A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal

by Louisa George

  It was the first time in a long time that he’d felt Beth open up and he encouraged more. ‘How did you feel about her not wanting you here? That must have been tough after everything you’ve done for her.’

  ‘Honestly? I did feel a bit hurt not to be needed, but also relieved. It meant I had a chance to do some living.’

  He thought about the kind of living he’d been doing: working, climbing, random sex with women who just wanted to hook up—and that suited him just fine. He grimaced at the thought of Beth having random sex with anyone other than him. ‘I don’t want to hear about that.’

  ‘Alex, you broke it off.’ She harrumphed. ‘I’m not a nun.’

  ‘I know.’ He wanted to tell her he regretted it all. He wanted to tell her how much he still wanted her. But he couldn’t take that step, not when they were just starting to communicate again. ‘There’s eight years to fill in.’

  She took hold of the lead and miraculously Spike walked by her side as if compelled by some sort of weird magic. Then she sighed. ‘It’s a long time.’

  ‘We could try to fill in the gaps.’

  ‘Why?’ Her eyes crinkled as she frowned. ‘Why do you want to know what I’ve been doing?’

  ‘It’s called being civil. Polite. Plus, don’t dogs pick up on hostility? Spike’s only a baby—he needs a harmonious atmosphere.’

  She almost smiled at that. ‘I’m not being hostile. I’m just minding my own business.’

  ‘Beth. Come on. I just want us to try to get along.’ He knew he didn’t deserve anything from her and he was touching a nerve here, but he couldn’t bear being close and not being...close. ‘Spike wants to know all about you. Don’t you, boy?’

  She looked from him to Spike and rolled her eyes. ‘Okay. I don’t know where to start. Oh, yes, I do.’

  Her eyes met his and for a moment he thought she was going to ask him why. Why? Why had he broken something so good? Their conversation back then had been inadequate and brutal, but he’d been too shocked to be gentle, too scared to be anything other than quick. His heart banged hard as he hunted for the right words, but she asked, ‘Why did your parents go to live in Spain?’

  Unexpected. But they’d always got along with Beth and he’d felt terrible when he’d asked them to stick with his plan to protect her from his illness. They’d protested that it was unfair, but he’d pulled out the desperately sick son card and they’d eventually agreed to abide by his wishes.

  ‘After Mikey died my aunt Carol and uncle Seb moved to Malaga.’ He didn’t need to remind Beth who Mikey was: she was Alex’s girlfriend when his cousin had been diagnosed with testicular cancer; she went to the funeral; she saw the fallout of grief. ‘They needed to escape the place that reminded them of their son and start somewhere afresh. Their marriage was rocky and Spain patched them up. Then two years ago my folks decided they liked it there and moved over too. I bought their house because it’s been in the Norton family for four generations and I wanted it to be somewhere Melanie could bring the kids in the holidays.’

  ‘Malaga’s nice. I went there after uni. Funny, I might have bumped into them all.’ Her eyebrows rose wryly. ‘Wait. Your sister has kids? I somehow missed that. My mum’s Oakdale gossip’s not as reliable as it used to be.’

  This was good. This was chatting on a level they hadn’t reached for a long time. Although the light in her eyes when talking about his sister and her children gave him a little pause. ‘Yes. She’s got a two-year-old boy and a six-month-old baby girl. She’s doing great. Her husband, Jon, is something to do with media in Manchester.’

  ‘No kids or anything for you?’ Beth’s eyes grew bigger. ‘I guess I’d have seen them around.’

  ‘Not on my radar.’ Was putting it mildly. ‘You ever get engaged again?’

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘Nowhere close.’ He shook his head, shocked by the relief at her words and yet lost as to where to put that relief, because it wasn’t as if he could offer her a future she’d want. ‘What’s been happening in your eight years?’

