We sat on a picnic bench changing our shoes and sharing a bottle of water. "What have you got planned for today," said Andy, tying his laces. "Are you off to do your weird dog whisperer shit?"
"It's not weird and it's not shit," I said, "it's company, and they never judge me." I took the bottle from his hand and brought it to my mouth. "I sometimes think they're better than people."
Andy slapped me on my back, forcing water from my mouth in a spluttering fountain. "You definitely need a bird, mate. You need someone to straighten you out."
Chapter Fifteen
~Emily~
"Are you really sure?" I said, closing the car door. "It's a big responsibility."
Megan closed her door and locked the car, the beeping sound of the central locking starting a cacophony of barking dogs.
"We always had one when I was growing up," said Megan, joining me on the concrete path that led to the main doors. "And I always promised myself that when the time came to get one of my own, it would be a rescue dog."
The Budbury dog and donkey sanctuary was a sprawling farm complex of buildings and fields that didn't necessarily stick to the rigid rules of its name. On previous visits I'd seen plenty of dogs, a few donkeys, a llama, and an ostrich. It seemed it was a sanctuary that would take on any animal in need.
"I've heard they tie you down more than kids," I warned.
"Well, I'll never be having kids," said Megan, "so I'll never be able to tell you if that's right or wrong." Megan was absolutely sure she'd never have children. Even as a child, she'd disliked kids, so I had no reason to doubt her sincerity. "You can put a dog in the kennels while you go on holiday," continued Megan, "I'm not sure you can do that with rug rats."
I laughed at the image of Megan hustling her children into a dogs home, while she jetted off overseas for a two week break. The fact that I could picture it so vividly, reinforced my own belief that she shouldn't have kids. Some people were cut out for it, and some were probably better off with a dog.
A blast of warm air hit my face as I opened the door into the reception area. A bubbly young woman greeted us. She wore a green, hair covered t-shirt, embroidered with the logo of a dog and a donkey touching noses. Scratch marks ran the full length of both forearms and she broke into a wide smile as we approached.
"Good morning!" she gushed, "I'm Alison, how may I help?"
She came across as somebody who actually enjoyed their job, rather than simply tolerating it.
"I'd like a dog," said Megan, leaning on the counter.
The girl smiled. "You're welcome to have a look around," she said, "but we'd have to do a home check before we could let you take one."
Megan nodded. "Yes, I understand," she said, "I think it's a good policy."
"We like to think so," said the girl. "Feel free to go through to the animals," she said, pointing to a steel door at the back of the room. "And all donations are welcome," she suggested, indicating the metal tin on the desk with her eyes.
"Have you got your purse?" said Megan, turning to me. "I've left mine in the car.
I sighed, and fished a crumpled note out of my jeans pocket. "I've got a tenner," I said.
"I'll give it back to you later," said Megan, grabbing it from my outstretched hand.
I could write that ten pounds off, Megan had a habit of forgetting her purse — at restaurants, bars, and now, it seemed — dog and donkey sanctuaries.
"Thank you!" beamed the girl as Megan dropped my money in the tin. "Some of the dogs are out for walkies, but they'll be back soon. If you see one you like, just let me know."
I followed Megan through the doors and into a small courtyard with a path that led to a long shed where the dogs were housed. Other paths led to fields and enclosures where the more exotic animals, and the donkeys were kept.
Megan lead the way into the shed, the smell of dogs hitting me before the door was even opened. Cages ran along either side of the walkway, and the barking of dogs was deafening.
"Hello, boy!" cooed Megan, kneeling at the first cage she came to. "Who's a good boy then?"
The cross breed inside looked at her with doleful eyes and leapt at the cage, bearing its teeth and spraying saliva as it barked at Megan, going for the fingers that she'd poked through the square holes in the bars.
Megan pulled her hand to safety and leapt backwards. "Having a bad day, huh?" she said, moving on to the next cage.
