by Fiona Gibson
‘That’s okay. Is something wrong?’ A thought strikes her: he wants Buddy back. That brusqueness – it was all a cover-up, and he’s realised he’s made a terrible mistake.
James clears his throat. ‘I should have explained. You see, I’m helping my son with his business – he has a sandwich shop – while trying to keep up with my own website design work. Things have been incredibly hectic lately, but this evening, when I started to think about Buddy …’ He tails off.
‘I did wonder,’ she says carefully, running a hand over Buddy’s soft fur. How on earth will she tell Freddie and Mia that Buddy has to go back? Rob was right – it was a rash move. Even if this hadn’t happened, all kinds of things can go wrong: illness, accidents, death … Buddy opens an amber eye and looks at her. She no longer cares about his barking outburst or the fact that he pooed outside school; it’s just what dogs do.
‘… He has a few issues,’ James is saying, ‘since, er, something happened at home.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘He gets really anxious,’ James goes on, ‘like if he sees or hears another dog that he can’t greet and sniff, and if a truck goes by – any large vehicle really – and there’s been some chewing and the odd, er, little accident …’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she murmurs.
‘No, I’m sorry. I wish I’d been more honest with you from the start.’
Kerry bites her lip. His voice is lovely; warmer and friendlier than the clipped tone he’d adopted when she’d been at his house. ‘You can come and pick him up tomorrow if you like,’ she says flatly.
‘Oh. Er … right. Okay.’
There’s a stilted pause, and Buddy shifts position so as to edge further onto Kerry’s lap. ‘My children will be away with their dad then,’ she adds, ‘and I’d rather it happened when they’re not around. The sooner the better, I suppose, before they get too attached.’ Some hope of that. The entire evening has been filled with cuddling, grooming and playing with Buddy, and he seemed to relish the attention.
‘Er, I only want him back if he’s too much for you,’ James says.
‘No, I didn’t say he was too much. I thought you said you’d made a mistake …’
‘Did I?’ James sounds baffled. ‘No, I just wanted you to know what he’s like – his little quirks, I suppose. I thought you should know what you’re taking on. But he’d never hurt or bite anyone and he loves people. He’s just …’
‘A handful?’ Kerry says, laughing now and overcome with relief. ‘Oh, of course I don’t want you to take him back. Absolutely not. My children are thrilled and we all think he’s fantastic – in fact he’s asleep with his head on my lap right now.’
‘He’s doing that with you already?’ James sounds as if he’s smiling.
‘Yes, he is.’ Buddy opens an eye again and she’s filled with a rush of warmth for him. ‘I’m sure we can cope with his quirks.’
‘I’m really glad. I just felt, you know – a bit guilty …’
‘A sort of Trade Descriptions Act thing?’
‘Yeah.’ He chuckles. ‘Well, maybe I’ll run into you sometime when you’re out walking him.’
Kerry pictures James in his empty-feeling house, with a space in the hall where Buddy’s basket used to be, and it’s on the tip of her tongue to arrange something. But he clearly has too much on his plate right now. ‘I’m sure he’d like that,’ she says. ‘And thanks, James. He’s the perfect dog for us.’
Later, when Kerry goes to bed, Buddy follows her upstairs and leaps up onto her bed, settling on the lower section of the duvet. It’s tempting to let him stay there; the bed has felt huge since she moved here, and seems to have expanded even more these past few weeks. But she can’t let Buddy sleep here, as some kind of husband substitute; it would be too sad, too poor-dumped-wife to contemplate. Yet he wants to be near her, so she fetches his basket from downstairs and places it in the corner of her bedroom.
He curls up in it instantly. Soon she hears his deep, steady breathing, and as Kerry drifts towards sleep herself, she already feels a little less alone.
PART TWO
Settling in
‘There are bound to be a few small hiccups during the early days. Building a new relationship requires much time and patience.’
Your First Dog: A Complete Guide
by Jeremy Catchpole
Chapter Twenty-Five
December 1, the first snowfall
‘SNOW!’ Freddie charges into Kerry’s bedroom where she’s still submerged in duvet and launches himself on top of her.
‘Ooof,’ she cries, catching her breath. ‘What is it, Freddie?’
