‘Who’s we?’ Cat asked.
‘Lots of us. Lots of people. They’re a menace. Pooing and biting and making a mess.’
‘It’s a park! It’s not like we’re traipsing them through the local museum! Where else should dogs go, except the park?’
Mr Jasper gave a smug little smile. ‘They should be in your homes, in your gardens. Leave the public spaces for the people.’
‘Even if that is your opinion – and it’s a pretty unrealistic and narrow-minded one – did you really think the best way to express that opinion was coming here and throwing a bucket of water over my friend? What possible purpose could that serve, except making a scene? It’s an unprovoked attack, it’s got nothing to do with dogs, and you don’t even have a banner!’
‘Yes, we do,’ said a familiar voice, and Cat shivered as she realized who it was.
Alison Knappett, Cat’s old boss at the nursery – otherwise known as Knickers-Too-Tight. Short and prim, her dark fringe low over her serious eyes, she stepped out from behind Mr Jasper and raised a cardboard placard. She was wearing a blue dress and flat, sensible shoes, as usual looking far older than her mid-thirties. The placard was white cardboard on a wood support, and the writing was bold but neat. It said, Say NO to dog walkers in Fairview.
Cat faltered. Mr Jasper she could face, but not Alison. Cat knew she didn’t like dogs – she’d found out to her cost just how much she hated them. But to go this far? To fire her and then try to sabotage her new business, felt very personal. ‘O-one banner?’ she stammered. ‘It’s not a very big protest, is it?’
‘But we’ve got everyone’s attention.’ Alison gestured around her, and Cat realized they were in the centre of a large circle of people and dogs, all waiting to see what would happen next. Polly was standing at the edge of the space and someone had got her a towel.
‘Go on then,’ Cat said. ‘Now you’ve got everyone’s attention, now you’ve ruined what was a perfectly good-tempered event, say what you wanted to say. Go on.’
Alison stepped forward but Mr Jasper put a hand on her arm.
‘We believe,’ he said, ‘that the recent trend for dog walkers is a growing menace to our society. Dogs are a part of life, I accept that, and so does my friend. We may not like it, but we accept it.’
‘No, you don’t,’ someone called, but Mr Jasper ignored them.
‘What we can’t accept, in our public spaces, where children and vulnerable people come to enjoy themselves, to get fresh air and a sense of calm, is the walking of multiple dogs in large and unruly packs. It’s a recipe for disaster. If you can’t control your dogs – and I defy anyone with more than four to be fully in control – then they will get loose, they will bite people, they will foul the grass and the paths where toddlers play, and they will ruin the serenity of this place.’
‘Nonsense,’ someone muttered.
‘I have already witnessed this woman struggling to keep control of a pack of dogs, in this very park! I have seen the damage that can be caused, and we will not stand for it!’
‘Dogs are dirty,’ Alison shouted, her prim voice straining to be heard. A few people had started to make low noises of dissent. ‘They’re dirty and they’re messy and they’re pests.’
‘Of course they’re not! What on earth are you talking about?’ A tall woman stepped forward, her black hair in corkscrews around her striking face, and Cat recognized her as Juliette Barker, one of her newest clients. She was half Jamaican and not, in Cat’s limited experience, a shrinking violet. ‘This is ridiculous,’ Juliette added.
‘You’re imbeciles,’ the man with the boxer said. ‘My Molly’s clean and smart and much better company than you.’ Cat noticed that Molly now had a Magnum wrapper sticking out of her mouth.
Mr Jasper and Alison exchanged an uneasy glance, and tried to step back into the crowd.
‘We will petition this,’ Mr Jasper said. ‘You just watch.’
‘Watch the signatures not roll in, you mean?’ boxer man said.
Captain appeared, holding Paris in his arms, her head nestled into his chest as if she couldn’t bear to watch. ‘You did set yourselves a hard task,’ he said in a friendly tone, ‘coming as a twosome to a dog lovers’ event.’ Alison blushed. Cat knew she hated to be wrong, and Captain’s words set a new fire under her.
‘Well, you can’t trust her,’ Alison screamed, pointing at Cat. ‘She is disorganized, and a danger to young children, and completely incompetent.’ She spat the last word and Cat gasped. ‘Don’t trust this woman to walk your dogs. Don’t trust her for anything.’
