The Dog Share

by Fiona Gibson

  Oskar and Shalini are looking at me expectantly. Then Shalini smiles. ‘You want to take him home with you?’

  I nod. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Um … normally, we’d ask you to leave the dog with us for seven days,’ Oskar says, ‘just in case the owner turns up to claim him.’

  I clear my dry throat. ‘But he was found on Sgadansay, not around here.’

  He rubs at his bristly chin. ‘It’s just a rule we have.’ He shrugs apologetically. ‘Normally, we’d say, if you feel the same in a week, and he still hasn’t been claimed, then you’d be welcome to come back and collect him—’

  ‘But Suzy lives way down in York,’ Shalini reminds him. ‘It’s not exactly handy for her, Osk.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nods and I suspect now that it’s Shalini who’s in charge around here.

  ‘So it’s not exactly a normal situation, is it?’ she adds. ‘And all that matters is that we make the right decision for the dog …’

  ‘Yep,’ he says, tickling Scout behind his velvety ears. ‘That’s what matters.’

  Minutes later Oskar is fitting a makeshift grille in the back of my car, and Shalini is handing me a bundle of soft old blankets to fashion a bed for Scout’s journey. Then I’m waving goodbye as I pull away from the gravelled driveway of the old coach house.

  What the heck have I done? A mad thing, I realise – but I just couldn’t leave him behind. After all, Scout came to me when I needed someone, and he seemed to need someone too. ‘It’s you and me now,’ I tell him happily as we set off into the dark night, on the long journey to Yorkshire, to Scout’s new home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Medley Family WhatsApp

  Hi, I’m home! Also I bring exciting news :)

  Frieda: Hi Mum :) Did you sort out the distillery stuff?

  Sadly no. But I have something exciting to tell you.

  Frieda: What??

  This happened. [I attach a photo of Scout].

  Frieda: Is that the stray dog from the island?

  Yes.

  Frieda: He’s so cute, Mum!

  He certainly is.

  Isaac: Aw is that the lost dog?

  Yes that’s him, love.

  Isaac: Nice.

  Notice anything else about the photo?

  Frieda:??

  Never mind. So how are you both anyway? You haven’t been microwaving foil again, Isaac? Or had any more kitchen emergencies?

  Isaac: No but something funny happened. Rex bought us a kettle at last and it totally freaked him out.

  Why? What happened?

  Isaac: We switched it on and it started steaming like crazy then switched itself off!

  Frieda: God’s sake Ize, that’s what kettles are meant to do!

  Isaac: Is it?

  Frieda: OMG. YES.

  Yes Isaac. They steam – indicating boiling – then switch themselves off. What have you been doing since you left home?

  Isaac: In terms of what? :)

  Frieda: In terms of making hot drinks?

  Isaac: Using a pan.

  You’ve been boiling water in a pan for six months?!

  Isaac: Only when we’ve needed boiling water.

  Frieda: Didn’t you notice our kettle at home does that? I mean the steaming, switching itself off thing?

  Isaac: :) Course I did. It was only Rex who freaked out. Me and Matis were chilled about it.

  Thank God for that. Anyway, now that excitement’s over you might want to take a closer look at that photo and see if you recognise anything.

  Isaac, after a pause: That’s our yellow chair.

  Frieda: That’s our rug.

  Correct. And that’s the dog I met on the island so …

  Isaac: I don’t get it.

  You don’t think I carted our home furnishings to Sgadansay, do you?

  Isaac: Have you brought the dog home?

  Frieda: MUM!! You’ve brought the dog home with you!

  Yes, love.

  Frieda: I can’t believe this!

  Aren’t you pleased?

  Frieda: Pleased that you’ve finally FINALLY said yes to getting a dog when I’ve left home? :)

  Sorry, darling. I couldn’t resist him.

  Frieda: I’m devastated!

  Will you ever forgive me?

  Isaac: Yeah we might.

  Frieda: Eventually :)

  Isaac: It’s like guinea pig day all over again.

  Frieda: But even better.

  Will you come home and meet him soon?

  Isaac: Yeah course!

  Frieda: God yes next weekend I’m coming.

  Isaac: Me too.

  That’s brilliant. Maybe I’ll see both of you a bit more often now.

