by CJ Morrow
I pull several paint charts from my bag. Over the last few days I’ve decided that I am going to have feature walls in some of the rooms, mainly the bedrooms and the sitting room. I’m going to paint them myself, really, truly putting my stamp on my home. I’ve never decorated before, Leeward always had the professionals in to do his, he even chose the colours – shades of grey – suggesting that I didn’t have an eye for style. Cheeky bastard.
∞∞∞
Two hours later I’ve unpacked the car, nipped to the supermarket for some essentials, including tea, coffee, milk and, more pertinently, cutlery and a dinner service. It has four of everything, mugs, dinner plates, tea plates, bowls. It’s flowery and blue, and bright and cheery and Leeward would never have had it in his house, which makes me smile.
Now, as it approaches 4pm, I’m waiting for the woman from the dog charity to arrive to inspect my house. I recall Grimmy’s words and a little part of me agrees with her, it is a cheek, then I remember that they’re rehoming these dogs and they have to get it right, some have already been neglected or mistreated, they can’t chance that happening again.
The knock at the door makes me jump, even though I’m expecting it. When I open the door the woman who stands before me is the same one I saw at the dog charity. Same wild hair, same orange jumper covered in dog hairs. She has an air of abandonment about her; she’s super-smiley and says super, a lot.
‘Lauren,’ she says, grinning.
‘Hi, err...’ What the hell is her name?
‘Bev, from Dogs Are Home,’ she says, as though I don’t recognise her at all. And, I have to go with it, because I couldn’t remember her name.
‘Hello, hello.’ So good I have to say it twice. ‘Please come in.’
She steps into my empty, spotless hallway then follows me into the kitchen/diner, also empty and spotless apart from the dog basket and bowls I bought last week and have put in pride of place near the radiator.
‘I’ve just moved in. Today,’ I say when she blinks her puzzlement at me.
‘Ah, I see.’ A great big smile. ‘Super. And you’re waiting for your furniture. Super.’
‘Yes,’ I lie. There is no furniture apart from my new on credit sofa which will be delivered later in the week. But at least the kitchen’s fully fitted with everything, cooker, fridge, washing machine, and the floors are all new and lovely. What more could a woman want? Or a dog.
I can’t afford anything else until I get paid at the end of the month. I have enough to buy food and some paint for my feature walls and that’s it.
Bev marches over to the French doors and peers out onto the garden. It’s not exactly enormous. There’s a patio, a bit of lawn, and a stoned area, then there’s the garage and parking. She turns and frowns at me.
‘Garden’s not very big,’ her voice goes up at the end of the sentence.
‘No. But it’s enough for, you know, a dog to do its business.’ When did I get so coy about pee and poo? I see it all the time at work. ‘And, of course, there’s a great big park at the end of the road, which is where we’ll be going every day.’
‘Ah, is there?’ She looks as though she wants to be pleased.
‘Would you like me to show you?’ I can tell she isn’t convinced.
‘Would you mind? I do have to be sure and I don’t know this area at all.’
‘Sure.’ I grab my keys and lead the way out.
We walk to the end of the road, turn left and there they are – the gates to paradise, their green paint may be fading but the foliage behind is vibrate and abundant.
I turn to walk away but Bev ventures towards the park. I hope she isn’t expecting me to show her the exact route I plan to walk the dog. She keeps going and I have to follow her through the gates and on into the expansive greenness.
‘Super,’ she says, taking it all in, the bandstand in the distance, the little kiosk, the joggers’ path, the benches, the enormous ancient trees. ‘How big is it?’
‘Um.’ How the hell do I know? Think, think. ‘About half a mile across and maybe a mile long.’ I’m guessing, I really have no idea, I just know it’s big. ‘Plenty for a dog to run around in.’
‘And dogs are allowed?’
‘Oh yes, as long as you scoop their poop.’
A big smile spreads across Bev’s face. ‘That’s just super,’ she says as she turns to go back to my house.
Once inside she pulls some crumpled paperwork from her bag and starts ticking boxes like fury. I watch, fascinated as I am approved to be a dog owner.