Cat opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
She felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder and suddenly Joe was in front of her, between her and Alison. ‘You’ve taken it too far,’ he said calmly. ‘You know as well as I do that what you’ve said about Cat is a lie. Nobody incompetent could have organized this event. She’s received nothing but praise for her dog walking – you guys aside – and if you want to talk about disorganized, then take a look in the mirror.’
The park was hushed, everyone straining to hear these quieter remarks. Cat took a step forward but Joe grabbed her hand.
Alison glared at Joe, and Joe looked steadily back at her. Cat knew that Joe would win any staring match.
‘You haven’t heard the end of this,’ Alison screeched. ‘And if you think you’re getting my business after this, Joseph Sinclair, then think again.’ She turned abruptly, her placard bashing Mr Jasper in the knees, and tried to push her way through the crowd. ‘Let me through!’
‘Are you OK?’ Joe turned to Cat and released her hand. ‘Sorry I stopped you. I was trying to defuse the situation and after what she’d said, I wouldn’t have blamed you for punching her in the face.’
‘No, you did the right thing. I didn’t realize she—’
’NO!’ Alison squealed, ‘get away!’ They turned to see Chips standing in front of the two protesters, looking up at Alison, a tennis ball at her feet. Alison moved back into the crowd and Chips trotted forward, putting the ball down in front of her again.
‘She loves you,’ someone laughed. ‘Though God knows why.’
‘This dog is harassing me!’ Alison moved further back and Chips followed, her tongue lolling out. She lifted her paw and looked up at Alison expectantly. Alison, her cheeks red, turned and pushed through the laughing crowd. Mr Jasper followed her, their placard discarded. Chips lay on the grass and rested her nose on her paws.
‘What was that all about?’ Polly was drying off quickly in the sun, her blonde hair forming wispy tendrils around her face. ‘I didn’t know Alison could be so cruel.’
‘I took Elsie’s puppy into her nursery,’ Cat shrugged. ‘She obviously holds grudges. But I’m so sorry, Joe, about your—’ She turned but he was no longer next to her. ‘Joe?’
Polly pointed to where Joe was crouched in front of Chips, laughing and rubbing her ears. ‘Good dog,’ he said. ‘What a clever dog.’
‘Oh my God,’ Cat whispered, ‘why is he doing that?’
Polly shrugged.
‘He’s not a dog person.’
‘I never said he wasn’t—’
‘He won’t let me have them in the house. Joe?’
Joe’s shoulders tensed and he stood up quickly, flashed them a quick smile and disappeared into the café.
Cat shook her head, feeling a mixture of confusion and relief. Maybe she was right, and that by coming into contact with so many dogs, he was slowly realizing how lovable they were. But he’d seemed so easy, so comfortable with Chips. ‘I don’t understand your brother, Polly. Either there’s something I’m not getting or that kiss with Jessica turned him into some kind of dog-loving wonder boy, like a modern-day princess kissing a toad.’
Polly put her hand on Cat’s shoulder. ‘Joe’s not a toad. It’s summer, and he loves summer. The whole Rosalin-and-Alex thing is further in the past, and I think his business is doing OK, despite losing Alison’s custom just now.’
‘But Chips is a dog.’
‘Yes, I know. Look, Cat, there’s something I haven’t—’
‘Joe hates dogs.’
Polly was looking in the direction of the café, chewing her lip. ‘It’s not that simple,’ she said. ‘Joe’s had a hard time of it, and maybe he’s realized he was an arse when you first moved in. He’s trying to make it up to you.’
Cat nodded. ‘He’s helped me with Twitter, he’s given me great advice, thought of the whole Pooches’ Picnic idea. He’s been really helpful, actually.’ Polly laughed. ‘No need to sound so surprised. He’s trying hard, and whatever impression he’s given you, he doesn’t hate dogs. He’s giving credit where credit’s due.’ She pointed at Chips.
Cat waggled her fingers and the Border collie raced up to her. She pulled a few treats out of her bag. ‘That, Chips, was brilliant. Maybe some of Mark’s cheekiness has rubbed off on you after all?’ Chips gave a single, cheery bark. ‘Do you miss him?’ she asked. Chips pressed her damp nose against Cat’s leg. ‘Yeah, I do too. Come on, let’s see if anyone still wants to talk about dog walking, or if they’re all convinced I’m completely incompetent. Coming, Pol?’
