by Nikki Moore
‘It is January,’ George replied as she pulled on a green anorak and yanked the fur-trimmed hood as far up as possible. She repositioned her eye patch then shook her head so her dark hair fell forward in waves to cover her face.
Turning around, her mum threw her a sharp look. ‘I don’t know how you’re going to see anything like that. You need to pin your hair back and have your hood down so you’ve got maximum visibility.’
‘Do you want me to leave the house or not?’
‘Have it your way,’ Stella shrugged, opening the door and gesturing her daughter to go first so she could lock up.
George hesitated, chewing her lip, hands going clammy. Before full blown anxiety could hit though, Buttons, sensing freedom, had pitched forward eagerly onto the front path, giving George no choice but to be tugged out of the house or fall over. ‘Woah!’ He was surprisingly strong for a twelve week old puppy, but she guessed that was what a mixture of desire and determination could do. Give you strength you didn’t know you had.
‘Are you all right?’ her mum called, quickly locking the door and shoving the key in her pocket as she raced down the path to catch up with them.
‘Yes,’ George panted. ‘Oi, Buttons!’ she tugged on the lead to remind the puppy she was there. ‘Slow down, and remember who’s in charge.’
‘Never let them get their head in front of your knee,’ her mum advised, slipping a pair of gloves on. ‘You need to lead, not the other way around.’
‘Okay,’ George said, pulling the dog up and making sure they were in line with each other.
The three of them stepped onto the pavement and turned right, Stella walking on her daughter’s left so George was in the middle of the group, with Buttons nearer the wall.
Cars whizzed past and pedestrians stepped around them, George turning her head back and forth to look out for any obstacles. While she hoped no-one could see her face, her mum was right. Between the hood, her flowing hair and the eye patch, she could barely see. Inhaling sharply, she pushed the hood down, talking to her mum to take her mind off how scary this was for her. ‘Where did you learn that?’ she asked. ‘About leading? We’ve never had a dog.’
‘Internet,’ Stella’s hand hovered by her daughter’s elbow as a red letter box came up on the right, but as if he knew something, Buttons walked around it, his shoulder against George’s knee to steer her away from it.
‘Clever doggy,’ Stella exclaimed.
George glanced at her suspiciously, ‘Are you sure he’s not a guide dog? Or trained in some way?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ her mum replied. ‘He’s just got good instincts.’
‘Hmmmm,’ George agreed dubiously, lifting her head towards a street light. She had to admit it was refreshing being out and about, much more than she’d imagined. Nothing disastrous had happened and no-one was staring at her in the early evening darkness. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad.
She regretted the thought a few minutes later when upon reaching Primrose Hill, Buttons got overexcited about the wide open green space and other dogs and tore off with George hanging onto his lead. She tripped over and smashed her knee on the concrete path. Wincing, she rolled over onto her bum, clutching her leg, the puppy’s lead somehow still wrapped around her right hand.
‘Stupid dog!’ George gritted her teeth against the stinging pain, her jeans ripped open to reveal an oozing gash on her knee.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ her mum dropped into a crouch beside her, grabbing Buttons’ lead. ‘Here, I’ll take him. How bad is it?’ Stella’s face was clenched and white.
‘Just a cut and probably a bruise,’ George got up carefully, not wanting her mum to worry, and was reaching for the puppy’s lead when a guy came running over.
‘Are you okay?’ he panted. ‘I saw you fall. Do you need any help?’
George automatically dropped her chin to her chest. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ She got an impression of tousled brown hair before hiding her face. It was smiling guy. Shit, this was so embarrassing.
‘Fine usually means exactly the opposite,’ he answered drily, smiling at her.
George stepped towards her mum, yanking up her hood.
‘You fell pretty heavily. It must have hurt,’ he insisted. ‘Can I help? I could give you a piggy-back or something. I don’t live far from here.’ The raised eyebrow and grin he gave her, which she caught from the corner of her eye, communicated that he knew she knew that. He recognised her.
