The Saturday Morning Park Run: A gloriously uplifting and page-turning book that will make you feel happy!

by Jules Wake

  ‘Do you always come armed with toast?’ asked Ash, as the three of us watched the dog slavishly rounding up every last crumb.

  ‘Armed and dangerous, me,’ said Hilda with a chuckle, tossing the second piece to the dog, who gave a little yip of pleasure and repeated the same little dance before pinning the toast down and wolfing it down in a couple of mouthfuls.

  ‘The wardens make a fuss if you don’t eat breakfast. I wasn’t hungry this morning but they only agreed to release me into the wild when I said I’d take my toast with me for my constitutional.’

  ‘Poor chap is starving,’ I said as the dog came to sit in front of Hilda, his warm brown eyes full of hope as he gazed up at her.

  ‘Yes, he needs a good meal. Ash, you’ll have to take him.’

  ‘Me!’ Ash sat up straight, as though he’d been poked with a cattle prod, a familiar golden flash in his eyes which caught me unawares.

  Damn. A sudden buzz of attraction shot through me and I swallowed a hefty slug of coffee to chase it away.

  ‘Yes, you. I can’t take him back to the home. And Claire’s got enough on her plate. The company will do you good.’

  ‘But he’s someone else’s dog. I can’t just take him home. Besides, I don’t want a dog.’

  Hilda laughed. ‘Of course you do.’

  Ash frowned but before he could deny it again, she added, ‘But like you say, he might just be lost. If we take him to the rescue centre, Melanie there will check him over. Scan him to see if he has a chip.’

  ‘We?’ Those eyes flashed again and I crossed my legs. Nothing to see here, I told my libido firmly.

  ‘You have got a car, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well then. Just look at him. He’s your dog.’

  I bit back a smile because it was true. The dog, it appeared, had taken ownership of Ash. Having given up on the possibility of more toast, he had sidled up to Ash’s leg and was leaning so hard against it that if Ash moved his leg the dog would topple right over.

  And just out of sight, Ash’s hand was surreptitiously rubbing the dog’s chest.

  ‘You take the dog home, feed him, and pick me up at Sunnyside in an hour and a half, and we’ll go to the rescue place,’ said Hilda. ‘Claire, do you want to come too?’

  ‘She can’t,’ said Ash. ‘I’ve got a Porsche. Not much room in the back, not with a dog as well.’

  ‘A Porsche? Oh, well. Claire looks quite bendy; I’m sure she can squeeze in the back.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s got better things to be doing.’ Bitterness ground into the lines around his mouth.

  ‘No, she hasn’t. Claire’s been signed off with stress for the rest of the month.’

  Hilda’s chatty confidence made me blush a brilliant scarlet. I could have killed her. It was the last thing I wanted Ash to know. I waited for some sarcastic response and when it didn’t come, I dared to glance his way. He studied me with an impassive expression that was totally unreadable.

  ‘She needs something to do, don’t you, dear?’

  Chapter Ten

  Being in the back of a Porsche 911 with a hairy dog breathing down my neck did not rank high on my needing-something-to-do list. Clambering in had been an exercise in contortion to start with, especially as the dog was already taking up most of the miniscule back seat. As soon as I’d nestled my bum into the soft cream leather seat, the dog began to fidget; one minute he was sprawled on my lap, the next leaning against me, his wet nose on my neck and a second later he was trying to climb over the gear stick to the front seat.

  ‘Sit,’ said Ash, gruff and deep, after the dog’s third attempt to scramble into the front. ‘Can you at least try and hold him?’ he snapped.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I said, wrapping both arms around him and hauling the dog back. Without warning, he flopped onto me, knocking me sideways, snuggled in, and laid his head on my lap, gazing up with those quizzical, warm brown eyes. ‘Stupid dog,’ I whispered, as I stroked the baby punk-rocker Mohican on his head, my fingers working into the soft fur around his floppy ears. I felt the reassuring beat of his heart, slow and steady against my leg.

  ‘He really likes you, Claire.’ Hilda’s head bobbed around the head rest.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  She pretended innocence and turned back to Ash, who was programming the sat nav.