‘Snow, Mummy, snow!’ Mia appears in the Mickey Mouse pyjamas Rob’s parents bought her, much to his distaste. Commercial tat, he reckons, but who cares what he thinks these days? It’s childish, yes – but Kerry now derives untold pleasure from the children enjoying the things Rob regards as either ‘tacky’ (contraband chocolate cereals, all things Disney) or ‘potentially dangerous and certainly troublesome’ (dogs). She knows she shouldn’t waste brain space by considering Rob’s likes and dislikes; it’s been two months since the split, after all. Yet she can’t ignore a frisson of delight as she reflects how much he’d hate a bounding, panting animal on the bed, shedding his fur and biting playfully at a pillow. It’s astounded her, how quickly she’s fallen in love with Buddy, and how he and Freddie are providing all the male attention she needs right now (despite Brigid urging her to pounce on attractive male dog-walkers). Anyway, it’s not as if she’s being besieged by offers. At the current time, Buddy is the only male trying to lick Kerry’s face around here.
Freddie, Mia and Buddy are all on her bed now, peering out through the window as fat snowflakes fall from a colourless sky.
‘Come and see, Mummy,’ Mia commands, her face pressed up against the glass.
‘I can see from here, sweetheart …’
‘Come and see properly.’
‘Okay, okay,’ she laughs, glancing at her alarm clock as she squeezes in beside her children at the window. At 7.48 a.m., Shorling is waking to its first snowfall of the year. The row of beach huts and the ice cream kiosk are already thinly coated in white. The sea view from Kerry’s bedroom has helped to soothe her during these past eight weeks, and it’s all the better for being shrouded in fresh, storybook snow.
‘Hey, you’ve already got your boots on,’ Kerry remarks, spotting a flash of silvery rubber peeping out from Freddie’s PJ bottoms.
‘Yeah.’ Freddie’s wellies are as sparkly as disco balls, bought for him during his last visit to Rob’s parents. Rob told her he’d spotted them, glinting in their come-hither way in a shop window (as far as Mary is concerned, whatever the grandchildren desire must be theirs).
‘He slept in them,’ Mia announces, ‘like, all night.’
‘You can’t have,’ Kerry says as Freddie starts giggling.
‘I did,’ he says proudly. ‘I sleep with my wellies on every night.’
‘What, every night since you were at Nanny and Nonno’s last week?’ Kerry asks. ‘But I always tuck you in and you’re never wearing them then …’
‘He waits till you’ve gone,’ Mia offers, with a pause for effect, ‘then he puts ’em on in secret.’
‘Oh, Freddie …’
‘So I’m always ready for snow,’ he announces with a grin, and Kerry feels her spirits rise as she, the children and Buddy all bound downstairs.
They’re lucky, she reflects over a hasty breakfast. Kerry has, if she says so herself, managed to remain remarkably adult throughout the whole Rob debacle, if only because she’s been unable to think of anything which would cause him maximum inconvenience and humiliation and not have her arrested. Yet it’s the children who have emerged as the real stars of this New Situation. While their friendships here are still a little tentative, the announcement that Daddy has spread his seed to produce a new poppet triggered, after the initial confusion, a distinct air of – well, not excitement
exactly, but curiosity. And right now, Kerry reflects, Nadine is likely to be vomiting noisily into the washbasin and cursing Rob for ruining her young life.
*
An hour later, after a frantic search for gloves, hats and scarves, the children are whizzing on sledges down the slopes of Thorny Park in the crisp sunshine. Soon they’re joined by Brigid and Joe, who busies himself by bossing Freddie and Mia around, demanding turns on Mia’s ‘faster’ sledge and lobbing snowballs at his mother. The fact that her children accept Joe’s superior role hints, Kerry suspects, that they are impressed by his cocky attitude. Meanwhile, Roxy seems happiest sitting regally on the sidelines, observing Buddy tearing around in circles, as if running just for the joy of it. She loves that about him: how easily pleased he is, delighting in being free.
‘It’s funny,’ she tells Brigid, ‘but I can’t imagine being without him.’
Brigid smiles. ‘It happens amazingly quickly, doesn’t it?’
‘It really does. I know there’s all the walking, and we still have barking outbursts and he’s terrified of the toilet flush and there’s been the odd pee on the kitchen floor. But in other ways he’s so … undemanding.’
‘And there’s the man-attracting thing I told you about,’ Brigid adds.
