The temperature had dropped significantly in the last couple of weeks, but this morning, down in the back lanes, the sun was making a valiant attempt at breaking through the trees, dappling the ground in a golden glow. Underfoot, a carpet of leaves, rich in hues of amber, brown and yellow crunched satisfyingly. With the dogs mooching at my feet, I couldn’t think of any better way, or any better place, to start the day. Well, apart from having a clearer head and knowing what the hell Max Golding was up to. It was eating me up inside. Still there’d been no word from him, and however much I tried to put it all out of my head, I couldn’t. Tonight I’d be doing a shift at the pub and no doubt Eric would fill me in on what was going on, but I was still smarting that Max hadn’t deigned to mention anything to me. Wasn’t I at least owed an explanation?
I walked into Max’s field, which was part of my daily dog-walking routine now, and let the dogs off their lead, watching as they galloped across the grass chasing each other, their tails wagging furiously. My heart melted at the sight of them. I loved each and every one of my dogs, more so now since I’d come to know their different personalities and their funny idiosyncrasies. Amber was a proper lady and hated to get her feet wet, refusing to budge if faced with a muddy patch down the lane, which often ended with me having to carry her through any puddles on our walk. Saying that, she had improved immensely with our training sessions and her recall was so much better than when I first started working with her. Digby was driven by one thing alone and that was his stomach and he would often sidle away and latch onto any suspecting passer-by if they had a whiff of anything remotely edible on them. Hugo and Monty were like a comedy double-act, leaping around, chasing each other in circles and disappearing into bushes, emerging covered in brambles. I sighed. If only people could be more like dogs. Trustworthy, loving and loyal.
In the distance I saw Max’s house, the memories of the night we spent together flooding into my mind. I thought something special had happened that night, that we’d made a connection, but obviously I was wrong. I’d read far more into the situation than was actually there. Max could easily have contacted me if he’d wanted to, but he hadn’t. Didn’t that say it all?
Despite feeling the warmth of the sun of my face, a shiver ran down my spine, stirring my resolve. Hell, why was I spending so much time wondering what was going on in Max Golding’s mind? I shouldn’t have to guess. The one thing I really cared about was the pub and if Max didn’t have the decency to come and tell me what his plans were for The Dog and Duck, then I wasn’t about to waste any more time second-guessing his intentions. Life was too short. I needed to know today. Right this minute. Quite simply, I would go and ask him straight.
‘Amber, Digby, Hugo, Monty!’ I called the dogs’ names and, as one, their ears pricked and they came bounding towards me. I clipped their leads on and waltzed across the field and down the hill towards the Braithwaite Estate, a firm intention stirring in my chest. I don’t know why I hadn’t done it sooner. I wasn’t prepared to wait around any longer, hoping Max might grace me with his company. Any reminders of that night spent in his bed were to be put firmly out of my mind; the feel of him, the touch of him, the scent of him, all of that was irrelevant now. All I wanted was to know the truth about the pub.
Emerging out of the cutaway from the field I stopped in my tracks, seeing Max in his driveway talking to another man. Treacherously my body reacted violently to the sight of him; his tall broad frame and the cut of his jaw stirring something instinctive deep down inside me. I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. I couldn’t be distracted by anything but the job in hand.
‘Come on,’ I said to the dogs, tugging on their leads. We must have looked quite a sight crunching down the driveway, especially when Max’s dogs, Bella and Holly, ran to greet us, giving us a noisily enthusiastic welcome. Max and the other man turned to watch our arrival.
‘Ellie! How are you?’
If Max was surprised to see me he didn’t show it. He was all charm and sophistication and the epitome of country-style living, standing there in his padded gilet. Our night of passion evaporated in the morning air seeing him looking so pleased with himself and all I could think about was the pub that had always played such an important part in my life, and in the lives of my parents and all my friends too. I owed it as much to them to get an explanation. At that moment I think I may have hated Max.
‘Is it true?’ I asked, ignoring his question.