  ‘You won’t need that,’ she said. ‘I’ll direct you. You need to head down Church Road and then at the bottom take a left out towards Hookleigh. The rescue place is in Lower Hookleigh.’

  ‘How do you know about it?’ I asked.

  ‘The rescue centre sometimes brings dogs to the old folks’ home to cheer us up. I have to say, it does wonders for some of the old dears. Proper perks them up, it does.’

  It amused me, the way she refused to identify herself with the other residents.

  With a throaty roar, the engine burst into life and with my hand on the dog’s head, stroking his soft ears, I leaned back and tried to get as comfortable as I could while squished in with my knees almost touching my chin.

  Behind the wheel, Ash had regained some of that old Ashwin Laghari confidence and drove with flashy style, handling the car with obvious skill – not that I appreciated it that much from the position I was in, wedged up against the back of his seat.

  ‘Hilda,’ Ash’s voice cut in. ‘The signpost says Hookleigh is to the right.’

  ‘Oh, yes, sorry dear. I never was very good at left and right. Caused the occasional problem when I was on surveillance duties in MI6.’

  Ash caught my eye in the mirror and raised an eyebrow but neither of us said anything. At that moment, the dog let out an enormous fart.

  ‘Dear me,’ said Hilda. ‘I’ve been saying for ages that marmalade wasn’t any good for us. No wonder all the old fellas are trumping left, right, and centre. I’ll have to have a word with the management.’

  ‘Thanks, dog,’ I said trying to hold my breath as Ash wound down the windows.

  Ash chuckled but when I met his eyes again in the mirror, they suddenly went serious and held mine long enough to make my heart do a funny flip in my chest. He looked as if he were trying to figure something out about me and I had to turn away. He’d had his chance; he wasn’t getting another one.

  Melanie at the rescue centre bounded over to us with button-bright eyes and the smiliest face I’d ever seen. In her grey overalls and bright red wellies, she could have doubled as a member of some futuristic militia. Without bothering to address any of us, she immediately dropped to her knees in front of the dog.

  ‘Aren’t you a gorgeous lad, then?’ she said in a broad Yorkshire accent as she held out her hand and ruffled the fur around his neck. The dog sniffed and whined, poking his nose at her hand. ‘And hungry. He can smell food on me.’

  ‘I’ve just fed him a couple of cooked organic chicken fillets,’ protested Ash.

  ‘If he hasn’t eaten for a few days, you need to go slowly.’ Melanie rubbed his ears and I swear the dog let out a sigh of contentment. ‘Where’s he come from?’

  ‘We found him in the park,’ said Hilda. ‘He’s been there a couple of days we think.’

  ‘Hmm, no collar and if he’s had a bath or been groomed in the last month, I’m a flaming Christmas tree fairy… which,’ she brushed a hand over her lumpy overalls, ‘I’m clearly not.’ She lifted the pads of his feet to examine them, shaking her wiry deep-auburn curls. ‘Abandoned, I’m guessing. Bloody folk, don’t deserve to have dogs. How hard is it? Feed ’em, walk ’em, love ’em. Piece of piss, you’d o’ thought.’

  She hauled a small handheld device from one of her deep, utilitarian pockets, very like the scanners you get in supermarkets. ‘I can check him for a chip but I’m not holding out much hope.’

  She ran the scanner over the dog’s neck, shoulders and upper bag. ‘Thought as much. People who are likely to abandon a dog rather than try to rehome it aren’t going to go to the trouble and expense of getting it chipped.’

  Ri
sing to her feet, she put her hands on her hips and surveyed the three of us with a shake of her head. ‘I can’t take him, I’m afraid. We’re full as full can be. And I’m struggling to feed this lot as it is.’ She waved her hand towards a row of stone buildings from which emanated a range of barks and yips.

  ‘There’s three of you.’ Now her smiley face had morphed into that of a stern slightly disapproving head mistress.

  Ash and I both shifted our feet like a pair of naughty school children.

  ‘I’d have him like a shot but they’re not that keen on pets at Drearyside, you know that, Melanie,’ said Hilda, smugness radiating in her voice as she beamed at Ash and me.