‘Oh, I’m sure you’re right, but I’m so not looking for anyone right now.’
Brigid raises a brow. ‘Not even casually?’
‘No, not even that. God, I just feel … I don’t have the headspace for that.’
‘Not even just a quickie in the afternoon while the kids are in school?’
Kerry bursts out laughing. ‘God. No. No, thanks.’
‘Well,’ Brigid says, ‘maybe you should.’
Kerry looks at her and frowns. ‘Why? Do I seem … I don’t know … as if I sort of need it? Like I’m frustrated or something? Don’t tell me I’m giving off desperate vibes …’
‘No, I just mean, it’d be nice for you. You’re either teaching or writing your songs or looking after the children and, well, we all need a little treat sometimes.’
Kerry turns this possibility over in her mind. Even if she were to meet someone – and God knows how she’d do that – would she be capable of desiring a man, of unearthing her libido when her head is filled with shopping lists, school forms, Cuckoo Clock and teaching? When she forces herself to think about sex, she can’t imagine it ever feeling like a lovely, natural thing to do. If it were on the cards, she’d have to regard it as a project – like lagging the boiler – and mentally prepare herself for it.
‘I don’t have a sex drive any more,’ she confides. ‘Maybe it’s the whole Rob thing, or work – I mean, it’s hard to think about being naked with someone when you’re desperately trying to figure out lyrics about birds flying off to Africa for their winter holidays. It kind of kills it for me.’
Brigid eyes her solemnly. ‘Yes, I can imagine, but you still have needs, Kerry. You owe it to yourself.’
Kerry chuckles. ‘No, I think I’m going to turn into a withered old lady with a crocheted blanket over my knees, doing the puzzles in Woman’s Weekly.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. You’re only thirty-seven. Men are always checking you out, you know.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ Kerry laughs witheringly and glances down the hill where the children are patting snow onto their snowman’s belly. In the distance, a tall figure is marching purposely along the whitened path; spotting him, Buddy tears away from the children and races towards him, leaping up in delight. ‘Oh, God,’ Kerry blurts out, charging down the hill, already apologising, then realising, as the man turns toward her, that it’s James. ‘I guess he’s just pleased to see you,’ she says with relief.
‘Hey, Buddy-boy. Good to see you too.’ James smiles and bends down to ruffle his fur.
Hot on Kerry’s heels, Brigid flashes James a big, bold smile as he straightens up.
‘Brigid,’ Kerry says, ‘this is James, Buddy’s previous owner.’
‘Nice to meet you, James.’ She tosses back her abundant fair hair. ‘Buddy’s such a character.’
‘Well,’ James says hesitantly, ‘he’s been through a lot over the past couple of years.’
‘Oh, what happened?’ Brigid asks, and Kerry flinches at her brazenness.
‘Um …’ James pauses, picking up a stick and throwing it in a huge arc for Buddy to chase. ‘I guess it started when we lost Suzie, then he got even worse when …’ He tails off and shrugs, as if having second thoughts about sharing it.
‘Oh.’ Kerry glances at Brigid, willing her not to fire any more questions.
‘Were they really close?’ Brigid fixes him with wide, concerned eyes.
‘Yes, inseparable really.’ He looks down at Buddy, who’s brought the stick back to him and dropped it at his feet. ‘It was very sudden, you see. The worst part was, it was completely my fault.’
Kerry frowns. ‘God, James, how awful for you.’
‘I reversed over her,’ he adds quietly.
‘What?’ Kerry blurts out. ‘That’s terrible …’
‘You poor, poor man,’ Brigid exclaims.
‘Oh,’ he adds, throwing the stick again, ‘it was awful, and of course I wish it hadn’t happened. But she was getting on a bit, she had terrible arthritis and was incontinent …’
Kerry blinks at him, unable to scrabble together an appropriate response. So James ran over his wife, yet is implying that, as she had health issues, it wasn’t such a tragedy? She looks over to where the children are gathering up twigs for their snowman’s hair. Adding a pleasing finishing touch, Joe manages to locate a dropped cigarette butt – possibly the only one in Shorling – and jabs it into the snowman’s mouth.
‘So I guess Buddy had a lot of readjusting to do,’ Brigid murmurs.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ James says.
Kerry catches Brigid’s eye, wondering how to shift the conversation towards lighter territory, like how things are going at the sandwich shop.