  Isaac: Maybe :)

  Frieda: Oh Mum I can’t wait to meet him. You’re the best!!!

  Chapter Fourteen

  The pet shop lady makes a big fuss of Scout as I select water and food bowls, plus a basket. While I’ve enjoyed the warm, comforting feeling of him cosying up to me on the bed, I’m wondering now if I should give him the option of having sleeping quarters of his own. I’m keen to take my responsibilities as his guardian seriously.

  I also choose an assortment of rubbery toys, which the shop lady explains are beneficial to health (‘Chewing exercises every single muscle in his body!’) and, of course food, plus more poo bags on a handy roll dispenser, which perhaps thrills me more than it should. The woman has obviously marked me out as a Naive New Dog Person and therefore in the market for some enthusiastic up-selling. I almost let her talk me into buying a complicated lead with multiple straps, a gigantic velour floor cushion ‘so he can relax in comfort in any room’ and a packet of treats for training (‘only one calorie apiece’). However, as she tries to flog me some pigs’ ears – actual ears of pig, with hairs still attached – I judder to my senses and leave the shop with just the necessaries, which we load up into my car.

  Back home, I unpack everything and then go to find Scout, who’s still keenly exploring the house. I discover him in Isaac’s room, gnawing happily on a pair of boxers that he must have found in a murky corner somewhere. How simple dogs are compared to humans, I muse, when it comes to entertainment. We need cinemas, restaurants and hobbies – oh, yes, hobbies! Paul was always a big one for the short-lived all-consuming passion, such as learning the trumpet and baking sourdough loaves (which was at least quiet and relatively cheap). There was also his wine connoisseur phase, when he insisted we went along to tasting evenings where you had to whirl your glass about and detect notes of apricot, cedar and, startlingly, cabbage. This business of dressing up a piss-up as something more worthy, almost scholarly; I should have spotted the danger signs years ago.

  For a brief period, Paul was mad about cycling. For this, he had to kit himself out in top-of-the-range apparel. ‘It’s more aerodynamic,’ he’d explain, when actually, he just thought his arse looked great in tight Lycra. Derek, my brother-in-law, has the same thing with his running gear. There’s always some new, more breathable fabric he has to have, worn super-tight so as to show off his package. I always have to make a point of staring determinedly at Derek’s face.

  As Scout continues his gnawing, I pull my phone from my jeans pocket and scroll to Belinda’s number. Although she’s never practised, she studied law at uni and I have a faint idea that she might know where I should go for help.

  ‘Hi, sis,’ she says briskly. ‘How was your trip?’

  ‘Um, it was pretty tough actually.’

  ‘God, yes, I’m sure it was. Horrible for you.’

  I pause, wondering how best to put it and realising there’s no ‘best’ way; it is what it is, plain and simple. ‘Erm, I’m going to have to get legal advice pretty urgently,’ I explain. ‘I mean, I think I’m going to have to liquidate the company—’

  ‘Oh God, really? Is it that bad?’

  ‘Yes, unfortunately. And from what I’ve been able to find out, the best thing to do is appoint someone to—’

  �
�Suze, who was looking after the finances in all of this?’ she cuts in.

  ‘Erm, well—’

  ‘I mean, who was handling the accounts before you and Paul took over?’

  You and Paul. Ouch. ‘There were people,’ I say, keeping my voice level, ‘but he had a lot of disagreements about how things were being done, and he appointed his own people and, yes, it was all very badly handled—’

  ‘Bloody hell, Suzy,’ my sister murmurs, and I catch Derek barking something unintelligible in the background. ‘I wish you’d said something before things got so bad,’ she adds and, again, Derek’s voice sounds out.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ I ask, irritation fizzing up in me now.

  ‘He says he’s surprised there wasn’t a proper plan,’ she replies, and at this point I phase out, my brain screaming, But there was! At least, it looked like one, from what I saw, however naive that may seem now.

  ‘Tell him thank you for that,’ I say curtly, trying to ignore a prickling sensation behind my eyes. ‘But, look, I actually wondered if you might be able to suggest someone who can help me. If you can’t, don’t worry—’

  ‘Suzy—’ She cuts off as Scout drops the boxers and starts barking urgently. ‘What’s that?’ she exclaims.