‘Sheba, wasn’t it?’ She turns to me and for the briefest of moments I don’t know what she means.
‘Sheba, yes.’ Sheba is the dog’s name, a cute little black terrier cross. I don’t know what she’s crossed with but she’s so sweet, there’s a lot of Westie in her, though her legs are too long and perhaps a bit of Jack Russell. It was instant attraction as soon as we set eyes on each other. I’ll be changing her name though, I hate Sheba. I’ve thought about what I will call her and I like Shadow or maybe Shade. I imagine us taking long walks around the park, her with her brand-new tartan lead and collar, me in my new walking boots – I should be able to afford them when I get paid.
‘Tomorrow, then.’ Bev is talking to me and I’ve been so taken with my little daydream that I haven’t been listening to her.
‘What’s that.’
‘Ten am. I won’t be there but they’ll be expecting you. Super.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head.
‘You can pick Sheba up at ten, tomorrow.’
‘Oh, but I was thinking maybe the end of the week. You know, after my furniture arrives.’ Liar, liar. Although the sofa will be here by then, not that Sheba will be sitting on it.
‘Dogs don’t need furniture. You can put her out in the garden when it’s being brought in.’
‘But I…’
‘It needs to be tomorrow at the latest. Space is at a premium at Dogs Are Home.’
‘Oh but…’ I wanted to paint and settle in a bit first. ‘My furniture’s coming then.’ Liar. So many lies I’m starting to get confused.
‘Ah, well. Just a moment.’ She whips her phone out and makes a call and because this happens in front of me, I know exactly what she’s saying and I can’t think of a way to stop it. ‘Okay,’ she says, when she’s finished. ‘If you go now, they’ll be ready for you. Super.’
‘Okay,’ I hear myself meekly agree, but my face is obviously giving me away because Bev looks at me for a moment.
‘That is, if you still want her.’ Suddenly the super smile is gone.
‘Yes, yes, of course I do.’
‘Super. They’re expecting you soon.’
And she’s gone and I’m collecting my bag and the aforementioned tartan lead and collar and going off to collect Shadow – that’s definitely what I’m calling her.
∞∞∞
Dogs Are Home they are waiting for me, smiles on their faces and Shadow already on a lead – it’s not tartan.
‘You must be Lauren,’ the man says.
‘Yes. I am.’
‘Great, just a bit of paperwork and she’s all yours. Sit, Sheba.’ He pulls gently on the lead.
I sign some forms and, just when I think I can escape he asks if I have any questions. I haven’t, and I feel a bit lacking, because he’s asked me lots, including if I have enough food. We’ve swopped their lead and collar for my new one which seemed to disappoint him because I think he was looking for a sale. But I have been coerced into buying a doggy car travel harness, which I can barely afford but, apparently, it’s an essential. It’s all in a good cause, I tell myself and any profit is going to the charity.
‘Okay, Sheba, are you ready to go with your new mummy?’ the man asks Shadow. I cringe at the mummy reference.
∞∞∞
Shadow behaves impeccably, climbing into the car and sitting calmly while I connect the travel harness to the seat belt. She even lies down before I’ve started the car.
<
br /> ‘Well done, Shadow,’ I say over my shoulder.
It’s a shame she doesn’t stay there.
We’ve barely got to the top of the Dogs Are Home drive before she starts howling. A quick glance in my mirror and I can see that she’s on her hind legs, front paws on the back of the seat and howling out of the door window. So much for the restraining qualities of the harness, though I imagine she’d be in the front without it.
‘Shadow, sit,’ I command, to no effect. ‘Shadow. SIT.’
Again, my command, even with its authoritative tone makes no difference.
‘Sheba, down,’ I call in one last ditch attempt to calm her. And, of course it works. Maybe it’s going to take her a while to learn her new name. ‘Well done, Shadow,’ I say.
Nine
‘Reminds me of the house I lived in with my first husband, your real great-grandad,’ Grimmy says, shuffling her way in and heading straight for the kitchen. ‘Garden was a lot bigger though. It’s tiny. That grass already needs mowing. Do you have a lawnmower?’
