‘What? Who bakes an engagement ring into a cupcake?’ Nurse Van Niekerk asked the question everybody seemed to ask. ‘Did they do it by accident?’
‘Ask Mr Princess,’ said Dani.
‘Well,’ said Nurse Van Niekerk, once Dani had told her the whole story. ‘What a pickle. You could be looking at a couple of days. After which time, if nothing has passed, I would recommend you bring Jeremy Corbyn into the surgery. Bring him in immediately if he seems in any kind of distress beforehand. For example, if he starts to seem constipated. The ring may cause a blockage. Actually, scratch that, I think you should bring him in at once. We can’t be too careful. Was the ring in a claw or rub-over setting?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘A claw setting raises the chance of it snagging in his bowels and then causing a tear and possible infection …’
Jezza’s eating the engagement ring was still a very long way from becoming a hilarious anecdote.
Nurse Van Niekerk consulted with Evan the vet.
‘Evan thinks you should bring Jeremy Corbyn in and perhaps have an ultrasound, just in case. That way we’ll know exactly where it is. Or whether he actually ate it at all. There’s no point you going through his stools if he didn’t really eat the ring in the first place.’
‘No,’ said Dani. ‘I suppose there isn’t.’
Fortunately, as yet, a visit to the vet held no fear for Jezza. He jumped onto the examination table so he could better lick Nurse Van Niekerk’s face. While Jezza was distracted, Evan gently palpated the little dog’s stomach.
‘I can’t feel anything too worrying,’ he said. ‘Which is good. He’s not a small dog so I say give him another day or two.’
‘And keep going through the poo?’
‘And keep going through the poo. No one said dog ownership was glamorous.’
That was an understatement.
Chapter Twenty-One
That afternoon, however, someone else would have to keep an eye on Jezza’s bowel movements. Jane, to be precise. Flossie was ‘revising’. Dani had to go into work.
She told Dave the chef what had happened over the weekend while they sat outside for a break.
‘Oooh,’ he said. ‘That’s not good. Frank’s new woman is going to think you did it deliberately.’
‘How could I have done it deliberately?’ Dani was getting fed up with having to ask. ‘How? I didn’t know she and Nat were going to be there. I certainly didn’t know he was going to propose.’
‘He wants to get the deal sorted before she finds out what he’s really like. When you get hold of a woman like that, you don’t let her slip through your fingers.’
Somehow Dave had a knack for always saying the wrong thing.
‘So, now he’s got to wait until Jezza poos the ring out. I’ll bet he’s bricking himself.’
‘Which is apt,’ said Dani.
‘Oh yeah,’ Dave the chef chuckled. ‘I wonder if she’ll say yes.’
‘Why wouldn’t she?’ Dani asked.
Cheryl, who had dared to cross the kitchen, interrupted them.
‘Hey!’ Dave protested. ‘You’re not meant to be in here. Or out here. This space is for kitchen staff only.’
‘I have been standing at the kitchen hatch for the past ten minutes, trying to catch someone’s attention. It’s not my fault if you’re both out here having an overly long cigarette break when I need to talk to someone about a golden wedding anniversary celebration.’
‘Just get her out of my kitchen,’ said Dave.
‘I’m going,’ said Cheryl, turning on her heel with a dramatic flounce. Dani followed her.
A fiftieth wedding anniversary. The couple were waiting in the lounge. Dani carried out a plate of éclairs to go with their coffee, chosing two that were decorated with tiny slivers of gold leaf.
While the couple ate their cakes, she asked them about their wedding day and whether they would like their golden anniversary party to echo anything about that earlier occasion.
‘I don’t think so, dear,’ said the wife. ‘We had corned-beef sandwiches at our reception.’
‘I like corned beef,’ said the husband.
Dani suggested a menu that was altogether more twenty-first century. The couple were delighted with all her ideas. Once she’d made a few notes, Dani left Cheryl to deal with the rest of the paperwork and went back to the kitchen.
