Christmas at the Dog & Duck

by Jill Steeples

  ‘Look Johnny, I really like you. Honestly, I do. We’ve been friends for years. But I’m not looking for anything serious at the moment. I’m sorry if I’ve misled you. Given you the impression that I can offer you something more, but I can’t, I’m afraid. Maybe we should…you know… stop seeing each other?’

  He stepped backwards, confusion and hurt evident on his features as he held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘Is that what you really want, Ells?’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I like spending time with you, but that’s all it is for me.’

  Johnny shrugged and sucked on his lips. ‘I see. I didn’t realize. I thought we’d been having a good time together. Can’t we just carry on the way we are?’

  It was true we had been having a good time, but one thing I knew for certain was that it wasn’t fair on Johnny to continue like this with him expecting so much more from the relationship than I was able to give. Didn’t he deserve my honesty, at least?

  ‘No, Johnny. I’m sorry. This has been a mistake. We should never have got back together again. We work much better as friends, don’t you think, and I really don’t want to do anything that would jeopardize that friendship.’

  Johnny fell silent for a moment.

  ‘Right.’ The air between us crackled with tension. ‘I hadn’t realized we were doing anything to spoil our friendship. That’s the last thing I would want too, Ellie, but if you think it’s best that we split, then obviously I’d have to respect that decision.’ He pulled on his jacket, unable to look at me. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you home.’

  Johnny was doing a good job of hiding his disappointment, but I could feel it emanating from his every pore, making me feel like the biggest bitch in Little Leyton. If I’d needed any more proof that coming back here was a bad decision, then I only needed to look deep into Johnny’s eyes.

  Five

  ‘I feel really bad about the whole situation. He’s so lovely. Good-natured, funny, eager to please – he was everything I wanted and yet things just haven’t worked out the way I’d planned at all.’

  I knew exactly how Gemma Jones felt. Not that I had a big swanky five-bedroomed house. Or an adoring husband. Or five beautiful children: two boys at school, two little girls at her ankles and a baby in her arms. I certainly couldn’t compete with her on the yummy-Mummy front – on account of me not being a Mummy and in my present guise of jogging bottoms, sweat shirt and wellies, failing miserably on the yummy front too. Still, despite our obvious differences, I was feeling her pain; bonding with her, in a way only girls know how, over her distress about the current man in her life.

  ‘I know I’ve let him down. He’s so sweet and loving, but I just don’t seem to have the time to devote to him. When he looks at me with those big brown eyes, well, it breaks my heart.’

  I nodded in understanding. If I hadn’t known better she could have been talking about Johnny. I sighed, reminded of our last conversation. He’d played the puppy-dog eyes trick on me as well, but I was pleased I’d managed to stay firm. Emotional blackmail, that’s all it was.

  ‘I know, these boys can be hard to resist at times, but don’t worry, Digby will be absolutely fine. Nothing that a long walk over the fields won’t put right.’ If only all problems of the male variety could be so easily fixed.

  ‘Thanks so much, Ellie.’ Gemma handed me the lead and Digby trotted out happily. ‘You’re a lifesaver, you do know that, don’t you?’

  Another satisfied customer, I thought with a smile. If I was being honest, Digby was the favourite of all my dog clients. A black labrador, he was the most genuine and affectionate of dogs. Completely obedient too. No running off or jumping into rivers for him and he was perfectly friendly with everyone, including other dogs. With Gemma having so many other demands on her time, naturally Digby wasn’t at the top of her priority list, but at least for today, with me, he could indulge in some special one-on-one attention. As soon as we got away from the road, I let him off the lead and he walked to heel all the way around our route, only bounding away from my side when we reached the wide expanse of field.

  Watching him run across the grass, his tail wagging, I revelled in the sense of freedom we were both enjoying. Even though I felt guilty remembering my last conversation with Johnny, I realized I’d done absolutely the right thing in making my feelings clear to him. I didn’t need the complication of a serious relationship. I was fond of Johnny and liked him as a friend, someone to hang out with, but I knew it would never be more than that. Not for me at least. Much better that he knew now rather than finding out three months down the line.

