by Kate Hardy
‘Do you miss her?’ she asked.
‘Sometimes,’ he said. He didn’t miss not living up to Zoe’s expectations—or his own. ‘I wish it could’ve worked out, but we wanted different things.’ She’d wanted a baby. He hadn’t. Not that he wanted to go into that. He shrugged. ‘She was in PR. We were both busy with our careers and worked ridiculous hours. I guess we grew apart.’ That was true: just not the whole truth. ‘It was an amicable split, or as amicable as it could be.’ After the fights. When they’d sat down and finally been completely honest with each other. When they’d realised that their differences were irreconcilable.
But it had still hurt that Zoe had fallen for someone else so quickly. Someone who’d been prepared to give her the baby she wanted. He was glad that Zoe was happy again; but he hadn’t really moved on and found someone else. Not because he still loved Zoe, but because he didn’t want to risk letting someone else down, the way he’d let his wife down. And Georgie had already had too much loss in her life. She didn’t need him complicating things for her.
‘Things are as they are,’ he said. ‘I love my job, I love my dog, and I love Edinburgh.’
‘You grew up here, didn’t you?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I miss my family,’ she said.
Oh, no. Please don’t let her ask him about his family. Because he didn’t have one. Just a grave he visited on the anniversary of his mum’s death. She’d been gone for three decades now; he had a couple of creased photographs of her that had survived the years of foster care, and that was it. ‘You’re welcome to invite them here. I could sleep on the couch.’
Her eyes glittered with tears. ‘That’s really kind of you, but I can’t ask you to do that.’
‘It’s no bother. Besides, I wouldn’t ask a guest to sleep down here with Truffle. She snores. And she’s not above waking you in the middle of the night—that’s why Clara bought the stair gate, after too many three a.m. visits from a dog who’s bright enough to know how to open a door and will lick your nose until you wake up and give in to her demands for a walk.’
Truffle’s tail thudded against the floor at the W-word, and he reached down to scratch behind her ears. ‘Yes, you daft beastie, I’m talking about you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Georgie said. ‘I guess...it just caught me a bit unawares.’
‘Things do,’ he said, feeling awkward.
‘I never thought I’d be a widow at thirty. I thought I’d be a mum. I was so looking forward to having a family.’
And here it was. The same issue he’d faced with Zoe. Georgie, too, wanted to be a mum. Ryan hadn’t wanted to be a dad. He knew nothing about how to be a dad. He’d never had a role model. His mum, until he was six; and then a string of foster parents who’d given up on him.
The one person who’d made a difference was the woman who’d come out of retirement to give temporary cover while his social worker had been on maternity leave: Elspeth McCreadie. She’d sat down with his sulking teenage self and told him that life wasn’t fair, and nobody pretended it was.
But he had a choice. He could focus on his past and be miserable for the rest of his life, or he could try making a difference to the world instead. That he was bright enough to do anything he wanted. He was good at science, so he could be a doctor, make other people better—and if he learned some social skills then his future could be better than his past. But Ryan was the only one who could make that difference to his own life. Nobody else would do it for him.
He’d been furious at the time, but her words had sunk in. He’d kept his supermarket checkout job at evenings and weekends, but he’d done his A levels and been accepted at university. Become a doctor. Made that difference to his own life. He’d stayed in touch with Elspeth, and although she’d died before his graduation she’d left him a congratulations card and written that she thought he could change the world and she was proud of him.
He still hadn’t completely connected with anyone, though. He’d tried so hard to love Zoe the way she wanted to be loved; despite all the effort, he’d failed.
Fixing patients, he could do.
Emotional stuff...that was another matter. He didn’t have the skill set.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said awkwardly, wanting to help but not knowing how.
She scrubbed a hand across her face. ‘You can’t always get what you want. I have a lot to be thankful for. I have my family, a job I love, good friends. I don’t have to worry about whether I can pay the rent or afford to eat. Wanting more’s just greedy.’
‘Sometimes we all want more,’ he said. ‘Um, I’ll make you a coffee.’
‘It’s fine. I need to get to work.’
A safe place, where she wouldn’t have to think about her anniversary because she’d be busy helping patients. It was how he’d used work too ever since he and Zoe had split up.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said.
But she was quiet all weekend. And every time Ryan thought about giving her a hug, he remembered her words. ‘I never thought I’d be a widow at thirty. I thought I’d be a mum.’
He wanted her, but he didn’t want to let her down. How could he get this to work? But, every time he thought about it, he came up blank.
* * *
On Wednesday, Georgie had the day off. She spent the morning cleaning, then nipped down to the farm shop to buy bread and stayed chatting with Janie for a bit. But, when she got back to the cottage, the patter of paws and waggy tail she was used to was missing.
‘Truffle?’ she called.
The house was silent.
Ryan was on an early shift. No way would he have come home halfway through it and taken Truffle out. So where on earth was the dog?
The stair gate was in place, so it wasn’t likely the Labrador had gone upstairs.
And then she heard a creak.
