee without a loo break.
‘You can’t what?’ Allen sounded confused.
No, thought Zoe, it’s ridiculous. I can’t be trapped in my own house by a puppy.
‘OK. I’ll be there.’ She made a superhuman effort to pull herself together and began hunting for the hairbrush and Toffee’s training lead and collar. I have to do this, she thought, through the frustrated tears flowing down her face. I have to sort myself out for the boys. Even if it hurts like hell.
She put the collar on a wriggling Toffee, then looked at her tote bag, which sat capaciously on the kitchen table. If needs be she could always line it with a supermarket carrier.
‘Let’s call this your first socialisation lesson,’ she said bravely and he wagged his little tail.
As it turned out, it wasn’t one of Zoe’s better ideas.
Rachel had just finished putting the dogs back in their runs, and was heading for Dot’s kitchen, mentally relishing a coffee to unthaw her freezing extremities, when she heard the sharp sound of raised voices in the front office, and for once, it wasn’t the Staffies kicking off.
‘You’re not listening to me!’ cried a woman’s voice, shredded with distress. ‘I’m telling you, I just can’t cope! I can’t cope!’
Rachel caught Megan say something in response, and it sounded so unusually sharp that she hurried into the office without even bothering to hang up the leads on their usual hooks.
The woman from the pet superstore was standing by the front desk half-clutching a yellow Labrador puppy in her arms. The puppy was yelping, and tears were running down the woman’s face as she gabbled something to Megan and tried to push the puppy onto her.
Rachel racked her brains to remember the woman’s name. Had she told them?
She strained to hear what was being said, but between the yelping and the crying, she could barely make out a word. Megan was doing her best to keep calm, but the woman was in hysterics and it was setting off the rest of the dogs in the runs. There was also a strong smell of urine – and possibly something more pungent.
Gem was sitting upright in his basket, his head on one side as if he was watching EastEnders.
‘Please, please,’ the woman kept saying over and over again. ‘I’ve got to get back to work, my boys need me. You have to take him. I just can’t look after him the way he deserves.’
‘Let’s be calm here,’ Megan kept saying, to little effect. Zoe, ‘just calm down . . .’
Rachel found herself taking charge, just to get the noise to stop.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘Can I help you? Is this the puppy you were telling us about the other day? In Pet World?’
‘Please, you’ve got to take him,’ Zoe blurted out, before Megan could speak. ‘He’s a lovely puppy, and he deserves a good home but I just can’t give it to him. I mean, I’ve done my best, but I can’t take any more time off work to train him. I know it’s cruel to leave him all alone.’ Her face crumpled with misery. ‘Don’t make me feel worse than I already do. It’s bad enough working out what I’m going to say to my boys when they come home.’
Megan glanced at Rachel with sympathetic eyes, and Rachel saw Lulu’s fabulously empty kennel being refilled instantly, just as they’d managed to free it up. She shook her head, hard, at Megan and mouthed, ‘No!’
‘Then maybe you should give him back to your ex, and get him to return him to his breeder?’ she suggested hastily, dragging up a handful of Dot’s leaflets. ‘Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, Megan? Don’t they have that unspoken code of conduct?’
‘I don’t know where he came from,’ wailed Zoe. ‘And I don’t trust David – he won’t even provide for his own kids, let alone a dog! I’ve just had a meeting with my solicitor that—’ She sobbed. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve had a really, really bad day.’
‘Of course we’ll take him . . .’ Megan began, but Rachel interrupted.
‘Megan, be an angel and put the kettle on? I’m frozen.’ She rubbed her hands together and turned to the woman, who’d now sunk onto a chair, the baby Labrador still cradled in her arms. Zoe was obviously too upset to notice the damp patch on her coat, but Rachel spotted it. She spotted puddles everywhere. She was seriously considering a new Dragons’ Den career making puppy nappies. ‘Can we make you a cup of tea? You look like you need one.’
Megan gave Rachel a warning look but Rachel nodded firmly towards the kitchen, and reluctantly, Megan left.
Rachel sat down next to Zoe, and lifted the puppy’s paw up, as if they were shaking hands. The puppy gazed at her, his trusting brown eyes following her face. He has no idea he’s about to be abandoned here, she thought. He thinks he’s just having a trip out. A small pink tongue darted out and licked his nose, nervously. Rachel steeled herself not to fall for his cuteness.
‘Hello, Toffee. You’re a handsome chap!’ she said, stroking behind one hot ear.
‘Here, do you want to hold him?’ Zoe said, and before Rachel had a chance to reply she’d dumped him on her knee.
Instinctively Rachel grabbed the puppy to stop him falling off, and he shuffled backwards into her lap.
He was a lovely warm lump, she thought, as Toffee sniffed her clothes and skin, but almost immediately he started chewing on Rachel’s finger and she had to prise his jaws off her hand, trying not to wince.
‘Is he going through a chewing phase?’ she asked.
‘All the time,’ Zoe sniffed. ‘Chews everything. I know he doesn’t mean to, but I’m scared he’ll chew through a cable while I’m at work and the kids will come home and find him dead in the . . .’ She hiccupped and pushed her hair behind her ear, trying to sound calmer than she evidently was. ‘Sorry. I’ve just had a very upsetting meeting. My ex is being a bastard.’
‘All puppies chew,’ Rachel said, in a reasonable tone. She hoped it sounded authoritative, and not as if she’d just read it, which she had. Years in PR had taught her the art of sounding knowledgeable on the basis of a leaflet. ‘Just give him something to chew on. A Kong, or a teething toy. Pop him in his crate, and he’ll be fine. Look, we do some advice on crate training . . .’
‘I don’t have time to do that!’ wailed Zoe.
‘I’ve got to get back to work to feed my kids!’ She gazed miserably at Toffee, who was blissfully mouthing Rachel’s fingers. ‘He deserves more than we can give him. He needs to find a better home now, before he gets used to us.’
Rachel manfully ignored the pain in her fingers and focused instead on keeping the puppy out of her precious empty run.
‘Could you pop back home at lunchtime? Or hire a walker?’ she suggested. ‘Do you have a neighbour who could pup sit? Or maybe you could take him into work? One of our new owners has done that, in fact – he’s a doctor . . .’
Zoe half-laughed, half-sobbed, her composure now hanging by a thread. ‘You must be joking! I know Toffee looks cute but he’s a wrecking machine! He’s trashed my house in three days, and it normally looks like a bomb’s hit it already.’
Rachel furrowed her brow. ‘So why did your ex think it would be a good idea to get a puppy, if he knew you worked?’
‘Because David doesn’t think!’ Zoe sank her head into her hands. ‘Spencer’s wanted a puppy for ages, and it was easy for David to give them one, then let me deal with the shitty part. It’s typical of David! He wanted a family – he had us. He wanted a bit on the side – he shagged someone at work. He wanted to have us both, but at least he’s found out you can’t . . .’ A sob broke through her words, and she put her hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed.
Rachel felt a squirm of shame about the bit on the side, but she pushed it away. Fresh start, she told herself. This is a fresh start, no Oliver, no secrets, no guilt.
‘That’s rough,’ she said, and reached out a hand to pat Zoe’s. ‘That’s a lot to deal with. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.’
‘Sorry.’ Zoe wiped her eyes roughly. ‘God, this is so embarrassing. I had to take Toffee with me to the solicitors’ and he just peed everywhere, on some cables or something – caused a powercut to their computers, major disaster apparently.’