  Digby stopped in the distance, turning to look at me, his ears pricked, checking on my progress.

  I beckoned him, slapping my hands on the top of my legs, and he came running immediately to my side.

  ‘That’s right, boy,’ I said, leaning down to nuzzle my head into his fur, receiving a wet sloppy kiss for my efforts. ‘You’re the only man I need in my life right now.’

  As I was feeling a deep connection between me and my new beau, and with it being such a beautiful day, I decided to take the long route home and have a meander along the High Street. I felt sure Gemma would appreciate some extra dog-free time and Digby was the perfect companion for such an outing. He would happily meander up and down the paths of the shops beside me, giving a doggy hello – his tail wagged continually – to anyone he might happen to come across.

  We walked past Little Leyton primary school and a small gaggle of children came running across the playground to see us through the fence.

  ‘Hey, that’s my dog,’ said Jake, an adorable boy, who at age nine was the eldest of Gemma’s children. He waggled his fingers through the fencing to pat Digby’s nose, and was duly rewarded for his efforts with a big friendly kiss on the hand.

  ‘Hey Digby, Digby!’ the other children called, all eager to get a similar warm welcome from the dog.

  It honestly didn’t seem that long ago that it had been me and Josie running around that playground, climbing the fallen oak trunk and playing hide-and-seek. If I closed my eyes and took a deep breath I could still conjure up the smell of the polished wood floors of the corridors in the old schoolhouse. Mrs Abraham, my first teacher, who had been kindly and terrifying in equal measure, was still teaching at the school. Happy times.

  Waving goodbye to Jake and his friends, we continued up the High Street which today was bathed in a bright cheerfulness from the last of the spring flowers, their heads still raised defiantly.

  Apart from Room No. 4, the new gift shop, which had recently opened in what was the old garage workshop, the shops on the High Street were reassuringly the same as they had always been. There was Edwards, the greengrocers, Medleys, the hardware store, Mr and Mrs Shah at the newsagents and…

  ‘Ellie! Is that you?’

  Betty Masters came out from the door to The Bluebell Tea Rooms and beckoned me over.

  ‘Ooh, darling, I haven’t seen you in ages. Come on in and have a cuppa with me.’ She clasped her hands around me, a big smile lighting up her lovely face. ‘You must tell me all your news.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any cash on me, Betty.’ I patted the pocket on my jeans. ‘And then there’s Digby to think about. Maybe it would be better if I popped in some other time.’

  ‘Nonsense you’re here now. Come on inside and bring your lovely dog too. What do you fancy?’

  Betty had worked in the tea rooms for as long as I could remember and she hadn’t seemed to have changed at all in that time. With her blonde hair piled high on her head in a bun and her red-rimmed glasses accentuating her twinkling blue eyes, she looked exactly the way I remembered her from when I was a small girl. It always amazed me how slim she stayed, considering she spent her working days surrounded by the most delicious cakes.

  Talking of cakes… My gaze ran over the selection of yummy treats behind the glass top counter. I peered in to get a better look. Scones, fruit cakes, brownies, lemon
drizzle, muffins, a Victoria sponge, coffee and walnut tray bake, flapjacks – the choice was endlessly tempting.

  ‘A cappucino and…’

  ‘Don’t tell me!’ Betty held up her hand to stop me. ‘A Bakewell tart?’

  I nodded eagerly and we both broke into laughter. For a couple of years Mum had worked here and every day after school I would walk to the tea rooms and sit myself on an available table and have a cold drink and a slice of cake – always the Bakewell tart – while waiting for Mum to finish up. Mum and Betty would encourage me to try something new on the cake front, but I’d never wanted to. The soft light sponge with the sweetness of the raspberry jam and the crunch of almonds on top always hit the right spot. Now, I couldn't wait a moment longer to try it again, I took a sneaky bite into the cake and, ahh, it was just as delicious as I remembered. Taking my plate with me I sat down at a table so that I could eat the rest.