The back door was open. Obviously she hadn’t shut it properly and Truffle had gone into the garden. Except, when she looked outside, the dog wasn’t there. ‘Truffle,’ she called. ‘Here, girl.’
Nothing.
And there was a pile of dirt by the corner of the fence, along with a hole big enough for a large dog to squeeze through...
Oh, no. No, no, no.
It looked as if the dog had dug her way out of the garden. Ryan had said she was an absconder, and here was the proof.
‘Truffle!’ she yelled, hoping that she was wrong and the dog would appear from round the corner.
Still no response.
How did you get a dog to come back? When Truffle had disappeared to play with another dog on the beach, Ryan had given her slices of cocktail sausage when she’d come back.
OK. Sausage it was. Georgie ran to the fridge and took out Ryan’s box of treats. ‘Truffle,’ she called. ‘Sausage!’ She rattled the box, and then opened it on the grounds that dogs had a brilliant sense of smell and Truffle would know there were treats on offer and come to get them.
But the dog didn’t appear.
Oh, God. She’d lost Ryan’s dog. She didn’t even know where to begin looking for Truffle. And she didn’t know the countryside around here well enough to know where the dog might have been most likely to head for. Panicking, she called the ward.
‘Is Ryan there, please?’ she asked. ‘It’s an emergency.’
What seemed like ten years later, Ryan came to the phone. ‘What’s the emergency?’ he asked.
‘It’s Truffle. I went down to Janie’s and I must’ve not shut the back door properly. There’s a hole by the fence and I think she’s tunnelled out of the garden. I can’t see her anywhere and I’ve called and called and I’ve offered sausage and—’
‘Stop gabbling and breathe,’ he cut in. ‘You’re quite sure she’s not there?’
‘I’m sure. Where do I start looking for her?’
‘You don’t,’ he sa
id. ‘Stay where you are and I’ll go and find her.’ He banged the phone down.
This was all her fault. And if the dog was hurt, or had been hit by a car and was...
Oh, God. She cut the thought off, feeling sick to her stomach. If Truffle was injured or worse, she’d never forgive herself.
Not knowing what to do, but feeling that she had to do something, she put her phone on charge, put the kettle on to make a flask of coffee and stuffed a first aid kit and a towel into a waterproof bag, together with a torch and a bottle of water and the box of sausage slices. Then she laced up her hiking boots and got her coat ready.
Ryan was back at the cottage sooner than she’d expected, which told her that he must’ve broken the speed limit all the way back from the city.
‘Ryan, I’m s—’ she began.
‘Save it. I need to find my dog.’ His face was a mask of suppressed anger and worry.
‘I’ll go with you. I’ve got a bag. A towel, first aid kit, coffee, water. My phone.’
‘Half the time there isn’t a signal out there.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll—’
‘Save it,’ he said again.
‘Look, I know you’re furious with me and don’t want me around, and I hate myself for being so careless with her, but two pairs of eyes are better than one when you’re looking,’ she said. ‘I can’t just stay here doing nothing. Let me come with you.’
He scowled at her; but then, to her relief, he nodded.
Please let Truffle be all right.
Please let her not be badly hurt, or worse.
Please.
It was raining, the sort of rain that looked deceptively light but seeped into every fibre and weighed you down; Georgie was glad of the waterproof coat she’d bought the previous month, and even more glad of the drawstring hood.
‘We’ll start this way,’ Ryan said, gesturing diagonally to the hills, ‘and we take it in turns calling and listening. We’ll walk for fifteen minutes, then turn ninety degrees and walk that way.’
Half an hour of trudging, and she was freezing but she wasn’t going to admit it. Worse than the physical discomfort was the coldness and fear inside. She knew that Ryan loved his dog more than anything. If anything had happened to Truffle...
* * *
Ryan had never known fear like this.
He was used to losing people. His mum, her family, a string of foster parents. But losing the dog he’d loved since he’d first met her, the only one in his life who hadn’t deserted him... The more he thought about it, the worse it was. It wasn’t blood pumping through his veins, it was adrenaline; and it wasn’t air in his lungs, it was pure solid fear. All that was left was a shallow space that kept him functioning. Just.
Gone.
His dog couldn’t be gone.
Truffle was all the family he had.
Was this how the parents of his patients felt, when they sat at their very sick child’s bedside? As if the whole world was being sucked into a black hole, every speck of light diminishing?
It was unbearable.
Just putting one foot in front of the other was such an effort that he didn’t have the energy to run. Every time he called for his dog, his throat hurt. Every time he listened for an answering bark, his ears felt as if they were buzzing. And every time he glanced at his watch to see if it was time to change direction, he found that only seconds had passed.
How could time move so slowly?
How could this hurt so much?
What if they didn’t find her?
* * *
Ryan didn’t even speak to Georgie. Not that she blamed him. What she’d done was the worst thing ever: she’d lost his dog.
Clara would never have made such a stupid mistake.
If anything had happened to Truffle, Georgie knew she couldn’t stay at Hayloft Cottage. She wasn’t even sure that she could still work in the same department as Ryan. He’d never, ever, ever forgive her.
