by Lucy Dillon
Rachel toyed with the mental image of a lovely cottage somewhere, mortgage-free, and money in the bank to tide her over for a while. In all honesty, she couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted – some mornings she woke desperate for her old life, some nights she went to bed buoyant with happiness at the thought of one more dog and one more new owner neatly matched up. It was impossible to work out which reaction was real and which was hormones, when even the sound of birdsong could reduce her to tears.
‘I need some time to think,’ she said. ‘I’ve been run off my feet arranging our Open Day. Well,’ she added, in the spirit of honesty, ‘I’ve had a lot of help. It’s been one pile of admin after another, but hopefully it should kickstart the kennel business for Megan. Then if I do decide to sell, it’s a going concern.’
‘Ah, yes!’ Gerald’s face lit up. ‘The Open Day! Our secretary had a letter from . . . is it Natalie, your new sponsorship director?’
Rachel nodded. ‘Natalie’s our new kennel director, full stop.’
She wasn’t sure she’d be half as far on with the Open Day without Natalie’s feverish intervention. She’d breezed through the insurance admin, and the permissions, and sent off for all the details about registering as a charity ‘if it made life easier’. Rachel wasn’t sure how it could, but Natalie seemed to relish the challenge. ‘Can we count on Flint & Sunderland to sponsor a kennel? Or a dog bowl with your name on it, for a year’s tinned tripe?’
‘Ha! Seems appropriate for a firm of solicitors. Yes, I should think we’ll be in touch about that. Only right, since I’ve had so many happy years with my two.’
Gerald always seemed to come to life when she got him onto the topic of dogs, Rachel thought. The stuffed shirt turned quite avuncular. The more she got to know about the dog world of Longhampton the more it seemed like a canine version of the Masons. Everyone knew everyone.
‘And I got my letter from Megan too,’ he went on. ‘Or should I say, Molly and Spry got their letter from Gem!’
‘Right,’ said Rachel, less confidently. She hadn’t had a chance to check over Megan’s letters, but she’d noticed there was a paw-print stamp on the office desk, which made her suspect the worst.
While she and Natalie were sorting out the sponsorship/kennel promotion, Megan had offered to get in touch with the various rehomers who’d taken on Four Oaks dogs over the years, inviting them to support the day. All their details were on handwritten files in the office, usually with photos and Christmas cards clipped to them.
‘I always said, if Dot Mossop could have matched up people the way she matched up dogs and humans, we’d all have been queuing up the road.’ He beamed. ‘We’ll be there – this Saturday, is it?’
Rachel flinched. Four days off, and there was still an enormous amount to do. ‘Yes,’ she said bravely. ‘Shall I put you down for the Waggiest Tail competition?’
‘Absolutely.’ Gerald paused for maximum comic effect. ‘And you can put the dogs down too!’
‘Not literally, I hope,’ joked Rachel.
Gerald looked confused, then guffawed. ‘No! Very good! No, certainly not!’
Oh, my God, thought Rachel. Now I’m even doing dog jokes. The end is nigh.
Zoe’s contribution to the Open Day planning was to find a local celebrity judge for the various competitions. She secured the services of the Lady Mayoress, while she was safely trapped under the colour heat lamp: Mrs Haileybury was delighted to help, even though she was ‘more of a cat person’.
Zoe was beginning to think that she could easily become more of a cat person, too. After a long, long day at work, in which two staff were off sick and she was too soft to say no to their clients, Toffee had decided to shred her one good pair of shoes, and Leo had started scratching his head with a depressingly familiar concentration that she’d seen before, during the Great Nit Plague of last summer. Spencer’s stroppy mood hadn’t let up, and she was finding it harder and harder to keep her cool.
She knew she should have started making Leo and Toffee’s fancy-dress costume earlier than the night before, but that was just the kind of week it had been. And like a guided missile, Spencer chose the half-hour before bath and bed to deliver his latest bombshell.
‘Daddy says we’re going on a summer camp for our holidays, in America.’
Zoe looked up from the leftover hen night bunny ears she was adjusting for Toffee to wear in his fancy-dress role as a rabbit. It wasn’t the most genius idea she’d ever had, but funds were tight. Leo didn’t mind putting on the cute paisley waistcoat he’d worn for her sister’s wedding to go as a conjuror, and Toffee’s costume had to be chew-proof, pee-proof and ideally Leo-proof.