‘No, thanks. I’d rather walk,’ she said curtly, turning away, cheeks burning. Fabulous. Caught gawking at him twice, and then she fell over in front of him too. And his concern just made it so much worse.
Her mum leaned in, speaking quietly. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right to walk home, darling?’
‘Yes,’ she hissed. ‘Please just– just get rid of him.’ It came out louder than she’d intended, and she backed away, even more embarrassed, stumbling over her own feet. This was getting worse with every passing minute.
‘I’m sorry,’ she heard her mum say to him, ‘my daughter was in an accident and now she finds it hard to talk to people.’
George sucked in a breath. Go Mum, sharing all my secrets. Yay.
‘Thank you very much for the offer,’ her mum added, ‘but we’ll manage.’
‘Sure,’ he agreed easily, ‘I’ll leave you to it then. It was nice to meet you both properly.’
Was it George’s imagination or did he emphasise the word properly?
‘Properly?’ Stella picked up on the intonation too.
‘I think we’re quite local to each other. I’ve seen your daughter around.’
‘Really?’ Stella frowned, looking at George, questions in her eyes.
George stared down at her feet. Thanks, smiling guy. Set the Spanish Inquisition on me, why don’t you?
‘I see.’ Stella murmured. ‘It’s nice to meet you too. And thank you again for coming over, it was very kind.’
‘No problem. See you around.’ Nodding, he walked off briskly towards the brow of the hill.
‘What a nice young man,’ Stella said pointedly, rejoining George and handing over Buttons’ lead. ‘Where did you meet each other?’
‘We didn’t.’ George wrapped the lead around her right hand, shaking her head at the puppy, who was trying to dance away from them. She drew him towards her. Her knee was stinging like crazy. There’d been enough drama for one day.
‘Oh,’ Stella pulled a puzzled expression. ‘Well, I think he likes you.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ George swung away and started towards one of the park entrances. ‘Come on, let’s go home.’
Despite the fated first trip out, George walked Buttons the following day. Even with her nerve-tightening self-consciousness, she enjoyed stretching her legs and being out in public again. As long as she had her hair down and could pull her hood up if she felt the need to, the anxiety stayed at bay.
Over the course of the next week, she upped it to two walks a day; one in the morning and one in the evening, and she and Buttons fell into a rhythm, walking the same route every time. The puppy largely behaved himself and by the fourth day she was able to let him off his lead for short periods of time. By the sixth day he was coming back on recall, as long as she kept a supply of Bonio’s in her pocket. Because it was damp and her thigh ached, she stuck to the lower, flatter paths around the base of the hill at first.
She kept wondering if she’d run into smiling guy, and wasn’t sure what she’d do if she did, but never saw him. And instead of people-watching now, twitching the curtains, she spent her days in the house or back garden training Buttons.
‘Come on,’ she clicked her fingers at him on the Tuesday of the second week, and pointed to the top of the hill. ‘Let’s give it a go.’ He turned to face the right way, barked once and set off up the path ahead of her, free from the lead. George followed with a wry grin. She could swear he was more person than canine. She wiped the back of her arm across her forehead as she pan
ted up the hill. It was late morning and the sun had climbed in the sky, beaming its rays down. After days of driving rain, it was unseasonably mild. George was building up a light sweat under her long sleeved top and hoody, so she stopped and drew the top layer off, tying it around her waist, and adjusted her eye patch before setting off again. When she reached the brow of the hill, she inhaled deeply, swivelling her head from side to side to see the London skyline. It was amazing.
Dropping to her knees on the concrete circular area, she hugged the dog. ‘Good boy,’ she muttered into his fur. He licked her cheek in response in one long sandpapery rasp, then his body quivered and he lurched forward as the chattering of people filled the air.
George’s fingers caught in his collar as she straightened up, trying to stop him running off. ‘Stop!’ she cried, but he was already moving and had too much momentum and speed. She couldn’t pull him back or untwist her fingers. She was being yanked toward the edge of the concrete area, towards some kind of lip she had a nasty feeling she was going to trip over. With only one eye, her depth perception was skewed.