‘Sorry?’ He tilted his head in a way that suggested he had no idea what I was talking about. Infuriating, when clearly he did.
‘Is it true about the pub? Have you bought The Dog and Duck?’
‘Ah well, I was just talking to Peter here about that. He’s my…’
‘Yes or no, Max. That’s all I need to know.’
If he thought he might intimidate me with that penetrating gaze of his then he was very much mistaken.
‘Right.’ He nodded slowly. ‘That would be a yes then.’
It was only Max’s friend and the six dogs dancing the maypole around my feet that stopped me from launching myself at Max and banging my fists on his chest.
‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’
‘Look, I was going to tell you, of course. You’re on my list, I promise. I’ve been busy, that’s all.’ He made a move towards me, but I recoiled from his approach. ‘Come inside, I’ll only be a few minutes, we can chat it through.’
‘Yes, I was about to go, anyway,’ said Peter, looking more uncomfortable with every moment.
‘No. Don’t leave on my account. Max and I have nothing to talk about.’
I was on his list? Bloody cheek. Right down the bottom of it by the sounds of it. What annoyed me most was that he would have known about the deal the other night when we were together. We could have ‘chatted it through’ then. Only Max had obviously decided that wouldn’t have been a good idea when he’d clearly had other more carnal pursuits on his mind.
I turned on the spot with what I intended as a flourish, but instead just tripped over one of the six dogs, who were all growing more excitable by the moment and jumping up madly at my legs.
‘You all right there,’ asked Peter, holding out a hand to steady me, while Max tried to hide that annoying, irritating smile from spreading across his face.
‘Absolutely fine,’ I said, only just managing to keep a lid on my fizzing temper. ‘Just one thing,’ I asked, unable to help myself, ‘are you going to do one of your special renovation projects on the place?’
‘Well, even you would have to agree that the pub is well overdue a facelift.’
‘I see. Well, thank you, you’ve told me everything I need to know.’
‘Come on, Ellie, don’t be like that. We need to talk.’
No, we didn’t. Honestly, the way I felt now, if I never saw Max Golding again, it would be a day too soon.
Twenty-Seven
Grrr. I spent the whole walk home grumbling to the dogs about what a complete and utter waste of space Max Golding was. Judging by the way they lifted their heads to listen to me and the continued wagging of their tails, they were in total agreement, well that's how I interpreted it anyway. To think I’d been taken in by his sophisticated, charming ways. What an idiot! I should have realized, when he’d failed to tell me he had a girlfriend, that he wasn’t to be trusted. Wasn’t that warning enough? What made me think he would be honest about anything else? Wishful thinking, obviously.
After dropping off the dogs with their respective owners, I dashed home and jumped in the shower, washed off the bad odour left from my meeting with Max this morning, tamed my wild frizz with the straighteners and pulled out my favourite skirt suit from the back of the wardrobe.
As soon as I slipped on my patent court shoes and applied some mascara and lippy, I was back in professional services mode, but I must admit it felt strange, as if I was dressing up in my mum's clothes and pretending to be someone else. Still, the dog-walking girl in jeans and sweatshirt would be left be
hind in Little Leyton for the day. Along with any thoughts of Max Golding. Thank goodness.
Twenty minutes later and I was on the train to London, relieved to be leaving the village for the first time in weeks, something I would never have expected to feel only a few days ago. Gazing out of the window at the landscape rushing past, I wondered if my love affair with the simple life had come to an abrupt end. Not that it had proven to be such a simple life after all. Returning home was only ever meant to be a temporary thing and while it had been fun while it lasted, perhaps now was a good time as any to return to my city life. Especially with Mum and Dad away for another couple of years, big changes happening at the pub and the spectre of a life-changing one-night stand hanging over me. Did I really belong in the village anymore?