I steered clear of the first dog and followed Megan down the line of mutts and pedigrees. As Megan bent down to converse with a particularly large eyed pug, I tapped her on the shoulder and raised my voice to make myself heard over the ever increasing chorus of barks. "I'm going to look at the other animals," I said, pointing at the door at the far end of the shed.
"Okay," said Megan, as the pug made his eyes even bigger in an attempt to get his forever home. "He's lush, isn't he?"
I hadn't heard Megan use the word lush since we'd been in school, and I wasn't sure that it was an appropriate word for the drooling animal anyway. "Yes, he's nice," I said, leaving her side and making my way towards the door, and the promise of fresh air, and maybe even an ostrich.
The door opened onto a gravel path that ran between fields and shelter sheds for the animals. The track snaked off into the distance towards the River Avon which wound its way through the base of the valley, glinting in the morning sun.
I took a deep breath of fresh air and made my way towards a field in which I could definitely see a long legged flightless bird.
As I approached and realised that I was probably looking at an emu and not an ostrich, I saw a man coming up the hill towards me, surrounded by six or seven dogs on leashes that ran ahead of him, reminding me of a husky pack pulling a sled over the snow.
The emu, maybe ostrich, strutted across its paddock towards me as I leaned on the fence and made a clucking sound with my tongue. Its eyes swivelled in its head and it rocked its head back and for on the long neck that swayed as it walked.
I wondered if I could persuade Megan to take it home, rather than the pug she'd seemed so enamoured with. It would make a great addition to her large garden and I wouldn't be persuaded to walk it for her.
The man walking the pack of dogs got nearer and I turned my head to greet him as I heard the sound of his footsteps.
"Hello, Emily," he said, a huge smile splashed across his face. "You couldn't stay away from me, could you?"
Jack. What the hell was Jack doing at an animal sanctuary on a Sunday morning, walking dogs — one of which I was sure I'd heard him call Mister Snuggles.
I turned my attention away from the bird and stared at Jack. "What the hell are you doing here?" I said.
"You're supposed to be the genius," he said, nodding at the mini pack of dogs that strained on their leashes to get to me. "What's it look like I'm doing?"
Jack struggled to keep the dogs under control and he had a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. It looked like he was being run ragged by a bunch of disobedient mutts, but I didn't say that.
"It looks like you're walking dogs, Jack," I said, rolling my eyes. "I meant, what the hell are you doing here. Why are you walking dogs?"
Jack raised his voice at the dog that was making the most effort to reach me, his tongue hanging inches from his mouth and his tail a blur of friendliness. "Mister Snuggles, will you fucking calm down!"
I tried to stifle a giggle, but failed miserably. "Mister Snuggles?" I laughed, "please tell me there's a good reason for that name."
"I didn't name him," Jack said, "I have no fucking idea where he got his name." He pointed at a tiny cross breed, which sat at his feet looking bewildered with the world. "I named him," he said. Jacks voice raised in pitch and he bent down to ruffle the dog's head. "Didn't I, Hercules?"
I laughed. I couldn't do anything but laugh. "Back to my question," I said, giving Mister Snuggles the back of my hand to sniff. "Why are you here?"
Jack shrugged. "I volunteered here once, when the club was trying to raise
its profile, and I sort of… fell in love with the little guys."
"But Jack," I said, saving my hand from Mister Snuggles's slobbering tongue. "Why isn't this in the newspapers? This is just the sort of story you need to give yourself the sort of credentials the club wants. The newspapers would love it!"
"No chance," said Jack, pulling the dogs nearer to him. "Some of these animals have been through hell at the hands of humans. I'm here to help them trust again, not use their misery to make myself feel better."
I felt a tear prick the corner of my eye, and it wasn't due to the cold morning breeze that blew across the fields. Seeing Jack so protective of the dogs, and seeing the respect they had for him, had flipped a switch inside me. It had made me realise that he wasn't all bluster and bad manners — he could be selfless, and he had a heart — he had the ability to care.
I suddenly wanted to help him. I wanted to make sure I did whatever I could for him before I went to Germany.