To make it to fifty years of marriage was no mean achievement but it was something that Dani no longer felt she had any chance of doing. Maybe Nat would get to his golden wedding anniversary, though. He would be ninety but that wasn’t impossible.
Gosh, Nat wanted to get married. He was going to get married. There was no way that Lola would say no, if the way she reacted on the beach was anything to go by.
What was Dani feeling right now? Envy? Of the fact that Lola was getting a proposal and a one-carat diamond ring? Or of the fact that Lola was getting Nat?
Dani phoned Nat that evening to assure him that she had the ring situation – or more specifically the poo situation – under control.
‘There’s nowhere to run and nowhere to hide,’ she joked. ‘If that dog poos, I’m on it. And in it.’
‘Ugh,’ Nat groaned. ‘I’m really sorry you’re having to do this, Dani.’
‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have had my dog under control.’
‘But I was really short with you, when we were on the beach.’
‘It’s understandable.’
‘No. I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just that … well, I was pretty nervous.’
‘About proposing?’
‘Yes. It took everything I had to pluck up the courage and then …’
‘At least now you know she would have said yes.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Of course. You heard her, Nat. Once she knew what was going on, that ring was hers in her mind.’
‘Well, hopefully it will be again soon.’
‘And next time you won’t propose on a beach full of marauding hounds.’
‘No. It wasn’t the best place to do it. I thought it would be romantic but … Duckpool Bay. It’s not exactly the Caribbean, is it?’
No, thought Dani. ‘But it’s special in its own way,’ she said out loud.
‘Perhaps not special enough. Perhaps the picnic ending up in disaster was a good thing. I get another go at it. I’ll have to put my thinking cap on when I’m planning the second attempt. Got any ideas?’
Was he really asking her? Dani didn’t know what to say. Was he seriously asking her to help him plan a proposal? Eventually, she said, ‘Oh! Sorry, Nat. I hate to cut you off but I’ve got to go. Jezza just went out through the dog flap. He might be off to do his business. This could be the one! Wish me luck.’
Dani put the phone down in haste.
But Jezza was not on his way out through the dog flap. He was in his basket, chewing on one of Flossie’s old shoes. Or maybe it was one of Flossie’s new shoes. From the general state of her footwear, it was hard to tell. It certainly looked ready for the bin.
Dani had just wanted to get off the phone. She didn’t want to be a sounding board for Nat’s proposal plans even if she had inadvertently wrecked his first attempt. What was he thinking? He either wasn’t thinking. Or he didn’t think it was a big deal.
That thought made Dani draw breath.
She crouched down beside Jezza’s basket and engaged him in a playful tug of war over the filthy red ballet flat. Jezza had a poodle’s cunning when it came to getting hold of things he shouldn’t have and a Staffy’s tenacity when it came to hanging on. Dani tugged the ballet flat away from him. Jezza tugged it back, twice as hard, putting his whole little body into the effort.
‘Drop it,’ Dani suggested. She used the tone and the body language Nurse Van Niekerk had taught her. She was pleased when he responded as he ought.
‘Good boy. Now fetch.’
Dani skidded the shoe across the kitchen floor. Jezza sk
idded after it, paws slipping as though on ice. He brought the shoe back to her. His eyes seemed to twinkle with excitement at the prospect of another round. He let her take the shoe from his mouth then adopted the play position. Front paws down, bum up, Staffy grin wide and enthusiastic. When Dani pretended to throw the shoe but didn’t, sending Jezza on an empty errand, he gave a little yip. Those people who thought that dogs didn’t have a sense of humour were definitely wrong.
‘Did you eat that ring deliberately?’ Dani asked the dog as he returned with the shoe for a third round of tug. ‘Did you do it because you think Lola’s wrong for him too?’
Jezza dropped the shoe and gave an insistent ‘yip’.
‘I agree,’ said Dani. ‘Totally wrong.’
‘Mum!’ Flossie shrieked, when she walked in and saw Dani and Jezza playing. ‘Those are my best shoes.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Poo duty took Jane back to being the mother of a newborn. It had been a long time since she’d been so interested in anyone’s (or anything’s) bowel movements. Thirty-eight years since Dani. Sixteen for Flossie. In the meantime, she found she’d grown horribly squeamish.