‘Mummy?’ he said again, in case she hadn’t heard. ‘Daddy’s taking us to Florida for our holidays.’
‘Really?’ she said evenly.
‘Yes. It’s a special one for kids and dads.’ Spencer announced it in the same smug voice that David had probably used to tell him. ‘It’s got log flumes and a special area for skateboards, and you can eat barbecue every night.’
‘When did he tell you this?’ Zoe concentrated on stitching the elastic onto the headband. Florida. Florida! Either David was so gripped by the credit crunch that he couldn’t pay child support, or he wasn’t.
Or Jennifer was underwriting the holiday in an attempt to make her sons love her. She blanched.
‘Last weekend. When we saw him.’
‘Well, summer holidays are still a few months away, Spencer. Daddy needs to discuss it with me.’ She tried to seem positive. ‘We were going to go to Cornwall, weren’t we? That’ll be fun, won’t it? Toffee’s going to love the beach. He can’t go on the plane, can he?’
Spencer tossed his head. ‘Toffee can stay here with you. We’re going to Florida with Daddy. Cornwall’s rubbish compared to America. I’m not going. I refuse.’
Something in Spencer’s tone startled Leo, who glanced up fearfully from his Dr Who figurines. He began collecting the plastic Daleks and Cybermen, putting them in a safe pile behind the big Tardis. It was from a different play set and looked ominous next to the figures.
Zoe forced herself to breathe slowly. For a seven-year-old, Spencer had developed a scarily teenage attitude all of a sudden. She knew he was trying to provoke her into calling David to sort it out, and bringing them together even if it was just to tell him off, but that didn’t make his rudeness any easier to ignore. Spencer seemed to have an unerring knack of hitting her right where she felt sorest.
Much like David and his outrageous expensive holiday bribes.
‘Spencer,’ she said, ‘I make the decisions in this house. Daddy should have discussed this with me before he told you – it might not fit in with our plans.’
He looked at her fiercely. ‘Me and Leo are going to Florida and you can’t stop us.’
‘I can.’ Don’t get into a fight with your own son, Zoe told herself.
‘You can’t. I’ll run away. I’ve got my bag.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She shot a quick look at Leo, who had now pulled out the bottom of his t-shirt like an apron, and was hiding his Daleks in there, curling his arm around them. ‘Spencer, why don’t you show me how you’re going to lead Toffee around the ring tomorrow?’ She tried her best to smile. ‘What are you going to wear? Your special football top?’
‘If you loved us, you’d take us to Florida too,’ shouted Spencer, his face red with fury. He glared at Zoe as if he was about to run off, then suddenly he marched over to the sofa where Toffee was sleeping, shoved the startled dog onto the floor and ran upstairs.
‘Spencer!’ Zoe was across the room in a flash. Toffee wasn’t the small puppy he’d been when he’d arrived, and he landed with a thump on one of the big floor cushions the boys lounged on to watch television. He didn’t seem to be hurt, but he was confused and upset. Zoe picked him up to soothe him, and felt his heart banging hard against his ribcage. So was hers.
Leo began to grizzle anxiously. ‘Why is Spencer shouting?
Why did he hurt Toffee?’
‘He hasn’t hurt Toffee, darling,’ said Zoe, reaching out to hold Leo with her spare arm. She pulled him in towards her. ‘Look, he’s fine, aren’t you, Toffee?’
Toffee wriggled as Leo tried to stroke his black nose and Zoe struggled to keep her cool. What was she supposed to do first? Discipline Spencer? Run Toffee up to the vet’s? Convince poor worried Leo that World War Three wasn’t breaking out in their house? It was too much to deal with on her own. The pressure of being Mum and Dad and everything else crushed her for a second, but she pushed it away for later.
‘Leo, why don’t you put Toffee in his basket for two minutes, while I go upstairs and talk to Spencer?’ she said, trying to guesstimate how long she could leave the two of them alone. ‘Don’t let him chew anything and if he starts whining, call me.’
She ran upstairs two at a time and yanked at the bedroom door, but Spencer was holding it shut.