"Jack, listen," I said, "about the other day. I'm sorry okay. If you want to come back, my door is open."
His dimples travelled an inch higher on either side of his mouth as he smiled. "I knew you couldn't stay away from me," he said, with a wink. "You want me."
"Don't push your luck Pit Bull," I said, "I don't want you, as you so eloquently put it. I want to help you."
He ran a hand through his hair and grinned. "You work on that, and I'll work on getting what I want," he said, "you know she wants me don't you Mister Snuggles?"
Mister Snuggles yapped and span in a circle. "See," said Jack, "dogs understand people better than people understand themselves."
"How long has Mister Snuggles been here?" I said, changing the awkward subject.
"Six months or so," said Jack, "no one wants him because he's almost blind."
"He doesn't look blind," I said, watching the dog as he sniffed the air.
"He's got a good nose and ears," said Jack, "he doesn't need his eyes."
"Follow me," I said, turning towards the shed. "I think I know somebody who would love to give him a home."
As soon as Megan had got over the shock of seeing Jack again, and sneaked a long look at his arse as he bent over to release Mister Snuggles from his leash — which gave me irrational pangs of jealousy, she was all over the little dog.
"Aw, he's blind?" she said, tickling it behind the ear. "He's so cute."
"Do you want to give him a home?" said Jack, putting the other dogs back in their cages.
"How could I say no?" said Megan. She bent down and cupped Mister Snuggles's face in her hands. "Do you want to come and live with me?" she said, in a high pitched voice.
Jack laughed. "I'll take you through to Gemma, she'll make the arrangements."
As Megan spoke to the friendly girl who'd greeted us when we'd arrived and parted Megan with my money, I sat down in a small waiting area with Jack, drinking weak tea from plastic cups.
"So, when do you want to try again?" I said, trying not to let my eyes linger on his face for too long. I was having thoughts that could be deemed unprofessional.
"Whenever you like," he said, not being so coy about allowing his own eyes to wander over me. He paused for just too long on my chest, and I cleared my throat. "Up here, Jack," I said, pointing at my face.
At least he had the decency to break off his ogling stare. "Sorry," he said.
"I was thinking," I said, "sometimes the office environment can be a little overwhelming. Would you feel better if we met elsewhere? Somewhere you felt more calm? Maybe that would help you to open up a little."
Jack's eyes twinkled as he crumpled his empty cup in his fist and tossed it into the bin. "I know just the place," he said.
Chapter Sixteen
~Emily~
Mister Snuggles had settled in nicely with Megan. The minute she'd seen him and heard his story from Jack, who she was as surprised to see as I had been, she'd fallen in love with him.
"When are you going to change his name?" I said, sipping the concoction that Megan had described as a cocktail.
Megan curled her feet beneath her and patted the sofa. The little dog leapt up and curled himself into a ball next to her.
"I'm not," said Megan, stroking the spot between his ears. "He's nearly blind, he needs normality in his life. Changing his name would be too much for him."
"Mister Snuggles though?" I smiled, "that's a hell of a name."
"It suits him," said Megan, "he loves snuggling, and he's male. It's a perfect name."
Megan sipped her drink and shuddered. "I got the measurements wrong," she said.
"You got the ingredients wrong," I laughed, "you could strip paint with this stuff."
"It does the job though doesn't it? You look like you're seeing double."
I did feel tipsy, but I could see perfectly straight. I could see straight enough to see that in the google search bar on Megan's tablet, was the name that had been running through my mind for days. Jack Bailey.
I reached forward and grabbed it from the coffee table. "Are you suddenly a rugby fan? I can't think of any other reason why you'd be googling Jack Bailey," I smiled.
"Well spotted, I'll have to remember to be more careful with my browsing history. Some of the things I search for could get me in a lot of trouble," she said with a wink. "Just like rugby boy could get you in a lot of trouble."
"So he's rugby boy now is he?" I said, "it's got a ring to it, I'll give you that. I don't see how he can get me into trouble though."