They made their way across the grass, saying hello to the few people who remained. Most had drifted off after Mr Jasper’s intervention, whether embarrassed to stay, or just seeing it as the perfect time for lunch. The sun was high in the sky, baking down on them all. Cat thought the dogs could do with going inside and cooling off. Maybe they’d all be happy to have a bucket of water thrown over them.
She could see Captain and his perky-eared papillon, Paris, on the veranda of the Pavilion café, talking to the owner George. And she could see Joe through the glass, helping to clear up. Cat really had to thank him for all he’d done. She’d found herself doing that quite a bit lately, and was starting to think she would have to change her opinion of him as a grumpy sod. She let Chips go ahead of her, but a dog started barking behind them and, intrigued, Chips changed course.
‘Chips,’ Cat called, ‘come on, let’s go inside.’ But the Border collie was intent on her new pursuit.
A small sandy-haired dog was haring across the grass towards Chips, running as fast as its tiny legs could carry it. At the last minute it jumped, its floppy ears flying, and came to an untidy halt next to the collie.
It continued to make a high, squeaking noise like a broken bicycle horn, and started running backwards and forwards. A classic Zoomie dog, Cat thought.
She approached the puppy, cautiously at first and then, when it seemed intent on tiring itself out, she pulled it into her arms, lifted it up and stroked its head, calming it. It was a cocker spaniel, and Cat thought it could only be about six months old. She turned its collar around and found a heart-shaped name tag. Olaf, it said, followed by a phone number.
Cat scanned the park. It was still busy, the grass dotted with groups kicking footballs and having picnics, but Cat could see no one who looked frantic, as if they’d lost someone important. Olaf. That name was familiar, and not just because it belonged to a snowman she’d heard about non-stop at the nursery. The nursery – that was it! She remembered Alison telling Emma to say goodbye to her dog; the little girl fighting back tears.
‘Where’s Emma?’ she asked Olaf, who was shivering, depleted of exertion and confidence. ‘Where’s your family?’
‘I think you might be looking for these two?’ It was Joe, ushering a couple of young girls towards her.
‘Olaf!’ the older one squealed. They were both crying loudly, and looked ragged despite their bright sundresses and sandals.
‘Is he yours?’ Cat held the puppy out to the older girl. She recognized four-year-old Emma, and there was something familiar about her sister too, despite her being too old to attend nursery. ‘Hey,’ she said gently, ‘there’s no need to cry. He’s had an adventure and now he’s tired, but he’s fine.’
‘And you did well to keep up with him,’ Joe added. ‘I saw how fast he was going. Maybe you two need to think about careers in athletics.’
The older girl started to sniff, restraining her tears, and reached out to take her pet. She cuddled him against her, and Olaf nuzzled her cheek. Cat thought she was probably about ten or eleven, skinny, with long, flyaway mousy hair and freckles. Emma was still sobbing, one hand gripping onto her sister’s dress.
‘You’re Emma, aren’t you?’ Cat asked.
The little girl nodded through her tears.
‘I’m Cat, from the nursery. Do you remember me?’
Again she nodded, then gulped and wiped her eyes with her hands. ‘Alison made you leave because you were too funny.’
Cat tried to hide her grin, which wasn’t easy when Joe was rolling his eyes.
‘Alison and I weren’t always best friends, Emma, but I loved all of you, and I miss you.’
‘We miss you too,’ Emma said. ‘And your puppy.’
‘But you’ve got one of your own. Olaf. Is this your sister?’
The older girl gave her a small smile. ‘I’m Lizzie. I’m ten.’
‘Nice to meet you, Lizzie. I’m Cat, and this is Joe. Were you bringing Olaf to the park?’
They both nodded, Lizzie’s eyes cast down to the ground. ‘Mum said could we take him out, because she’s busy with Henry. That’s our brother.’
‘He’s only ten months,’ Emma added, ‘and a handful.’
‘Shhh,’ hissed Lizzie. ‘Mum said not to say.’
‘Your mum told you not to say anything?’