  ‘Erm, it’s my dog.’

  ‘That’s loud isn’t it—’

  ‘Yeah, I think someone put a flyer through the letterbox. He’s gone crazy …’

  ‘God,’ she says with a dry laugh, ‘for a minute I thought you said your dog—’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You bought a dog?’

  ‘Well, no. I didn’t buy him. He was a stray on the island. He just turned up at the house where I was staying—’

  ‘You’re not keeping him, are you?’ she splutters.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  I can virtually hear her eye-roll. ‘Why on earth have you taken on a dog?’

  ‘Because … I wanted to. He had nowhere else to go—’

  She exhales loudly. ‘Honestly, I worry about you, I really do. Don’t you have enough on your plate—’

  ‘You’re right,’ I cut in, sensing my cheeks flaring now, ‘I do have a lot on, but this is actually the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, not that he’s a thing, he’s a lovely, sweet, affectionate dog, and we’re having such fun together—’

  ‘Suze, I just meant—’

  ‘And yes, it might seem mad, but it felt like the right thing to do. So anyway,’ I barge on, barely catching a breath, ‘I don’t suppose there’s much chance of being able to talk to a legal person on a Saturday but I’m going make a plan, ask around, see who’s recommended—’

  ‘Suzy, please listen,’ Belinda cuts in sharply. ‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s your decision whether you want an animal—’ an animal? ‘—and that’s nothing to do with me. Get yourself a wild bison if you like …’

  ‘I don’t want a wild bison!’

  She sighs heavily. ‘What I was trying to say is, I do know someone who might be able to help.’

  ‘Do you?’ I’m still smarting a little and experiencing a stab of envy for my friends who are close and vaguely equal to their siblings – like Dee the GP and her sister the head teacher. Not Belinda the high-ranking civil servant and Suzy the utter fucking failure who came home from Scotland to find a carton of solidified milk in her fridge.

  Oh, I know that makes me sound like a self-pitying fool and I hate myself for it. Scout potters over and licks the bare bit of ankle that’s exposed beneath my jeans. That’s why I’ve adopted you, I decide; because you don’t think I’m a raving idiot. You like me enough to lick my leg.

  ‘Her name’s Roz,’ Belinda goes on. ‘Rosalind Nulty. She’s a lawyer specialising in insolvency, liquidation, that kind of thing. She really knows her stuff.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say quietly. ‘How d’you know her?’

  ‘From uni,’ she replies, ‘and we’ve kept in touch a bit over the years.’ I frown. I’m pretty sure I know most of Belinda’s friends from her university days and I’ve never heard of a Roz Nulty before. ‘I could give her a call now,’ she adds, ‘if you like? Just to sound her out a bit?’

  ‘Really? Are you sure?’ I’d hoped she might have a name from her law faculty days, but hadn’t anticipated this level of help: a virtual introduction.

  ‘Yeah, I could try at least.’

  I rub at my face. ‘I’m just a bit worried about the cost, Bel. Is she crazily expensive?’

  ‘You can worry about that later,’ she says firmly, back to her usual clippy tone as we end the call.

  I sit on the edge of Isaac’s bed, feeling chastened now that Belinda seems prepared to help me, and is actually on my side. Like Cara on the island, who couldn’t have been more helpful, offering to make and distribute lost dog posters around town. I scroll for her number, wondering why it feels so tricky to compose a message when I’m supposed to be good with words.

  Hi Cara, I start, hope you’re doing okay and Barney is getting better. I pause before continuing: I’m sure it’s not easy. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you, Sx

  I slide my phone back into my pocket, not even sure if that was the right thing to do, or whether she’ll reply. But it felt important to say something.

  Later, after a walk, I stretch out on the sofa, making room for Scout as he snuggles close to me. First thing on Monday I’ll call the council up there – and the police on Sgadansay – in case someone’s reported him missing. That would be the best result; to see him reunited with the person – or people – who love him. But … I love him too.

  My phone rings, making me flinch; it’s Belinda. ‘I’ve just spoken to her,’ she says. ‘Roz Nulty, I mean. She’s based in Leeds – not far from us actually. And she can see you on Wednesday afternoon for an initial chat.’