The friendship they’d been developing, the attraction they’d both been struggling to ignore—that would turn to sheer hatred in a nanosecond.
Please let them find the dog.
Another ninety-degree turn, more calling, more listening, and still nothing.
They trudged on.
And on.
And then finally she heard a bark. Or was it the wind and she just thought it was a bark because she so desperately wanted to hear the dog?
‘I think I just heard something. Call again!’ she whispered urgently.
Ryan did so.
It was faint, but this time there was a definite answering bark.
Oh, thank God.
Truffle wasn’t dead. Though she might be hurt. They were walking in the direction from where they’d heard Truffle bark, but it didn’t sound as if the dog was coming to meet them. When Georgie scanned the area in front of them, she couldn’t see any glint from Truffle’s reflective collar—a glint that should be there, even in this low light.
She grabbed the torch from her bag and switched it on. Although it was small, the beam was really powerful as it swept the ground in front of them, and finally she caught a glimpse of something reflective. ‘Look. I think that’s Truffle’s collar.’
Except it wasn’t moving.
If Truffle had heard them, why wasn’t she coming towards them?
Ryan was moving faster than she was, but she didn’t try to run after him; the last thing he needed was for her to sprain her ankle or something and need his help getting back to the cottage. She made her way carefully behind him, and when she finally reached him he was on his knees next to the dog, and Truffle was covering his face with licks and making little whimpery noises.
‘She’s stuck in a rabbit hole,’ he said, and she realised that he was digging the dog out with his bare hands. ‘Daft beastie. You’re not going to disappear into the hills again like that in a hurry, are you?’
The dog wuffed gently and gave a feeble wag of her tail.
‘I’m so glad she’s all right.’ She dropped to her haunches and stroked the Labrador. ‘You’ve been out here for ages, poor girl. I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. You’re cold and you’re wet, but you must be thirsty.’ She took the flask from her bag, removed the lid, and tipped cold water from the bottle into it so the dog could lap at it.
Truffle drank two whole cupsful.
But when Ryan had finished digging her out, it was clear that Truffle wasn’t going to be able to walk back to the cottage with them because she was limping badly on the leg that had been trapped in the rabbit hole.
‘I don’t know if it’s a fracture or a sprain,’ he said. ‘But I’m not risking it getting any worse.’ He bent down and lifted her up.
Nearly thirty kilos of wriggly Labrador, but he’d lifted her as if she were a feather.
And his eyes were wet.
Georgie hated herself. Hated that she’d been as careless and thoughtless as Charlie had been towards her.
‘Can I do anything to help?’ she asked.
‘I think you’ve done enough.’
‘Ryan, everyone makes mistakes.’
‘Yeah.’ A muscle twitched in his jaw. ‘This dog is my family, and you put her at risk.’
The pain in his voice stopped her biting back any more. ‘Do you want me to call the vet?’
‘You won’t have a signal out here.’
She looked at her phone anyway. But it was a vain hope: of course he was right. He was the local, and she was a stupid, dizzy city girl.
When they finally got back to the cottage, she sat next to Truffle, stroking the top of the dog’s head and comforting her while Ryan phoned the vet.
‘They’re staying open for me so they can take her in,’ he said. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.’
She took a deep breath.
‘Truffle’s clearly in pain and scared, and I’m sure she’d rather have someone sitting with her in the car. So I’ll drive you while you’re next to her. Don’t argue. It’s the very least I can do.’
* * *
The very least?
If she’d been more careful in the first place, Truffle wouldn’t be hurt now.
Part of Ryan wanted to snarl at Georgie, to tell her to go back to London and leave him the hell alone, but the more sensible part of him knew that she was right.
‘All right,’ he said, and gave Georgie his car keys, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to thank her. ‘We’ll take my car. It’s bigger and she’ll be more comfortable with more room.’
‘OK. Is the vet’s address in your satnav, or do you want to direct me?’ she asked.
‘I’ll direct you.’ He carried the dog out to his car and laid her gently on the back seat while Georgie locked the cottage, then told her where to turn to get to the vet’s in the next village.
‘Well, young Truffle, haven’t you been in the wars?’ the receptionist said when Ryan carried the dog into the surgery. ‘Linda told me you were coming in, Ryan. Go straight through. She’s expecting you.’
‘Thanks, Carol.’
Linda smiled at him when he entered the exam room. ‘Hello, Ryan. Do you want to bring her over here to the table?’
‘Thanks.’ Gently, he laid the dog down. ‘Stay here, sweetheart. Linda’s going to take a look at you.’
Linda checked Truffle’s range of movement on all her legs, soothing the dog and talking to her in a low voice as she did so.
‘I can feel movement on this leg that really shouldn’t be here,’ she said. ‘I’ll do a scan to check that it’s definitely a soft tissue problem and not a fracture, but I’m pretty sure It’s a grade two sprain. That means she’s going to need surgery to stabilise the joint properly. How did she do it?’