  She shrugged. ‘Vet school. A stint in America at an animal sanctuary. Back to Glasgow for post-graduate study. A job. A house. The usual things. Mum’s relationship fizzled out. I came back to see her just for a weekend a few months ago, and I’m still here. She’d pretended things were okay for too long and got herself into a mess. A bad mess, Alex. It was terrible seeing her in such a state.’ She stopped walking and looked up at him. ‘I just wish people were honest. It would save a lot of heartache and hurt in the long run. Right?’

  He knew she didn’t mean just her mum. ‘Beth—’

  ‘Oh, here’s me.’ She turned away from him and pointed to the house he knew as well as his own. How many hours had he spent there after school? In the long summer holidays when her mum was still managing a part-time job they’d hang out together there all day. He knew that the wallpaper in the lounge had been ordered from Liberty in London. That the back garden was paved because it was easier to maintain.

  That he’d pressed Beth against every wall and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe for wanting her. That they’d made love in the kitchen, the lounge and the bathroom as well as Beth’s pretty bedroom that had a clear view of the lake. Of course, she wasn’t thinking any of this as she said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning for handover. You want to drop him here? Or at the surgery?’

  ‘Beth—’ He wanted to say...what? That he was sorry. That he’d been an idiot and handled things badly, but if he were in the same circumstances again, looking down the barrel of that same gun, he’d do exactly what he’d done eight years ago. He would let her go. And wish for ever that things could have been different in every damned way.

  She was looking at him expectantly, for an answer, but he couldn’t remember the question. She huffed out a breath and handed him the lead. ‘The vet clinic is easier for me. Bring him down for eight o’clock. Thanks.’

  Then she turned to go and without thinking he put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Beth. Stop.’

  She wheeled round to him, the cold night turning her breath to smoke that dissipated into nothing. ‘What, Alex?’

  ‘I’m sorry I hurt you.’

  She flinched away from his hand. ‘It was a long time ago.’

  ‘I wish...’

  She lifted her chin. Daring, proud. Her eyes blazing. ‘What exactly do you wish?’

  So many wishes—most of them involved Beth. Some were attainable, many just weren’t. ‘That things were different.’

  She pressed her lips together and raised her palm. ‘Don’t do this now. Please. I’m exhausted and I can’t... I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

  Neither did he. What the hell was he doing? The last thing either of them needed was this. He tugged gently on the lead and brought Spike close, then turned away from her haunting eyes and the mouth he ached to kiss. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE BATH WAS WONDERFUL. Beth’s heart, not so much. Questions and emotions see-sawed through her. Why hadn’t she just grabbed the chance to ask him what the hell had been going on all those years ago? Because she’d spent years building herself back up. She’d done well, too. Until she’d come back.

  Never go back—that was a hard lesson learnt.

  What had he meant by he wished things were different?

  And why the big heartache now? Why did he have to say that when she was already emotionally vulnerable? What with wrapping up her family home, looking after her mother and holding down a job that involved beloved pets her life was wrought with too many emotions as it was, without adding Alex into the mix. But ever since she’d come back home she’d tumbled from delight at seeing him, to sadness at what they’d lost, then anger and a desperation to move forward.

  She’d soaked for an hour just to get some personal space and to de-stress after the trauma of Meg and De
nnis. And Alex. But eventually the water had turned cold and she shivered as she went downstairs, wrapping her dressing gown tightly round her. She hated being cold. That Christmas when he’d broken things off she’d felt as if she was cold for months. She hadn’t been able to stop shivering and shaking, not for a long time.

  Her mum was in the dining room surrounded by boxes.

  ‘What about this lovely dinner service from Grandma Masters? I’m sure it’s worth something...you could sell it if you don’t want to take it with you.’ Beth’s mum tearfully nosed her wheelchair round the dining table, which was covered in the contents of the old pine dresser, while Beth fixed a smile on her face. Downsizing from a three-bedroomed eighteenth-century cottage to a one-bedroomed modern apartment in Bay View rest home was hard work.

  Sure, it was a nice dinner service, but for twelve people? How was she ever going to fit twelve bodies round her tiny table in Scotland? The last time the service was used was when her father had been killed in a work accident when Beth was six, and ever since it had been taken out three times a year, cleaned and then put back in exactly the same place to collect dust.