  ‘Great,’ I say with genuine gratitude, although I’d hoped – perhaps naively – that she’d be available first thing on Monday morning.

  ‘I’ll text you her address,’ she adds.

  ‘Thanks, Bel. Thanks so much.’

  ‘That’s okay—’ She breaks off as Derek starts hectoring in the background. ‘Yes, Derek,’ she says, a tad sharply. ‘Yes, I’ll tell her that.’ I brace myself for further reminders about my ineptitude in the running of a business and the choosing of boyfriends. She exhales. ‘Sorry, Suze. He’s saying, d’you remember he’s allergic? It’s going to be very difficult for Derek to come to your house now you have that dog.’

  What an almighty tragedy that will be, I think, as we finish the call.

  And then a text comes, and I’m no longer thinking about my brother-in-law in his groin-hugging running attire. I’ve forgotten to be annoyed with him, and those ominous words – ‘insolvency’, ‘liquidation’ – have melted away in my mind.

  Thanks for your kind message, Cara has written. How lovely of you. I put lost dog posters up all over the place – has anyone been in touch?

  No, nothing yet, I reply, but thanks so much for doing that. My stomach seems to tighten as I add: How are things with you?

  A few moments her later her reply comes: I’m very sad but also trying my best to be happy because Barney is now running along the endless beach to the stars. Cx.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ricky

  When you arrive at a party you can roughly gauge how long it’s been going on, and it’s clear that this one has gathered quite a bit of momentum already. At just gone eight, Meg’s parents’ garden and conservatory are decked out with fairy lights and milling with guests. The lawn is huge, even for the suburbs, the garden well tended with apple trees and tables bearing ice buckets filled with wine and champagne.

  The biggest table is laden with an enormous array of charcuterie and cheeses, savoury tarts and piles of flatbreads, figs, olives and exotic fruits, all artfully arranged with fresh flowers and sprigs of greenery. It looks like a vast, edible sculpture and brings to mind an image of my own parents’ parties – limited to Christmas and signifi
cant wedding anniversaries – where there’d be cans of lager, wine in a box and one of those divided platters with separate sections for peanuts (salted and dry roasted) and prawn cocktail crisps.

  ‘So, that,’ Meg murmurs into my ear, ‘is what we call a grazing table.’

  ‘Wow.’ I chuckle. ‘If I take an olive, will it wreck the whole thing?’

  ‘No – just go for it. Give it an hour and it’ll look like it’s been ransacked by wolves anyway.’ She plants a quick kiss on my cheek. It’s pretty clear that she’s got over her prickliness about Arthur’s fish fingers or whatever it was that triggered that strange mood last night. He’s staying over at a friend’s tonight. It’s Lucas’s eleventh birthday and I imagine the lads will be up most of the night on the PlayStation.

  Diane – Meg’s mother – glides over to us in a floaty green dress and hugs both of us in turn. ‘Sorry to spring this on you, Ricky,’ she announces, ‘but we woke up and thought, what a beautiful day! Let’s make the most of it. We don’t get many of these at this time of year, do we?’

  ‘No, we don’t,’ I reply. ‘This is really lovely.’ If this is a spontaneous party I can’t imagine what their planned ones are like.

  ‘There was no stopping her,’ announces Simon, Meg’s father, who’s looking dapper in a black polo-neck sweater, brown cords and chunky black-framed spectacles.

  I’m handed a glass of wine and whisked over by Meg to meet a tipsy aunt in a red trouser suit, her lipstick already askew: ‘Oh, we’ve all heard about you, Ricky,’ she says. ‘You’re the music teacher, aren’t you? Shame you didn’t bring your cello!’

  Meg laughs and squeezes my hand. ‘Maybe next time,’ I say with a smile.

  ‘Oh,’ Meg exclaims, ‘there’s Ellie and Tom! They’re my cousins. I didn’t know they were coming …’ She pulls me across the lawn towards a wispy woman with cascades of crinkly raven hair, and a man with a substantial beard, who are installed at a wrought-iron table at the bottom of the garden. After enthusiastic introductions I learn that Tom is home on a brief visit from Madrid, where he runs a web design business. His sister Ellie, who’s a lecturer in costume design in London, popped up to Glasgow to see him.