‘Shit!’ she squeaked, careening towards the edge.
A pair of warm hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her slightly as she fell forward, her hand freeing at the last minute from the puppy’s collar, and she tumbled down onto the cold grassy slope, her saviour next to her.
‘Careful, you don’t want to roll down the hill. You might never get a chance to tell me your name,’ a deep, familiar voice joked.
‘Bloody dog!’ Flustered, George sat up and shot Buttons a filthy look while she gathered her composure.
‘I think he was excited by the children,’ smiling guy rolled closer and picked a leaf out of her wavy hair. ‘Are you okay?’
Glancing over her left shoulder she saw a group of milling children and several stressed-looking adults trying to wrangle them into some kind of order. He was probably right. Buttons did seem to get excited by clusters of people, especially the type who might give him attention.
Turning back to her rescuer, she straightened her eye patch with trembling fingers. It had been a long time since she’d been so close to a guy. Close enough to feel the heat of his broad shoulder and a muscular thigh against hers. Don’t humiliate yourself. ‘Uh-huh,’ she mumbled, pulling her hair forward around her face. It would probably be rude to pull her hood up mid-conversation. It would also be weird given how sunny it was. ‘I mean, yes, thank you.’
‘Good.’ He leapt to his feet. ‘Did you come to see the skyline?’ he asked as if she hadn’t just been embarrassed in front of goodness knew how many people.
‘Not really,’ she said awkwardly. If she talked to people they’d look at her. And if they did that…she ran a finger along the puckered skin of her scar.
Ignoring the gesture, he grabbed George’s other hand, hauling her up easily. ‘Lark, Emily,’ he called.
George twisted around and narrowed her eye. Two little heads popped up from among the group of children. The pair started to make their way over to them, one a blond boy of about eight who reminded George of the milky-bar kid, except with a white cane. He was smiling, totally at ease with the stick. The girl next to him was grinning, signing something with her hands at George’s rescuer. Smiling guy signed something back, moving his mouth at the same time.
He turned back to George. ‘Hi, I’m Leo.’ He held out a large hand.
After a brief hesitation George took it. He’d just saved her from probable injury, so it would be rude not to shake his hand. ‘Georgiana,’ she whispered. What she didn’t expect was the soothing heat of his palm, or how the texture of it against her own made something in her tummy quiver. Oh. A blush started to climb her throat. No, no, no.
‘Nice name. Good to meet you.’ He said as the children arrived next him and he directed them to stroke and make a fuss over Buttons, who’d panted over to George in search of a treat.
George drew a couple of biscuits out of her pocket and gave them to the black and white puppy as Leo crouched down and placed his hand on the boy’s to show him where the animal was sat. Buttons obediently lay down and started crunching away at his snack while the kids petted him. He looked thrilled with the combination.
‘So, are you getting out more nowadays?’ Leo gazed up at her. ‘Instead of drooling over me through your lounge window?’
It was so cheeky, a loud, ‘You wish!’ burst out.
He grinned and straightened up, several inches taller than her. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.’ A light breeze blew his tousled brown hair into bracken coloured eyes. ‘Look, I’m a teacher at St. Michael’s, one of the local schools. Why don’t you tag along?’ He turned to someone, and nodded before turning back. ‘I’m going to do the skyline.’ He looked down as the little girl abandoned lavishing attention on Buttons, and signed something at him. Nodding, he signed something back. ‘I agree,’ Leo said out loud. ‘She says you’re pretty,’ he explained.
George shook her head automatically and drew her hair around her face. ‘No,’ she denied, gulping. ‘I need to go.’ Bending over to hide her anger and confusion, she clipped Buttons’ lead onto his collar and started walking away. ‘Bye,’ she called over one shoulder.
‘I’m sorry. We weren’t trying to offend you,’ Leo hollered. ‘Stay for the skyline talk. You might enjoy it.’
‘Not today,’ she yelled, picking up the pace, breaking into a jog as she went down the hill. It was things like this that made her reluctant to go out.