‘Um, no.’ I hadn’t even thought of it. Leeward always had a gardener who came every week in the summer and once a month in the winter. He said it was a justifiable expense – one I realise that I helped fund. I realise I’ll have to add lawnmower to my growing list of things I must buy.
‘Don’t worry, I have an old one that should do this little lawn. You can have that,’ Dad says.
‘What’s this?’ Grimmy says as, with caution, Shadow eyes Grimmy from the safety of her basket.
‘This is Shadow, everyone,’ I say, introducing my dog.
Dad bends down and strokes her under the chin. Mum pats her back, Shadow lifts her head to appreciate the attention then licks Dad’s hands.
‘They’re a tie, dogs,’ Grimmy says. ‘And unhygienic. What is it?’
‘She’s a terrier cross, probably westie,’ I say.
‘Crossed with what?’
‘I’m not sure, maybe Jack Russell or …’
‘A Heinz then.’ Grimmy turns away from Shadow and starts looking around. ‘Is there anywhere to sit in here?’
‘Not yet.’ I hadn’t thought of that when I invited them round. I have the kettle on and teabags in the cups, but no chairs.
‘Don’t worry, Grammy, I have your garden chair in the car.’
I don’t know if Dad always has her garden chair in the car or if he thought of it especially.
‘What’s a Heinz? I ask, wondering if I’ve misheard Grimmy.
‘Heinz. 57,’ she says, as though I should know.
I look at Mum and Dad.
’57 varieties,’ Mum says quietly. ‘Like the Heinz range of foods.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘A mongrel,’ Grimmy snaps. ‘They didn’t have any of this cross nonsense in my day. Where’s this chair then?’
Ten minutes later we’re sitting in the lounge, Grimmy in her chair, Mum, Dad and me on the floor, Shadow has joined us, resting her head on Dad’s lap.
‘Have you taken her out for a walk yet?’ Dad asks, patting Shadow. I think he’s fallen in love with her and it’s reciprocated.
As kids we had lots of pets, including two dogs, but after the last one died, which was long after we’d all grown up and left, Mum and Dad haven’t had another one.
‘Yes, just before you came.’ We’d had a very brisk march around the park as time was definitely not on my side.
‘Such a tie, dogs,’ Grimmy says again. ‘Aren’t they, Lisa?’
Mum nods her head in agreement and smiles.
‘What will she be like when you’re at work?’ A sensible question from Mum.
‘Okay, apparently, she’s used to being left on her own during the day. The only reason she ended up in the dog’s home was because her owners emigrated and didn’t want to take her with them. She’s not damaged or been abused. And I’ll pop home in breaks whenever I can.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ Grimmy mutters.
‘No, she seems fine. Anyway, we’ll find out tomorrow, I’m off to B&Q to buy some paint and obviously I can’t take her with me.’
Dad gets up and wipes the new-carpet fluff from his trousers, he’s still wearing his work clothes.
‘I could pop round occasionally and let her out in the garden,’ Mum says.
‘Could you? That would be brilliant.’
‘Just make sure it’s not at noon, Lisa, that’s my lunchtime,’ Grimmy instructs Mum.
‘Do you want that putting on the wall?’ Dad nods at my TV on the floor, the one I bought for the attic rooms in their house where it had rested on a large chest of drawers. ‘I could do it this weekend.’
‘Yes, please.’ Perfect timing, I should have finished the painting by then.
‘Let’s see upstairs then,’ he says.
‘I’ll stay here, Lauren. Them stairs look steep,’ Grimmy announces from her garden chair throne.
‘Okay.’ I lean in closer to her. ‘You’ll be pleased to know there’s a downstairs toilet, so that’ll never be a worry when you visit.’
‘I’m not incontinent,’ she snaps back, quickly followed by, ‘When are you getting this new sofa?’
‘Later this week. You’ll have to come round again to see it.’
‘I’ll still need a high chair,’ she says. ‘I expect it’ll be too low for me.’