‘I did think about getting another one,’ James adds.
‘Another wife?’ Kerry gasps. ‘Well … I suppose there’s nothing wrong with wanting to meet someone else. I, er … guess you had to move on …’ She wants to leave the park now, maybe head for the seafront and treat everyone to an extortionately priced hot chocolate with whipped cream. She realises James is studying her intently, a look of incredulity in his soft grey eyes.
‘No,’ he says carefully, ‘I mean, I thought of getting another dog.’
Kerry blinks at him. ‘Did you think that might help? Getting another pet, I mean, after losing your wife …’
‘I didn’t lose my wife,’ he says levelly. ‘She left. Met someone else.’
‘Oh, I thought you meant you’d run over her!’ Brigid exclaims with a great barking laugh.
‘So did I,’ says Kerry, blushing furiously, ‘and that maybe it was for the best what with her arthritis and incontinence and …’
James gawps at Kerry and Brigid in turn. ‘You think I reversed over my arthritic, incontinent wife?’
‘Well … yes.’ Kerry tries to trap a laugh. ‘I misunderstood. I’m sorry.’ Her shoulders are shaking now, and she’s convulsing inside while trying to maintain a ridiculously solemn expression.
‘You assumed I’d reversed over my wife,’ James says, ‘and thought that was okay?’
‘No, no of course not,’ Kerry splutters.
‘Suzie was a King Charles spaniel,’ he says levelly.
‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ Kerry exclaims. ‘Not that she died, of course, but because, er …’ She is filled with relief when Freddie runs over, demanding, ‘Who are you?’
‘Freddie,’ Kerry says quickly, ‘that’s a bit rude …’
‘I’m James,’ he says, thawing a little. ‘Buddy used to be mine.’
‘We love Buddy,’ Freddie announces. ‘Why didn’t you like him?’
‘Er, it wasn’t quite like that,’ James says briskly. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back, ma
ke sure Luke hasn’t burnt the place down trying to make a panini …’
Brigid flashes another beaming smile. ‘Well, hopefully we’ll run into you again sometime, James. It’s been lovely meeting you.’
‘Yes, hope to see you around,’ he says unconvincingly, before virtually sprinting away.
‘God.’ Kerry grins as Freddie scampers back to join Mia and Joe. ‘That dead wife thing.’
‘I know.’ Brigid shakes her head. ‘Gorgeous, though, don’t you think? Lovely eyes.’
‘Er … yes, I did notice that.’ She grins.
‘You should call him,’ Brigid adds.
‘Oh, sure, after implying that he not only killed his wife but thought it was probably for the best, seeing as she had some toileting issues …’
They start laughing again, prompting the children to turn and look at them quizzically. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t hold that against you,’ Brigid sniggers.
‘What about you?’ Kerry asks. ‘You were in full-on flirt mode unless I was misreading the signs …’
‘Oh, that was just to remind you how it’s done. Go on – you still have his number, don’t you? It’s almost as if it’s meant to be, you two meeting through Buddy like that. I told you dogs were good for that kind of thing …’ Then an oversized snowball hits Kerry on the side of the head, and soon she and Brigid are under siege, screaming and laughing beneath a hail of missiles, all thoughts of James forgotten.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Snow has been falling in soft flurries since Saturday, but Rob barely registers the white rooftops as he and Nadine leave her flat on Monday morning. It’s proper snow, too, the kind that Mia and Freddie love: fluffy and light, demanding to be caught in mittened hands.
‘More snow,’ Nadine remarks.
‘Uh-huh,’ Rob says, although he couldn’t care less about the weather. Today, rather boldly, they have taken the same day off work, because they are going to see a scan of their baby. The pavements are slushy and, without thinking, Rob takes Nadine’s stripy-gloved hand protectively in his. He’s startled by the realisation that he wants – no, needs to look after her. Just a week ago he was still wishing the baby wouldn’t happen: that it would fade away, sadly but also – he hates to admit this – conveniently too. Although he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that this would magically fix things between him and Kerry, it would certainly be easier than having a child with a girl with whom he’d exchanged less than a dozen words prior to his fortieth birthday. However, Rob is ashamed of this now, and determined to man up about the whole business. As they step into the packed Tube carriage, with him managing not to ask someone to give Nadine a seat as she is with child, he simply wants reassurance that the baby is okay.