I sighed, only then giving some thought to the enormity of what lay ahead of me today. Talk about punching above your weight. I’d blindly agreed to an interview, at a time when I hadn’t been thinking straight and still reeling from the news that Max was buying the pub, without any real hope of being offered the job. Still, it would be good practice if indeed my future did lie back in London.
Walking from the Tube stop to the offices of Firmans, my heels click-clacking on the pavements, a shiver of anticipation ran over my skin as I soaked up the buzz in the air. The London traffic swarmed past me, cyclists weaving in and out of the cars and buses as they navigated the busy roads, a soundtrack of horns filling the air. As I walked along the pavement, swept along by the swell, people side-stepped me as they rushed on their way to their next pressing appointment. The shops, with their window displays tantalizing with the promise of the perfect Christmas, were already busy with shoppers. There was still some weeks to go to Christmas but looking at the crowds you could almost imagine it to be Christmas Eve. Mmm, it felt good to be alive. There was an energy, a purpose and a sense of excitement in the atmosphere that came from being part of a busy vibrant city.
It wasn’t as if I’d ever hated living and working in London. I’d loved my job at one time and loved my flat too. If I hadn’t been made redundant then I would still be working there. It was only when change was forced upon me that I realized that my life had been pretty much all work and no play. Perhaps that was all I’d needed. A bit of perspective. The chance to get a bit of balance back in my life. Hadn’t I achieved that now? Maybe it was time for me to get back into the swing of things in London after all.
‘If you’d like to go up to the seventeenth floor. Miss Dexter will be waiting for you.’
Firmans head office was in the heart of the city in a huge modern skyscraper with swishy lifts, vast open-floored offices and full-length windows offering panoramic views of the London skyline. Even on a grey and overcast day like today it was still a breathtaking sight. It would be no hardship to work in such amazing premises.
Rhoda Dexter, a petite blonde, with killer heels and a figure to die for greeted me warmly and showed me to a huge boardroom where I was introduced to the three people who would be conducting my interview. A flutter of trepidation washed over me. I took a deep breath, smiled broadly and shook hands with everyone, wondering whether perhaps I should have done a bit more preparation than I had, which had been absolutely none. Never mind, too late to worry about that now. I sat down in the chair opposite them, crossed my legs at my ankles and rested my hands in my lap, a picture of assured professionalism.
If I could handle four wilful dogs at one time, then I reckoned three senior managers had to be an absolute breeze.
Maybe because of that and the fact that I had no hope of getting this job, I just seemed to waltz my way through their questions. Even to my own ears I sounded collected and confident. I realized as I told them about my experience and the array of clients I’d worked with, that I had much to feel proud about.
It all passed in a blur and when it was over I was almost disappointed. My interviewers stood, thanked me for coming and told me they’d be in touch soon, although I still believed I didn’t have a hope in hell of being offered their job.
Not that it mattered. If not this job then there'd be another one. Nothing today was going to puncture my mood of optimism. Not Firman Brothers. Not the thought of an uncertain future. And definitely not Max Golding. Because, in spite of recent events, I was feeling hopeful. London had welcomed me back into its arms and I wanted to savour the moment.
Instead of heading straight home, I went to the nearest cafe and bought a goat’s cheese and beetroot panini and a skinny latte, settling myself into a seat by the window where I could sit and watch the world go by. What a treat. To see the mums with their tots in buggies out for some Christmas shopping and a visit to Santa perhaps? The young lovers walking hand in hand. The elderly couples helping each other along. A motley selection of dogs having a good old mooch around. The office workers taking their lunch breaks. I was one of them not so long ago and could imagine being one again in the not too distance future. For the first time in weeks it seemed a likely option. The New Year was not long off and suddenly a whole new life beckoned on the horizon. A new job, a new set of friends and a new social life and suddenly my future would be looking rosy again. Not that I would do anything hasty. I needed to take some time to make sure the next decision I made was the right one. When I got home I would register with some employment agencies and scan the job sites to see exactly what was out there.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to see who was calling me. Max Golding. Dismiss. I certainly didn’t feel like talking to him – ever again. I would just have to put that whole episode down to experience. Admittedly the evening spent in his bed was an experience that would stay in my mind for a long time to come, one I’d first hoped would be repeated, but not anymore. If there was one thing I knew I needed from a relationship it was honesty and transparency. I couldn’t be doing with Max’s secretive, underhand ways.