Two days after the ring debacle, with still no sign of diamonds in the dirt, Jane decided she needed some kind of gadget so she could help at arm’s length.
The pet shop near the Newbay train station had been in the same place for decades. When Dani was small, Jane would take her in there to see the hamsters, guinea pigs and rabbits, which were the only animals the shop ever stocked. They had a policy of not selling anything larger. The only dogs and cats advertised in the window were mixed-breed mistakes and moggies, to discourage anyone from buying farmed pets.
The shop had a warm, yeasty smell to it, which Jane guessed was probably the scent of hamster widdle on straw, but Dani loved going in there all the same. Dani had asked for a hamster for her seventh birthday. She called it Noel, after Noel Edmonds. Of course, she didn’t look after it and hamster care became another fixture on the ever-growing list of things Jane did around the house. Noel lived for three years, which was pretty ancient in hamster terms.
Years later, Jane found herself back in the shop with Flossie. Flossie also had a hamster as her first pet. Her hamster was called Dora the Explorer, after the children’s cartoon. Dora the hamster lived up to her namesake. She was an escapologist. Always off on an adventure. Until the day she got stuck down the back of the sofa. That was unfortunate to say the least.
Jane pushed open the door to the shop. The smell took her right back. Straw. Animal feed. Damp guinea pig. It was like stepping back in time. Particularly since the man behind the counter was the same man who’d owned the shop when Flossie and Dani were small.
‘Good morning,’ he said, welcoming Jane with a genuinely friendly smile.
‘Hello,’ said Jane.
‘What can I do for you today?’ he asked.
‘We’ve just got a puppy,’ said Jane. ‘Well, we’ve had him for a couple of months now.’
‘Lovely. What kind?’
‘Staffy-poo. Half Staffy, half poodle.’
‘Unusual mix.’
‘A mistake, I think. But he’s very intelligent,’ Jane said. ‘Except … I need something to pick up his movements.’
‘Is he unwell? Off his food? Have you spoken to the vet?’
‘Well, yes but …’ Jane described the predicament.
‘The dog ate a diamond!’ the pet shop owner exclaimed.
‘Quite a big one by all accounts.’
‘Then you really don’t want to miss a single poo,’ the pet shop owner agreed. He took Jane to the dog section of the shop and showed her the options for cleaning up without needing to bend down.
‘This one is very popular,’ he said, demonstrating a pooper-scooper with an end like the grabber in the ‘win a cuddly toy’ machines on the pier. ‘Only really good for a firm movement, though.’
‘If it’s not firm,’ said Jane. ‘I shan’t be picking it up.’
The pet shop owner laughed.
‘Oh, the conversations you must have in here,’ Jane said.
‘I do hear some funny things. But a dog eating a diamond is a first for me. Though some dogs really will eat anything. I’m lucky my own’s quite a fuss-pot.’
‘What kind of dog have you got?’
‘Greyhound. Called Sapphire. She’s a rescue dog but has the refined taste of a born duchess. I had a Labrador once. She would eat anything. Including my son’s homework book.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. All that was left was the torn cover with his name on it. It was fun explaining that to his teacher.’
The pet shop owner carried the pooper-scooper to the till and rang it up.
‘Would you like to join our members’ club?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jane.
‘I hate to ask. It’s my son’s idea for boosting loyalty to the shop. He’s more or less in charge now so I have to bow to his greater knowledge. He says when people can get everything they need in the supermarkets or on-line, we have to work a little harder to persuade them to come here instead. You get a ten per-cent discount on everything. Including this if you start right now.’
‘In that case.’
Jane filled out the card.
‘Mrs Parker. That name sounds familiar. In fact, I was thinking that your face is familiar too. You used to come in here with a little girl, didn’t you?’
‘Two little girls,’ said Jane. ‘My daughter Dani and then my granddaughter Flossie. But they’re both very much grown-up now.’
‘Time flies,’ the pet shop owner observed.