  ‘Yeah, real shame. They’d do some of those inmates the power of good. That Elsie Goodman actually smiled when I brought the little black and white terrier in three weeks back. Miserable old crow hasn’t cracked her face in years.’

  ‘That one was born like that.’ Hilda’s slightly plummy voice had suddenly adopted a distinct touch of Yorkshire. ‘I hear she had a fearsome reputation when she ran the haberdasher’s in the High Street.’

  ‘I remember it well. Me mam used to send our dad to buy her wool because she was so flaming scared of her.’

  ‘And look what one little dog can do. They bring so much joy.’ Hilda levelled another of her overbright smiles our way. Conniving old bat.

  ‘Aye. What about you?’ She turned her eyes on Ash. The dog was leaning against his leg.

  ‘I don’t want a dog,’ said Ash. ‘I’m just the taxi driver.’

  Melanie raised a supercilious eyebrow. ‘With a vehicle like that you can afford to feed him.’

  ‘Happy to make a donation,’ said Ash with the hopeful look of someone who’d just seen a way to slip the leash.

  ‘Happy to take one but I can’t magic up another run.’ Her eyes narrowed with the cunning of a fox. ‘If you can house him temporarily, I might be able to see what I can do.’

  Before Ash could say anything, Hilda jumped right in. ‘You could do that. You said you were between jobs, so it’ll be perfect. And he really likes you. And I can dog-sit if you have to go out for any length of time. Besides, you need a dog more than Claire.’

  At that, Ash and I exchanged startled looks.

  ‘That’s sorted then.’ Mel beamed as Ash realised events had escaped him and started to splutter objections but she talked right over them. ‘I can sell you some dog food, a collar and a lead, and a dog bed, if you want one.’

  ‘Done,’ said Hilda, turning back to Ash and patting his shoulder. ‘That’s helpful, isn’t it? We don’t have to go shopping.’ She followed Mel who bustled away to an office building on the other side of the flagstone courtyard.

  Ash frowned and then lifted his head my way. ‘How did that just happen?’

  I lifted my shoulders trying to hide a smile, relieved that I’d escaped the Hilda treatment.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  I was dying to ask what ‘between jobs’ meant. Gardening leave? Annual leave? What had reduced the arrogant, super-confident Ashwin Laghari to the sullen, bitter Ash in his grubby grey sweats. Although, as I glanced down at what had quickly become my uniform of leggings, T-shirt and navy sweatshirt with a big Superman S emblazoned on the front, I wasn’t much better. Funnily enough though, I didn’t miss my little suits with their neat lapels and nipped in waists half as much as I’d thought I would.

  Chapter Eleven

  Four o’clock in the morning phone calls never bode well and, as I ran down the chilly wooden stairs, my brain quickly jumped to a million conclusions. My parents.

  Oh God, please let my parents be all right.

  Fear clenched at my heart as I grabbed the receiver.

  ‘Why don’t you answer your mobile?’

  Alice’s petulant voice came down the line, tinny and aggrieved.

  ‘What?’ Bleary-eyed and forcefully ejected from sleep, my brain hadn’t quite caught up with my feet.

  ‘Your mobile. You didn’t answer.’

  ‘I left it downstairs,’ I finally managed to muster the words. ‘How are you? Have you had a great time? What time does your flight leave?’ I assumed she was just about to board the aeroplane. ‘The girls are very excited about coming to pick you up.’ They’d missed her so much. It would be just like that Love Actually sequence that never failed to make me cry, the one with the people being met by their loved ones at the airport. We were planning to make a hasty exit from school, drive to Manchester and meet her flight which was due to land at five-thirty.

  ‘Thing is Claire, I’ve… erm… well there’s been a bit of… I missed the internal flight. There’s been a landslide.’

  ‘What?’ Missing a flight was one of my worst nightmares. ‘Oh my God. Are you okay?’

  ‘Calm down, Claire. I knew you’d be like this. You really do need get your chakras realigned, you know.’

  ‘But you missed your flight. What are you going to do?’ My voice pitched with the anxiety that my sister should have been feeling.