  Betty sat down opposite me and Digby wedged his body against my leg, his eyes fixed hard upon me, just in case a stray crumb should fall – he was there, ready and waiting.

  ‘Guess who I had a postcard from today?’ Betty said. ‘Your mum. Seems like they’ve settled well in Dubai.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I think they’re loving it. Their living quarters look amazing and I think Dad is having the time of his life, a bit of a second childhood in fact. He’s been paragliding, windsurfing, all sorts. Must admit I miss them though. Still it won’t be long before they’re back home again – it’s gone so quickly.’

  ‘And what about you, lovely? It’s super having you back in the village. I do hope you’re staying around?’

  I smiled and took another bite of cake. It was a question everyone asked me and yet one I had no definitive answer to. Three months was the original plan, a time frame I’d plucked out of the air, enough time to get some perspective on my life, I’d reasoned, but now, well, I wasn’t so sure.

  ‘I’ll see how it goes. The business is going well,’ I said, giving Digby a stroke, ‘and I’ve got as many shifts at the pub as I want, so for the time being I’m happy to stay.’ More than happy, in fact. Now that I’d set things straight with Johnny, I’d felt much better about my future in Little Leyton. ‘Anyway, what’s been happening with you, Betty? How are the family?’

  ‘Yes, they’re all fine. Busy with their own lives, of course. Would you believe I’ve heard from Pip recently? That’s a rare occurrence in itself. He tells me he’s coming home later in the year.’

  ‘Really, that’s amazing!’ I only vaguely remembered Pip Masters who was the eldest of the three Masters boys. Tall and with a shock of blond hair, he’d always cut a very striking figure. He’d gone to the boys’ grammar school in town. A real high-flyer who was captain of the rugby and cricket teams, he’d excelled in his studies, winning a place at Oxford to study law. He’d gone off with the whole village’s expectations on his shoulders, but had only lasted three months, before jacking it all in to travel abroad. From what I’d heard, apart from the occasional flying visit home, he’d hadn’t been back properly since. ‘You must be excited. Is he planning on staying?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Betty with a resigned sigh. ‘To be honest I won’t actually believe it until I see the whites of his eyes. With Pip you never know what’s he’s likely to do next. But it’s about time that young man settled down to something at last.’

  ‘Oh, I really hope so too, Betty.’ I reached across the table to squeeze her hand. I knew Betty was only managing her expectations, but I hoped for her sake that Pip might decide to stay for a while just so he could get to spend some time with his family.

  ‘Look before you go, let me find a scone for Digby.’ I’d polished off the Bakewell Tart without Digby getting so much as a look in. Now, his ears pricked hopefully at the mention of his name and his gaze didn’t leave Betty as she stood up and went behind the counter to remove the cover on a plate of the biggest scones I’d ever seen.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Betty,’ I laughed, ‘but as he’s not my dog, I’m afraid he’s not allowed to have cakes.’

  ‘Sorry, Digby,’ she said, shaking her head ruefully. ‘I did try. Wait a minute, I might have a rotten old dog biscuit out the back you can have.’

  With Digby suitably satisfied with the offering from Betty, gobbling it down in a matter of seconds, we said our goodbyes and headed home.

  *

  With Digby walked and returned to his owner, I turned up early at the pub for my lunchtime shift, grabbed myself a coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with Josie, who’d been idly flicking through the newspaper. She sighed and turned to look at me.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  ‘Fine, just a bit hormonal, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, me too. And I haven’t even got the excuse of being pregnant.’

  It made her laugh, but behind the bright smile I could sense something was troubling her. She clasped her hands around her mug, her gaze drifting out of the window.

  ‘Come on, Josie, tell me, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know… I just sometimes wonder if I’m doing the right thing bringing a new life into this world.’

  ‘Oh my god. What’s happened? You and Ethan are okay, aren’t you? You haven’t had a row?’ Josie and Ethan were teenage sweethearts and had been virtually inseparable ever since. She was lovely and giving, and had worked as a fitness instructor when she wasn’t working at the pub, and Ethan worked at a local garage as a mechanic. He was so friendly and laid-back I couldn’t imagine what they might have fallen out over.