‘About how stressed she is,’ Lizzie blurted, then gasped, her eyes filling up with tears again.
’That’s OK,’ Cat said reassuringly. ‘I won’t say anything. Do you want me to come with you and explain about Olaf to your mum?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, it’s OK. We can take him back. Mum doesn’t need to know he got off the lead.’
‘You took him off!’ Emma squealed.
‘I really don’t mind,’ Cat said, trying to head off a squabble between the girls. ‘Our event’s done now, and I’d like to say hello to your mum again. Do you live close by?’
‘Number twelve Primrose Terrace,’ Emma said proudly.
‘Of course!’ Cat said. That’s where she remembered the older girl from – she’d passed them in the street on more than one occasion.
‘What?’ Lizzie asked, her slender brows lowering.
‘I live on Primrose Terrace too. Oh, this is perfect. I’ll just go and get Chips, and we’ll all walk back together.’
‘Of course,’ Joe said brightly. ‘We can’t get away with not knowing about one of our neighbours, can we?’
Cat shot him a sideways glance and went in search of Polly and Chips.
Chapter 2
The primroses that characterized Primrose Terrace lasted all the way through the spring, filling the wide grass verges opposite the houses with whites and pinks and blues, as well as the more common yellow. It looked like an intricately weaved carpet, and Cat wondered who tended to them, making sure they bloomed so spectacularly every year. She wondered whether the primroses had given the terrace its name or if it was the other way around.
The houses only ran along one side of the road. Opposite them, and beyond the colourful verges, was a high, redbrick wall shielding the back gardens of the seafront houses from view. Cat loved knowing that, just beyond those houses, was the endless expanse of glittering blue or churning grey water.
Their party of three grown-ups, two children and two dogs passed Jessica’s extravagant house at number one, reminding Cat that she hadn’t seen the author at the Pooches’ and Puppies’ Picnic, either superglued to Joe or anywhere else; then the bed and breakfast, a couple unloading suitcases from a VW Beetle outside; then Mark’s slightly shabbier house. Chips climbed the stairs and Cat thought she probably shouldn’t take a strange – albeit passive – dog to someone else’s house, especially when they had a baby.
‘Could you get Chips settled, Polly? I’ll come and check on her later.’
/> ‘Of course.’
Cat handed Polly Mark’s key and Chips’s lead.
She lost Joe as they passed number nine.
‘I’ve got some work to catch up on,’ he said. ‘Nice to meet you, Emma and Lizzie.’ He bounded up the steps, leaving Cat, the girls and Olaf standing on the pavement.
‘Right then, it’s just us chickens.’ They made their way down the road, to number twelve.
‘We didn’t paint it,’ Lizzie said, ‘but we think we’ve got the prettiest house on the street.’
‘I can’t argue with that,’ Cat said.
Number twelve was pale pink, with the same white window frames as the other houses, and a white front door. Someone had, presumably a long time ago, painted a design of pink daisies round the edges of the door, but it was so faint now Cat could only just see what it was. There were cuddly toys lining one of the upstairs windows, looking out at the street, and the downstairs curtains were shut, despite it being the middle of the day. It was a very pretty house that, Cat thought, with a few extra touches, could really stand out.
‘I’ll check with Mum,’ Lizzie said. Emma followed closely behind, almost bumping into her sister. The door was ajar, and Lizzie pushed it open and slipped inside, followed by her sister. Cat waited, drumming her fingers on her arms. She thought she could hear someone shouting, but then the door swung open and a woman about Cat’s age appeared.
‘Hello?’ Her voice was breathless and clipped, her irritation clear. ‘Can I help?’ She had reddish-brown hair tied back from her face in a scrappy ponytail, green eyes and no make-up, a silver stud glinting just above her lip. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes red-rimmed. ‘Now’s not a good time.’
Cat wiped her hand down her dress and held it out. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m Cat. I used to work at Emma’s nursery, and I met her and Lizzie in the park today.’
‘They weren’t meant to go to the park,’ she rushed. ‘They were meant to walk up to the end of the road and back, that’s all. And then – I couldn’t leave, because of Henry, or what if they came back and I—’ She stopped and took a deep breath, shook her head. ‘What’s the problem?’
Sunshine and Spaniels Page 2