‘Doesn’t it just.’
‘But I never forget a face. And your husband, he used to come in here too. A nice man. Always very friendly. How is he?’
‘Oh.’ Jane hated that question. More than a decade and a half had passed since she’d first had to give the difficult answer but it still didn’t get any easier.
‘I’m afraid Tom passed away,’ she said quickly.
‘I’m sorry.’ The pet shop owner bowed his head for a moment.
‘Don’t worry. You weren’t to know. And it was quite a while ago now. Fifteen years.’
‘Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday, though, doesn’t it? I lost my wife in 2009. Nearly a decade and I still miss her every day.’
Jane nodded. ‘It’s hard.’
‘But life carries on, eh?’
‘That’s what they say.’
‘Yes,’ said the pet shop owner. ‘I find keeping busy helps. My son has been very good to me. And my daughter-in-law invites me over all the time.’
‘I’m lucky with my daughter too,’ said Jane.
‘So I’m never on my own if I don’t want to be.’
‘Me neither.’
‘It’s just those times when you see something you want to talk about and you turn around to tell your special someone and …’
‘They’re not there.’ Jane sighed. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
They stood in silence for a moment, both deep in their own memories.
‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ said the pet shop owner. ‘You only came in here for this and I’ve made you listen to my complaining.’
‘Hardly complaining,’ said Jane. ‘And sometimes it helps to say these things out loud. Especially to someone who’s also been through it.’
‘Thank you.’
He handed the pooper-scooper over. It was wrapped as carefully as a present in a curl of thick brown paper.
‘I’ll see you again, I hope. I want to know what happens to that diamond!’
As Jane was leaving the shop, her phone rang. It was Sarah.
‘Jane, I’ve just been matched with a retired dentist from Paignton. He’s in Newbay this afternoon, watching a sing-along matinee of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers at the Odeon. He wants to know if I can meet him for tea afterwards.’
‘Well?’ said Jane.
‘Are you availabl
e for back-up?’ Sarah asked. ‘After last time …’
Sarah’s date at the Merry Widow had turned out to be something of a disaster. Her date was not seventy. He hadn’t been seventy since 2003. And those weren’t his own teeth. He took them out to eat his soup. At least that’s what Sarah claimed.
‘I’ll be there,’ said Jane, promising to walk Sarah as far as the teashop where this new prospect wanted to meet when his film was finished.
‘Heaven only knows whether it’s worth it but there have to be some nice single men over sixty out there who aren’t just looking for someone to help them remember their medication,’ said Sarah.
‘I’m sure there are,’ said Jane. She’d just met one, hadn’t she? She thought about telling Sarah about the man in the pet shop. He was a widower. He seemed very nice. His teeth looked original. But for some reason Jane decided to keep it to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The diamond ring made its reappearance that evening, while Dani, Jane, Flossie and Jed were eating supper. Jed was holding forth about the evils of capitalism. As usual. Flossie was gazing up at him like a disciple. Dani and Jane were glazing over. Suddenly, Jezza made a bolt for the dog flap but didn’t quite get there. Instead he squatted on the doormat and his doggy eyes bulged as he finally passed the precious gem.
‘I feel sick,’ said Jed, dashing for the bathroom. Flossie went with him, ever attentive.
‘Wimp. I don’t know how he expects to foment a revolution when he can’t hack a bit of dog poo,’ Dani muttered as she took the doormat outside to begin the real dirty work.
And there it was! No wonder Jezza had looked so uncomfortable, poor thing. The ring was bigger than Dani had imagined.
‘Wow. Boil the kettle!’ she called to Jane.
A little rinse in a bowl full of boiling water and washing-up liquid later – outside on the step, of course – and the ring looked absolutely perfect.
‘Gosh, that is lovely,’ said Jane, when she saw it.
‘I think it’s Tiffany,’ said Dani, holding the ring between her fingers and tilting it back and forth so that the diamond caught the light.
‘Can I have a go?’ asked Jane, slipping it onto the ring finger of her right hand. ‘Very classy. Nat’s got good taste.’
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