I closed my eyes and relished in the sensation of the sun caressing my face through the window of the cafe. My body relaxed and, unbidden, thoughts of Max flooded my head. Even in the middle of London, fifty miles away from the village, I couldn’t get away from him. Reminders of his delicious enticing scent, the memory of his expert touch on my skin, his breath on my face… I snapped my eyes open again, shutting out the thoughts.
Okay it might take me a little while to get Max Golding out of my system.
As I took the train home, I came to the conclusion that it might be easier to do that in London rather than in Little Leyton. Still, my decision about whether to stay or go had nothing to do with Max. He was just a distraction. An annoying, frustrating, temporary distraction. Mind you, if he continued to call and text me at the rate he had been today then I might never be able to escape his clutches. I’d had half a dozen texts asking me to call him and a couple of missed calls. Funny how he expected me to jump to attention when he called the shots, after keeping me waiting for days. There were no words to describe the arrogance of the man.
As the train pulled into Little Leyton, I picked up my bag and headed for the door. Walking over the bridge to the car park, my phone buzzed again, shredding my nerves for the umpteenth time that day. In desperation, and in a bid to get rid of him once and for all, I yanked the phone from my pocket and stabbed at the answer button.
‘Yes. What is it you want exactly?’
‘Oh, hello Ellie,’ said a voice clearly not belonging to Max. ‘Sorry if I’ve rung at a bad time, but I just wanted to say thank you for coming in to see us today.’ I gulped, a heat burning on my cheeks at the realization that Rhoda Dexter was on the end of the line.
‘Ooh, sorry, I thought you were someone else,’ I said, laughing lightly, wondering if I’d left something behind in their offices. Why else would she be ringing me? Quickly I checked my bag for my purse, my keys, my umbrella. No. All present and correct.
‘No problem,’ said Rhoda, her voice warm. ‘I was just ringing to congratulate you on a successful interview. We’d like to offer you a job with Firmans.’
‘You would?’ It was all I could manage to say. The air whooshed out of my chest. Honestly I couldn’t have been more surprised if I’d been offered a place on the national football team.
‘Yes. The formal offer will be going out in the post to you today. If you could have a look through the terms and return the signed acceptance to me before Christmas that would be great. Any queries, then just let me know.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, wondering why I didn’t feel more excited by this unexpected news. After all, wasn’t this the opportunity I’d been dreaming about all day long? ‘That’s just brilliant news,’ I said, conjuring up a tiny bit of excitement from somewhere.
Twenty-Eight
After my shift at the pub I was ready to collapse. It had been a long and eventful day that had included my run-in with Max, a jaunt to London, an interview which I’d attended just for the hell of it and then a job offer I had no expectation of receiving – what on earth was I going to do about that? Did I really want the job? It sounded like a good idea all the time I had no hope of getting it, but now? Would I be a fool to even consider turning such an amazing opportunity? And why was it such a difficult choice anyway? What was there to keep me in Little Leyton now? Too many questions. My head hurt just thinking about it.
Turning up at the pub for what I thought would be an easy shift I found Andy had called in sick, Dan had taken a day’s holiday and Eric was huddled with his friends around a table in the front bar for one of their mammoth card sessions, so I was left to man the bar pretty much on my own. There was no chance of me having a quiet word with Eric either. He was far too busy having a good time. If he was worried about his future at the pub then he wasn’t showing it, laughing and joking along with his friends. Finally, after five long hours, with my legs feeling they were about to buckle beneath me, the last of the customers left for home and Eric came along, rattling his keys before locking up the main door. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Christmas at the Dog & Duck Page 21