  All she remembered was sitting in this room after his funeral, not understanding why her daddy wasn’t coming back and staring hard at the dainty pink and blue flowers willing herself not to cry. Every time she’d looked at it since she’d had a feeling that life was unreliable and that the rug could be well and truly ripped out from beneath you at any given time.

  It was difficult enough sorting out the remnants of her childhood without going through every single item and reliving the memories. ‘It’s tempting to say yes to taking everything, but I’m not sure it will all fit into my two-bedroomed terrace in Glasgow.’

  Her mum wiped her eyes on her cardigan sleeve. ‘I’ve always loved my china collection. There’s pieces from both sides of the family and mementoes that people brought me from all over the world. If I knew you had it then it would make me happy.’

  But would it make me happy? Beth didn’t want the oddly painted china doll from Russia and didn’t have much need for the porcelain Picasso mugs from Malaga—from Alex’s parents, maybe? But she didn’t need her mother’s heart to break along with her own either. ‘I don’t know. Let’s put it in the not sure pile.’

  ‘Beth, love, the only pile we’ve made so far is the not sure pile. I’m hoping for a keeper pile soon.’

  She was right. Beth had hedged about taking any of it. ‘Oh, Mum. I’m sorry. I’m tired. Maybe we should do this tomorrow after work, when I’m feeling brighter.’

  Her mum covered Beth’s hand with her own very misshapen one. ‘It’s not just tiredness, Beth. I can see that it’s something else. Something’s bothering you and I’m fairly sure it’s not just sorting through a load of old stuff.’

  Oh-oh. Beth wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart with her mum. When Alex had put his hand on her shoulder earlier and said he was sorry and wished things were different her chest had felt as if it were squeezing so tightly she was going to stop breathing.

  Worse, part of her—a big part—had leaned in to him, melting at his words and the soft pain in his eyes. She’d genuinely thought he’d meant it. For one split second. Then she’d reminded herself what it had taken for her to recover from him last time. She wasn’t going there again. She found her mum a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I know packing your life up is hard. You should look at it as a chance to declutter. I’ve been watching a TV programme about it. You can’t move forward until you let go of the past.’

  How to tell her that just handing it all over to someone else to deal with wasn’t exactly the solution? Beth laughed. ‘Hmmm. The only thing stopping me from moving forward will be the hours I have to spend on eBay selling all this stuff.’

  But her mum gave her an ‘I know you better than that’ kind of look. ‘It’s Alex, isn’t it? That’s what’s upsetting you, not this.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Love, I see the way your eyes light up when anyone mentions his name. I also know what the break-up did to you. That Christmas you came back and barely spoke, you barely ate, I was so worried about you. You just sat in your room and stared out of the window.’

  Beth didn’t want to be reminded. ‘Now you’re making me sound like a sad case. I was a lot younger and naive then and I got over him eventually.’ And vowed never to let a man make her feel so empty again. ‘I was over him a long time ago. I’m a different person now.’

  It was just that seeing him all the time was frustrating in the extreme.

  ‘I know you are,’ her mum said gently. ‘You’re strong and brave, and how you hold yourself together when you’re dealing with those sick animals is beyond me. But you’ve got a soft heart, and all I’m saying is that it must be hard being around him again. Sharing custody of that puppy means you’re getting too close.’

  ‘I’m working hard to find a home for him. The puppy, I mean, not Alex.’ Although rehoming her ex to Outer Mongolia was a pretty good idea right now. ‘I’ve put adverts on all the community social media pages and hopefully someone will come forward and claim him. Once he’s settled things will get back to normal again.’ Whatever that was. And there was the other thing—when she wasn’t with Button she worried about him. It was getting harder to stay detached. From them both.

  Her mum smiled. ‘There are a few boxes in the attic with the things Alex gave you. What are you going to do with them?’