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just the news from Calais…’ She turned the pages to a double-page spread of photos. Images that were all too familiar in the media recently. Men, women and children, their faces etched with a mix of fear, defiance and disbelief, adrift and homeless in a foreign land with nothing but the clothes they were standing in.

  ‘It breaks my heart,’ said Josie. ‘Can you imagine how desperate they must be to put their life and their children’s lives at risk to escape from the horrors they’ve experienced in their own country? It makes me shudder just to think about it.’

  ‘I know.’ I reached over for Josie’s hand and squeezed it tight. ‘Makes you realize how lucky we are to live where we do.’

  ‘But what about the future?’ She cradled her bump in her arms, a wistful look on her face. ‘What sort of hope is there for my baby in a world where people can do such terrible things to one another? It scares me.’ Tears gathered in Josie’s eyes, the depth of her emotion resonating with me deep down inside.

  ‘You’ve got to put it out of your mind, Josie. I know it’s upsetting and it’s only natural that you’re having these feelings now, but don’t let it spoil your enjoyment at starting your own family. This should be a really happy and positive time for you. There’s so much to look forward to. Really, there is.’

  ‘It puts things into perspective though, doesn’t it? There’s me worrying about what colour scheme to choose for the nursery and these people are literally fighting for the chance of a life away from fear and violence. It’s not a lot to ask for, is it?’

  I shook my head, wrapping my arms around my chest. Reluctantly, I could only agree with her.

  ‘It makes me feel grateful and yet guilty at the same time. Grateful that I’m not in the same position as these poor people and guilty that I’ve got so much stuff for the baby already: clothes, linen, toys. Too much stuff probably – it doesn’t seem fair.’

  I reached across the table for the paper, my gaze scanning down the text. ‘Look if this really means so much to you, why don’t we see if we can do something to help?’

  Josie’s head dropped to the side, her brown eyes growing wide. ‘Like what? What can we possibly do?’

  ‘We could have a collection. We could put a call out to all our customers asking for donations, not money, but clothes and bedding, that sort of thing. That’s what they’re asking for here.’ I pointed to the section in the newsp
aper. ‘It wouldn’t be too difficult to organize. Didn’t your dad do something similar a few years back?’

  ‘Yes, yes he did?’ Already I heard a note of bubbling excitement in Josie’s words.

  ‘What did Dad do?’ asked Eric, wandering in at that precise moment and laying a hand on each of our shoulders, his voice full of warm humour.

  ‘Do you remember that charity appeal?’ Josie said, turning to look up at her dad. ‘When you drove over to Romania with supplies. It was ages ago now.’

  ‘Yes, we did a couple of runs actually. Filled the van to the brim with black bags full of blankets and off we went. Are you thinking we could do something similar here?’ He leaned over, perusing the photos.

  ‘Could we? Would you mind?’ I asked him.

  ‘No, of course I don’t mind. We should do whatever we can to help.’

  ‘Really, Dad? That would be so brilliant. I know you’ve got a lot of other stuff on at the moment, but some of these women are like me; expecting a baby. They haven’t even got a proper roof over their head. I can’t imagine how they must be feeling.’

  Eric nodded keenly. ‘Well let’s make it happen then.’

  ‘Oh, Eric, that’s what makes you the best landlord in town,’ I said, standing up to kiss him on the cheek.

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment even though I’m the only landlord in the village.’ Eric chuckled.

  ‘Yes, but you would still be my favourite even if there were a dozen more pubs around here. You’re the best, Eric,’ I told him. ‘I’ll put some posters up in the window and around the pub, letting people know what we’re doing. If that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course. And make sure to tell Tim too. He’s the editor of the local rag. Comes in every Friday lunch. He’ll put a piece in the paper for us. If it’s anything like last time, we’ll be inundated with donations. We can put anything that comes in straight up in the back bedroom.’