‘Spencer, I am so disappointed with you.’ Zoe said, through the door. ‘You could have really hurt Toffee!’
‘Don’t care.’
‘I don’t think I can let you lead Toffee in the dog show tomorrow,’ she said, determined to punish him for the way he’d hurt the little dog. ‘He’s going to be very scared of you, if you won’t apologise. I’ll have to let Leo do it instead.’
‘Don’t care.’
‘Fine,’ said Zoe, and leaned her forehead against the door, pleased that Spencer couldn’t see how beaten she felt.
She didn’t know what else to say. This was going to go on for the next ten years. She closed her eyes and imagined how nice it would be to have that time in her day that had been dog walking with Bill again – not for any romance, just for the reassurance that there were some things she could still get right.
‘Muuuuuum!’ Leo’s voice floated up the stairs, and Zoe pushed herself away from the door and went to deal with the next set of crises.
26
As soon as Bertie got a whiff of bacon sandwiches he was almost impossible to keep on his lead, and nearly dragged Natalie across the car park towards the house. She didn’t like to think what he would do when Freda’s bacon grill got going.
‘Johnny! Johnny, you’re going to have to take him for a walk, wear him out a bit!’ she gasped, trying to keep hold of the extendable lead. ‘Just don’t let him roll in anything. I want him to be nice and clean for as long as possible.’
Although they’d bathed Bertie first thing that morning, all ready for meeting his new full-time parents, a sneaky part of Natalie hoped he would roll in something so disgusting they’d be put off by his filth, and decide to go for something smaller and more hygenic.
‘Do you think he knows?’ Johnny gazed at Bertie forlornly. ‘Can he tell?’
‘No,’ said Natalie, more to cheer Johnny up than because she believed it. ‘Course he can’t.’
‘Do you remember the first few times we walked up here with him, he got all whimpery and thought we were bringing him back?’ Johnny looked nearly as miserable as the Basset hound. ‘And now he’s fine?
‘Johnny, let’s not go through this again,’ said Natalie. ‘Please. Go on, give him a good long trot. You’ll both feel better for it.’
‘Are you going to come with us?’ He didn’t say, ‘for our last walk,’ but it hung in the air.
Natalie tried to sound more determined than she felt. ‘I can’t. There’s loads to do – I’ve got to make sure the sponsorship packs are all finished, and there’s enough leaflets and stuff.’ She tried not to look at Bertie, and his beautiful velvet ears that she could arrange on his face like eye masks. ‘Just give him a quick once around the orchard and then down that bridlepath towards the woods. Don’t go down the hill to the park – he’ll just get over-excited.’
‘OK,’ said Johnny, and clicked his tongue at Bertie. When that didn’t work, he rattled the bag of treats in his pocket, and Bertie trotted obediently after him, his white tail arched like a question mark above his long back.
Natalie watched until they were out of sight, and then sighed, and headed for Rachel’s HQ – the house kitchen.
It was even more of a hive of activity than normal. All dogs had been banned, for a start, and several sad pairs of eyes peered forlornly through the baby gate to the annexe, including Gem. Freda was making a massive catering pot of tea and bacon sandwiches for everyone, while Rachel, in jeans and a black t-shirt and some incredible vintage jacket, issued instructions to the volunteers. Natalie recognised Ted, Freda’s husband, as well as the regular sixth-formers from the school, and Lauren from the surgery.
Bill was standing by the counter, going through a first-aid kit so old Natalie half-expected to see leeches coming out of it.
‘Morning!’ she said, and Rachel whipped round. Her dark eyes were ringed with shadows and she looked as if she’d been up all night.
‘Brilliant. You’re here. We’re just missing Zoe now.’
Natalie caught Bill’s eye, and he turned a faint shade of pink. She wondered what was going on there; he hadn’t mentioned seeing Zoe for a while, after talking about her more than she’d ever heard him talk about a girlfriend, and she’d been too distracted by her own problems to ask. Natalie made a mental note to get him on his own and see if there was anything she could do. After all, it was partly her fault that they’d had that awkward moment with the dogs.
‘What can I do?’ she asked.
Rachel looked harassed. ‘I don’t know. Everything? I was up until two this morning, washing bloody dogs and sweeping out the kennels. I can’t remember what my own middle name is.’