She has a point there, something I hadn’t considered.
I give Mum and Dad the obligatory tour, they laugh at my blow-up bed. I have lovely new bedding but I haven’t had time to make the bed up.
‘Lovely wardrobes.’ Mum pulls open one of the fitted wardrobe doors where I’ve already hung all my clothes. ‘When are you getting a bed?’
‘When I can afford one,’ I laugh.
‘We could get you one as a present.’
‘No, you could not. Don’t even think of it. You’ve given me the biggest present of all by letting me stay at your place for nothing so I could save. So absolutely not.’
‘But Grimmy’s buying you a sofa,’ Mum says.
‘I know and that’s too much but she’s already paid for the gift card.’
‘She can easily afford it,’ Dad says, laughing. ‘And we can easily afford to buy you a bed.’
‘No. Please. No.’
‘Okay,’ Mum says, ‘Okay.’
Dad laughs.
∞∞∞
After they’ve gone I wonder if, after a night’s sleep on the child sized air bed, I might be swallowing my pride and accepting their offer of a new bed. I hope not. I want to be independent. I realise I’ve spent far too long relying on other people, on reflection I think that Leeward did a lot of my thinking for me – which I now find really rather pathetic. Anyway, what I can’t afford I will have to go without or wait for. I’ll truly appreciate it then.
I let Shadow out into the garden, she spends a long time sniffing around, then pees in all four corners. The garden is fenced on all sides so I don’t have to worry about her escaping. When she comes back in, I fill her water bowl and settle her for the night before going upstairs to make my bed and climb in. It’s only nine-thirty, but I’m exhausted.
I am sound asleep when I am woken by howling. I groan. I’ve got a dog who howls in the night.
Except it’s not night. It’s daylight outside. In fact, it’s bright daylight outside, the sun is streaming in through the windows. I need curtains. The builder put up curtain poles for me as part of the deal, but I didn’t even think about curtains until I came to bed last night and had to creep around under the sill to get undressed. I wonder how much curtains will cost?
Shadow’s howling increases.
I grab a sweatshirt, pull it on over my pyjamas and run down the stairs and burst through the kitchen door. I find Shadow howling at the patio doors, desperate to go out.
Only after I’ve let her out do I see that it’s after nine already. Poor dog has gone almost twelve hours, and so have I. I check to see that she hasn’t peed all over my kitchen, but she
hasn’t.
I let Shadow wander in and out of the garden as I have my breakfast and get dressed. It’s a treat to use my new shower knowing I’m the first person in it. Everything about the house makes me smile. Everything is and will be to my taste, my choice.
Shadow is asleep in her basket when I leave for B&Q. I have a list a mile long and I just hope my credit card can afford it.
∞∞∞
I’m gone an hour and a half and when I return Shadow is pleased to see me, jumping and barking and licking my hands. It’s nice to have someone so happy at my arrival. She even seems to respond to me calling her Shadow, after all it’s not such a leap from Sheba, is it? I let her out into the garden and promise her a walk once I’ve got a coat of paint on the lounge feature wall.
I’ve spent an absolute fortune in B&Q. Not only did I have to buy bedroom curtains that I hadn’t budgeted for, but also a step ladder. Otherwise I won’t be able to paint the top of the walls, or put the curtains up. Those two items alone have trebled my original budget, and I had to buy a dustsheet, another unbudgeted item. Oh well, it’ll all be worth it. I hope.
After a quick cup of coffee, I don my overalls – well, Dad’s cast offs, but they are the proper thing; white dungarees complete with paint splats. I can even spot the paint they used in the attic rooms they painted for me. I roll up the legs, pull on an old pair of socks – Leeward’s, ha ha, wrap my head in a scarf, spread out the dustsheet and crack open the paint.
Almost three hours later and I’ve got one coat on. It seems to have taken a long time what with the cutting in and being careful not to get paint on any of the other walls. I stand back to admire my handiwork – my first paint job. I love the colour though it definitely needs another coat but I can’t do that for quite a few hours.