"Not regular trouble," said Megan, pulling a thorn from Mister Snuggles's thick fur and flicking it across the room. "Emotional trouble."
I tried to look confused. "Whaaat?" I said, my voice an octave too high as I dragged the word out. "What do you mean?"
Megan tilted her head and raised both eyebrows in an all knowing stare that made me squirm. "You know exactly what I mean," she said, "I saw you at the dog sanctuary, twirling your hair and puckering your lips. Little Miss Flirty, that would be your name if you were one of the Mister Men… or Missus Men, whatever they're called. You were drooling over him… that's my point."
"I was not," I said, heat rising in my cheeks.
"Oh yes you were, Emily, and you arranged to see him again. I heard you mentioning times and dates when you thought I was busy with my new doggy."
My throat burned as I took a long swallow of whatever it was that was in my glass. "He needs some help, that's all."
"Like an appointment? In your office?" said Megan.
"Yes," I said, hoping the conversation wasn't going where I was ninety-nine percent sure it was. "An appointment in my office."
Megan took her legs from beneath her and leaned over the coffee table, a sly smile on her face. "So no trips on… let me think, a boat, on a river. Nothing like that then?"
I grabbed the cushion that was on my lap and threw it at her. She caught it in mid-flight and laughed. "You should have been a little quieter if you didn't want me and Mister Snuggles to hear."
"You shouldn't have been listening," I said, "anyway, it's all professional. I wanted to get him somewhere where he feels calm. I thought it would help him open up to me."
"And you do that with all your clients do you? Arrange river trips? You don't even like water, Emily. The last time you went swimming the lifeguard thought you were drowning."
That had been embarrassing. The guard had leapt from his high seat and dived in to save me, only to realise I had quite an unorthodox swimming style.
"It wasn't my idea," I said, "I asked Jack to think of somewhere where he feels calm and he suggested it, and yes, I would do it with my other clients, if I thought it would help."
Megan snorted and Mister Snuggles snapped his head into the air, looking panicked. Megan put a reassuring hand on his back and he settled down again. "I can picture it now," she said, "you and Peter Cross drifting along the River Avon on a boat. Peter in his captain's outfit, standing behind you, his hands on yours as he teaches you how to steer."
&
nbsp; I laughed at the image. "Maybe not him," I said.
"Do you really think a man like Jack Bailey wants to go on a cruise down the river to help clear his mind, or do you think it's more likely that he wants to get you alone, somewhere you can't escape from, somewhere he can have his wicked way with you?" Megan's face lit up. "That's it isn't it, Emily. You're blushing! You want him don't you?"
I shook my head and spluttered as my drink went down the wrong way. "Of course not," I protested, "I genuinely just want to help him."
"Well, you just be careful. You've got a job in Germany around the corner, and you'd better not jeopardise that because of a man. I happen to want to see Germany. I'm looking forward to visiting you and getting my share of the sausage which I'm told is so good." Megan's face distorted into the expression she used for delivering innuendos. "And some of the Frankfurter," she said.
Even Mister Snuggles made an exasperated sound. "You always have to lower the tone," I laughed, "like I said. It's professional, that's all. I'll still be going to Germany if I get the job, and I've certainly got no feelings for Jack Bailey. I hardly know him."
"On the contrary," said Megan, "you know him very well indeed, and I think you want a little more of what he gave you in that hotel room."
There was nothing little about what Jack had given me in the hotel room, but I didn't want to take Megan's mind any further down that track.
"Anyway, enough of that," I said, straightening my face into a look of seriousness. "I'm hungry, are you going to cook or are we ordering pizza?"
Megan climbed off the sofa. "I'm not bloody cooking," she said," I'll get the menu."
As the sounds of Megan searching her kitchen drawers for the menu got Mister Snuggles's attention, I picked up Megan's tablet again, and clicked on images in the search bar below Jack's name.
A photo of him holding a trophy above his head was first in the results, and I stared at his smiling face. He had got under my skin, and I didn't quite know why.
Pitbull: He plays hard on the field...He plays harder off it. Page 7