  She couldn’t even face looking at them. It was stuff she’d thrown up there in her anger, hoping it would never see the light of day again. Did she want his eighteenth birthday card? The teddy bear he’d bought her to sleep with when he wasn’t around? That beautiful engagement ring? Up the ladder, out of sight but not always out of mind. ‘I’m tempted to just throw them all away. Fresh start, right? Moving forward.’

  ‘Really? Even that lovely ring?’

  ‘Definitely the ring. Just throw it all away.’ Beth swallowed, pushed his face away from her memory banks and picked up one of the six white porcelain jugs her mum owned. All very similar, all very pretty, slightly different sizes, but six? There’d only ever been a maximum of three people living here at any one time—why did they need six milk jugs?

  She’d come here for one weekend visit and now her whole life was upside down. Beth put the white jug down on the piece of paper marked ‘SELL’ and took a deep breath. Result. Maybe her mum had a point: she felt better just decluttering one thing. ‘Right, then, the only decision I need to make right now is whether to have a glass of Chardonnay or a bucket of Shiraz. Want to join me?’

  ‘I shouldn’t...not really...not with the tablets I’m on. But...’ Her mum pressed a button on the chair and an electric hum took her towards the door. ‘Okay, darling, Chardonnay it is. And shall we watch the tidying programme to get some tips?’

  ‘Definitely. I think we’re going to need them. Some of us more than others.’ Beth grinned, grateful her mum hadn’t pushed her more on the Alex issue.

  If only you could declutter emotions too.

  * * *

  Oaktree Farm was four miles out of the village. Up into the low-hanging snow-filled cloud and beyond. As the car wove higher through the hills the snow got deeper and the air colder—even with the very efficient heater in his fancy-pants red Mazda.

  Alex smiled at Beth’s description of his car. There was something about a woman who had no problem speaking her mind that kept him interested. She was a challenge, but then she always had been. That was what had attracted him to her in the first place. He’d been waiting for her to ask him about that phone call and he wondered why she hadn’t. Had she groomed her heart against him so completely?

  For the last four days it had been going round in his head and he’d wanted to broach the subject again somehow, but puppy handovers had been swift and curt and she’d found an excuse to leave every time they’d met.
>
  His full body smile quickly morphed into discomfort. He should have kept his guard up around her instead of muddying things further. He shouldn’t have opened his mouth and said what he wished, but there was something about Beth being finally willing to have a conversation that had lulled him into giving her more than he’d planned. He should have—

  Suddenly the world swerved. No. It wasn’t the world. It was the rear of the car sliding out of control. Black ice. Shoot. Heart hammering against his rib cage, he took his foot off the accelerator and focused on the road ahead, steering the car into the slide. Trying to. Trying... He dragged road-safety messages from somewhere in a deep corner of his brain. Focus on the road. On the road.

  He was travelling sideways towards an oak tree. The road was lined with the damned things.

  Faster...sliding...was this the last thing he was going to see? Oak trees and ice? Not Beth’s pretty face? Not the infinity number of freckles that kissed her skin?

  Focus on the road.

  A dip in the road, then a rise. The ice. The tree. The road. The road. And...he came to a sliding halt.

  Alex sat for moment and breathed deeply. Holy hell, that was close. He should have been focusing on the damned road. But Beth, it seemed, was with him everywhere. All. The. Time.

  And now it was getting dangerous. So, he needed to be honest with her once and for all—maybe then he’d be able to offload some of the guilt he’d been carrying around about the way he’d finished things between them. Maybe she’d forgive him. Maybe she wouldn’t. Probably not.

  But even so, he needed to address the huge elephant in the room whenever they were together. He needed to tell her the truth. Then maybe he’d get her the hell out of his head.

  Glad when he safely reached Dennis’s farm along ever narrowing and increasingly icy lanes Alex stepped out of his car and breathed in the rarefied air. There’d been no other footprints or vehicle tracks on the snow and he wondered how often anyone other than Dennis ever came here. The farmhouse was made of similar materials to most of the houses round Oakdale—walls made of whitewashed, locally quarried large stone boulders, and blue-green slate roofs. Although Dennis’s roof had some slates missing and the whitewash was blackened in places by dirt and neglect.