‘Let me see.’ Natalie stepped forward, took the clipboard out of Rachel’s hand and started moving everyone around like planes on a runway. At least it would stop her thinking about Bertie.
At eleven, the sun came out, and by midday, people began arriving, despite Rachel’s panic that it would just be the ten of them eating their way through a metric ton of bacon.
Natalie did her best to calm her down, but she sensed something jittery about Rachel from the moment she arrived.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ she asked, when they were on their own, checking the kennels. So the dogs wouldn’t be distressed by too many visitors, the plan was for Megan and Rachel to take turns showing potential local donors around in shifts, and serious cleaning had been done to make the runs sponsor-worthy.
‘I’m just . . . under pressure,’ said Rachel. She hesitated, and Natalie knew she didn’t want to bring her pregnancy into it.
‘Are you still feeling sick?’ she asked bravely. ‘You must be coming up to three months now, aren’t you?’
Rachel looked grateful, and Natalie felt a bittersweet sadness that she’d gained a friend, but one who’d never understand how hard it was to be around her.
‘Sick? I don’t have time to be sick. I’m panicking I haven’t done enough here,’ Rachel said. ‘I don’t have Dot’s touch with the dogs, if it all kicks off. I’m not a businesswoman like you, and I worry my sums are wrong. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. It’s like a weird dream, where the dogs’ll start talking, and then I’ll wake up back in London.’
Natalie touched her arm reassuringly. As usual Rachel looked cool in her jeans but she could see the t-shirt was pulled over the unfastened top button.
‘You’re not on your own. It’s going to be a huge success,’ she said. ‘I have my reputation as a marketing manager staked on this.’
Rachel’s eyes clouded.
‘You’ve done your best,’ Natalie went on. ‘Just wait until five-thirty, when we’re back in here, counting the takings, eh?’
She seemed to pull herself together at that. ‘Yes,’ she said, with a crooked smile. ‘Five-thirty, drinks all round. Apart from me, obviously.’
Natalie stood by the gate to the orchard, welcoming visitors in, handing them the short leaflet about the kennels and the rescue, and soon there was a healthy stream of dogs and their owners, some of whom actually
recognised her from her daily rounds with Bertie.
The orchard looked gorgeous, with most of the trees covered in foamy blossom, and underneath them was a modest selection of stalls – a cake stall, a raffle, a table with all Dot’s leaflets about dog care, now updated by Rachel, some doggie stuff donated by the pet store, face painting and mini grooming (dogs only) run by the students, and a table with cups on for the Fun Dog Show.
According to the entry forms Megan had pinned to the trees, there would be classes for Waggiest Tail, Dog Most Like Owner, Fancy Dress Pairs, Handsomest Dog, Prettiest Bitch, Guess the Weight of the Dog, and Best Friends.
Bertie could win at least three of those classes, Natalie thought, and pencilled in his name next to Waggiest Tail, Handsomest Dog and Best Friends. She paused over Dog Most Like Owner and decided to risk it, if only to force a smile out of Johnny. There was no sign of him and Bertie, but Natalie assumed he’d taken off on a long walk, if it was going to be a farewell one.
She took out her mobile to check if he’d rung, but there was nothing. As she was dialling his number to see where he’d got to, Megan waved at her from over by Freda’s catering table, and Natalie knew at once from the two people standing by her side what she wanted her for.
They looked like nice people. That was even worse.
She took a deep breath and went across to say hello, plastering her happy face over the new aching in her chest.
‘Natalie! There’s someone here I’d like you to meet?’ Megan smiled as she pointed to the couple who shook her hand eagerly. ‘This is Adam, and this is Paula. This is Natalie, who’s been the most amazing foster mum to Bertie for the last few months.’
‘Oh, he’s been very easy,’ said Natalie. ‘He’s such a lovely, lovely dog.’
‘He’s a cuddle bug,’ agreed Megan. ‘We can’t understand how anyone could have thrown him out!’
‘He is naughty, though,’ Natalie added, before she could stop herself. ‘He’s worked out how to open our fridge. And he howls like you wouldn’t believe. And he’d sleep in bed with you if he could.’