  ‘Well there’s not a lot I can do but it’s all fine. It is what it is.’ Her businesslike tone was suddenly replaced by a far dreamier one. ‘Oh God, Claire, you should see it. It’s so beautiful here. I’ve never felt so much in touch with my life-force. The resort is just amazing, you know, and the people and… I love India. It’s so spiritual; I feel like me again. Cleansed and whole. I can breathe again. Like I’ve been in an iron lung or something for most of my life, you know, and now I’m free. Released like a butterfly from a cocoon to taste the nectar of life. I’m all gossamer wings and floating free. It’s the most amazing feeling.’

  ‘The girls are going to be gutted,’ I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. Ava would be devastated, with lots of tears and drama but far worse, Poppy would be stoic. I could picture her fine-boned, impassive little face. Poppy did stoicism a little too well. ‘So when’s the next flight?’

  There was a too long pause.

  ‘The thing is… well, not until… next Sunday.’

  ‘Next Sunday? Not this Sunday?’

  ‘Yeah, well, like I said, the landslide…’

  ‘So are you stranded there?’

  ‘Yes,’ she seized on my words with undue relief. ‘But it’s okay. It’s only another week. I think I’ll be back next Sunday. Can’t guarantee it but I’ll call you. Besides, with school and their friends, the girls aren’t going to miss me. And this really has been a life-changing trip. I’ll be able to give them so much more as a person when I get back.’

  ‘Can you really not get back any sooner?’ I asked, my mind racing through the practicalities. ‘You’ve got parents’ evening and stuff next week.’

  ‘Claire, you can manage all that for me standing on your head. Besides, it’s always the same old lecture about not doing homework or reading with Ava.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Claire, chill. The girls will be fine with you.’

  Would they? I could do the practical stuff but… they needed their mum, and even I knew I was a pretty poor substitute.

  ‘So have you got a flight? Can you give me the flight number? What time should I pick you up?’

  ‘I’m not actually booked on one yet… Communication here is… quite difficult.’

  And yet our mobile call was completely crackle free.

  ‘But it will be Sunday.’

  ‘Sunday, or possibly Monday.’

  ‘Alice!’

  ‘I can’t help it. I don’t know. I can’t magic up a plane ticket. But most likely Sunday.’

  ‘But you must have some idea.’

  ‘As soon as I do I’ll let you know.’

  ‘But what am I supposed to tell the girls? Will you Facetime them this evening? Have you got Wi-Fi?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘No, Alice. You must. They miss you.’

  ‘Tell them Mummy loves them and she’ll be home as soon as she can.’

  I groaned. That kind of vagueness wasn’t fair to them.<
br />
  ‘Oh Claire, live a little. There’s so much more to life. It’s so beautiful here. I feel so alive. No clocks to watch, nowhere to be, just spiritual cleanliness. It’s amazing. Don’t worry, the girls will be fine and it will do you good to connect with them. No offence, but what else are you going to do until you go back to work?’

  Sleep eluded me after that and I spent the rest of the early hours racking my brains as to how I was going to break the news to the girls and how I might make it up to them this weekend. Disney movies at the cinema were in short supply at the moment.

  Predictably, Ava cried big, noisy sobs on my lap in the kitchen until I made her a bacon sandwich for breakfast and Poppy just nodded, her face tightening with a terse frown. She didn’t say anything and as soon as she’d eaten her toast, she disappeared upstairs.

  ‘Come on, Ava. Let’s sort your hair out.’ As usual, it looked like a bird’s nest that a couple of noisy crows had fought over. ‘You go up and find the brush and bobbles. I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll just wash up quickly.’

  I’d only just filled the washing up bowl with hot soapy suds when an outraged scream came from upstairs. And yes, I bloody left the tap running as I hared off into the hall and sprinted up the stairs to the girls’ bedroom.

  Sending a quick narrow-eyed squint of suspicion at Poppy, who stood just inside the door with a far too innocent expression framing her face, I hurried into the bedroom to find Ava wailing and, like a whirling dervish, clutching an armful of toys and pawing through a mound of clothes on her side of the bed.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

  Ava’s face crumpled and she started to sob. ‘P-Poppy’s being mean. She did it.’

  I turned to see Poppy standing ramrod straight, her hands stiff by her sides.