She’d come too far to slide back into a black hole again, so she and Buttons carried on with their daily excursions. And the next time she saw Leo, on a walk she’d deliberately changed to late afternoon in order to try and avoid him (epic fail), the first thing he did was apologise.
‘Hi, Georgiana,’ he walked right up to her, touching her elbow as she stood halfway up the hill watching Buttons swoop across the grass in diagonal streaks chasing a bird, ears flapping.
She jerked her arm away from him.
‘I’m sorry if I upset you the other day,’ Leo said, dropping his hand and stepping back to give her space. ‘I was just translating. I wasn’t trying to hit on you. It’s genuinely what Emily said.’
Well, that was clear. He hadn’t been flirting with her. He was just being his pupil’s mouthpiece.
‘I thought it was Lark who was blind, not Emily,’ she flung back, hurt. ‘Didn’t she see the state of this?’ She pointed at her scar. Sucking in a shaky breath, she immediately felt awful for what she’d said about the children. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it. You are pretty though,’ he frowned.
‘I don’t need pity,’ George blinked, thinking furiously of the way she was going to get out of this conversation.
‘No pity. I’m just being honest. It’s the way I’m built. I’m also used to dealing with parents of children with special educational needs, where we have open conversations about their child’s challenges and the support they require to maximise their opportunities. So I say what I think. I’m sorry if that upsets you.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded, pulling her hair forward.
He grinned, ‘Careful, I may have to get ear protectors or ear muffs to block out your constant chatter. I’m not sure I can stand it.’
Despite herself, George smiled.
‘No, don’t smile. The straight-faced look goes much better with the cool eye patch. Like a brooding, sexy, girl pirate.’
‘Are you for real?’ she blurted, looking around for Buttons. It might be a good idea to leave. Leo was either mocking her or flirting with her and she wasn’t sure how to handle either.
‘Buttons. Buttons!’ Darkness was falling and she couldn’t see him. She rattled the biscuit bag in her pocket and called the puppy again.
‘Last time I checked, I was real,’ Leo said, falling into step with her as she started up the hill, hoping for a better view from the top ‘And don’t get defensive. We’re just chatting. I come here for a walk most evenings to
unwind after work. So, you’re here and I’m here. Hey, why don’t we do the skyline this time?’
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’
George expelled a long sigh. Might as well get it over with, she got the feeling he would just keep asking every time he saw her otherwise. When she got to the top of the hill, Buttons was waiting for her expectantly; the expression on his face seeming to say what took you so long? Shaking her head at him, she gave him a chew and hooked him back onto the lead. Leo moved up beside her when she was done, turning her to face the City and slowly describing the different buildings from left to right. She did nothing but nod along as he spoke, conscious of the warmth of his arm against hers as he pointed things out, and the fresh scent of his aftershave. When he finished, she took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the view as twilight descended. ‘Thanks.’
‘My pleasure.’
After a few minutes of companionable silence, he spun around to study her profile. ‘So, what’s your story?’
She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about horrible things. She wanted to enjoy the beauty of the night, the lights of the city twinkling as the light of day faded.
‘Do you ever say more than five words in one go?’ he asked.
She shrugged again.
This time he laughed. ‘Ok-ay. Well that’s fine, I can do enough talking for both of us. I was born in Holborn to Cathy and Chris Miller on 10th March 1988.’ The dry crisp tone was in the style of an old fashioned BBC presenter. ‘A rather small baby, I shot up at the age of seven, when I discovered a hereto unknown brand of sweetcorn known as Green Giant, eating it every day with my greens, convinced I could make it to six foot five at least.’ He glanced down wryly, ‘And believe me, I was very disappointed when I stopped growing at seventeen and had only reached six foot one. I started walking and talking very early.’ He grinned, getting into the swing of it. ‘At my three year health visitor check, my Mum –’
‘All right!’ she shook her head. ‘Stop, please. I’ll tell you just to shut you up. I don’t know why you want to know anyway.’
