by Jill Mansell
Daisy, scooping the little dog into her arms, kissed the top of his head before proudly presenting him to Dev.
‘This is how much I missed Clarissa. I found him at the same rescue center. His name’s Clive.’
Having been woken up, Clive squirmed and licked Dev’s hand with enthusiasm. With his sleek black coat and chunky wriggling body, he resembled a fat baby seal.
‘Any particular breed?’ Dev only said it to be polite; the puppy was clearly a hybrid through and through. Although the length of the body suggested a touch of dachshund.
‘He’s just Clive.’ Lovingly, Daisy kissed the dog’s funny pointy nose. ‘He’s unique.’
‘And you keep him in a cardboard box,’ Dev observed. ‘A battered Ambrosia Creamed Rice box at that. Classy.’
‘I bought him a proper basket, but he won’t stay in it. He likes this one best.’
‘Clive and Clarissa,’ Dev mused, then turned as they both heard frantic scratching on the other side of the office door.
When he opened it, Clarissa catapulted into the room. Pam, looking flustered and wringing her plump hands, said, ‘I’m sorry, she just came charging through reception…’
‘I left the car window open. She must have squeezed through. No problem,’ said Dev.
Quivering with interest, Pam peered past him at Daisy. ‘Everything OK in here?’
‘Absolutely fine.’ Dev smiled and firmly closed the door.
Spotting the alien creature in Daisy’s arms, Clarissa briskly shot into reverse.
‘I bet everyone’s taking bets out in reception,’ Dev remarked dryly, ‘wondering how we’re getting on.’
‘Never mind us. How are these two going to get along?’
With a joyous bark, Clive thumped his tail and wriggled to get down. Quivering with alarm, Clarissa flattened herself against the far wall. ‘She’s not sure yet,’ said Daisy with a grin. ‘She thinks she likes him, but she hasn’t quite made up her mind.’
‘Woof,’ barked Clive, desperate to win Clarissa over.
‘She just needs a bit of time,’ Daisy explained.
‘Woof woof woof.’ Clive writhed frantically in her arms.
‘It’s OK, sweetheart,’ Daisy spoke in soothing tones as Clarissa eyed him warily, ‘he’s not going to hurt you.’
‘Now who do they remind me of?’ said Dev.
Acknowledgments
Huge and grateful thanks to Marie-Louise Pecorelli, marketing manager of the fabulous Manor House hotel at Castle Combe, Wilts, for all her help in explaining to me how a hotel is run. Needless to say, the fictional characters in this novel aren’t nearly so efficient…
About the Author
Jill Mansell lives with her partner and children in Bristol and writes full time. Actually, that’s not true; she watches TV, eats gum drops, admires the rugby players training in the sports field behind her house, and spends hours on the Internet marveling at how many other writers have blogs. Only when she’s completely run out of ways to procrastinate does she write.