by Rosie Harris
As it was, their home had the atmosphere of a show house; immaculate with not a thing out of place, presided over by Sandra in the role of being the perfect mother and the children as spic and span as two dolls. Margaret wondered if they ever had runny noses or dirty hands.
Even during meal times they behaved perfectly. Hannah, who was now five, had eaten neatly and drank without spilling from the age of two. Margaret wasn’t sure whether this was Sandra’s influence or the strict training imposed on the children by the German au pair Sandra had installed so that she could continue her career as a model again.
Sensing that her uninvited visits were a source of annoyance to Sandra, Margaret resolved not to impose again.
She turned instead to her old friends, Jan, Brenda and Thelma. Even their company, though, had lost something these days.
She had invited the three of them for coffee a few days after the party and received very mixed reactions about the changes she had made to Willow House.
Jan was sharply critical. ‘Not content with filching my designer from under my nose you’ve pinched my ideas as well,’ she’d commented acidly.
‘You should be flattered that Margaret thinks you have such good taste,’ Thelma had interposed quickly, trying to cool things.
‘I didn’t steal him, you introduced us all to him and so when I wanted to make some changes I automatically thought of him,’ defended Margaret.
‘And you’ve had him working exclusively for you for months!’
‘Well, I think it’s all very lovely,’ murmured Brenda, ‘just the right blend of old and new. Beautifully done!’
‘Well, it would be with Jason giving it his undivided attention,’ Jan snapped at her.
‘The same as he did when he worked on your place! I’m sure its one of the secrets of his success,’ enthused Brenda.
‘He put forward ideas, and he supervised the workmen, but he didn’t make it his sole enterprise,’ Jan retorted.
The electrifying tension between herself and Jan worried Margaret. It had stopped her from inviting either Brenda or Thelma over on their own in case that made matters worse. It was ridiculous, of course, but she didn’t want to give Jan the impression that she was stealing her friends as well as her decorator.
It made her feel more out on a limb than ever.
‘Mother, are you listening to me?’
The sharpness of Charles’s tone brought her back to the present.
‘Of course I am, darling.’
His face was so serious. She forced herself to pay attention.
‘I’m telling it to you exactly as it is, Mother,’ he stated forcibly. His mouth was a thin grim line, his dark brows drawn together in a worried scowl. He had never looked more like his father than he did at this moment, Margaret thought, as she stared back at him across the imposing mahogany desk that had once been Reginald’s.
‘But we’ve always been so well off. Your father never stinted … leastways not until he retired. Since then, of course, he’s acted so parsimoniously that it’s been difficult living with him. Even so …’
‘Why do you think he had a heart attack, Mother? Why do you think he gave up the social round he was so much a part of and stopped playing golf when he enjoyed it so much?’
‘It was his doctor’s orders. After his heart attack he was told to take things easy. Golf is a very strenuous game …’
‘I know he was told to take things easy and not to play golf, but he could still have retained his membership at the golf club. As a social member he would have been able to meet up with all his friends there.’
‘You know very well he didn’t want to have anything to do with any of them once he knew he couldn’t play.’
Charles shook his head. ‘He couldn’t afford to do so any more; that was the real reason he shunned them all.’
‘What on earth are you talking about, Charles? Absolute nonsense! Your father has always been able to afford to do whatever he wanted to.’
Twenty-Two
Margaret walked away from Charles’s office in a daze. She had thought he was a clever realistic businessman like Reginald had been but it now looked as though he hadn’t got his finger on the pulse at all. All this talk of being hard up was utter nonsense. It was no good him trying to pull the wool over her eyes simply so that she would agree to move out of Willow House so that he could sell it and enjoy making a profit from it.
She wished there was someone she could discus it all with. She didn’t want to involve either Alison or Steven because it might lead to a family row and since they would also benefit from the monies from Willow House they might even side with Charles rather than with her.
She was tempted to talk to Thelma, Jan and Brenda about it when they next met for coffee but then decided it wouldn’t be wise to confide in them over such a personal matter.
An hour later when she met up with them and watched Brenda cuddling her little dog on her lap, half concealed by her coat in case anyone spotted she had brought it into the café, she wondered if perhaps a dog would be the answer for her.
If she had a dog then she could sort things out in her mind by talking to it without any fear of it divulging what she had said.
She quite liked the idea; that was something she could discuss with the other three, she decided.
When she mentioned aloud that she was toying with the idea of getting a pet because she found it was rather lonely living at Willow House on her own they all had quite separate opinions on the subject.
Jan deplored the idea. ‘You’ve only just had the place redecorated so why on earth do you want it all messed up by some animal?’ she demanded.
‘I’ve already explained. At times I feel lonely.’
‘Well, it’s your choice but if you have a dog then you must expect some damage as well as hairs all over the furniture,’ Jan pointed out.
‘Oh, I think a cat is much better, so warm and they love to be petted,’ Thelma intervened.
‘Cats are all right if you don’t mind them wandering all over your work surfaces in the kitchen or clawing the arms of your favourite chair.’
‘Well, at least you don’t have to exercise them,’ Thelma said with a laugh. ‘The very idea of owning a dog and having to take it for a walk two or three times a day puts me right off having one.’
‘You don’t have to do that if you have a small one like I have. You can even train them to use a soil tray,’ Brenda said as she smoothed the silky coat of the little animal on her lap.
‘What you’ve got is a lapdog not a proper dog,’ Thelma said with a laugh. ‘The sort of dog Margaret needs is one that is big enough to be real company and also to act as a guard dog.’
‘I suppose it might be a good idea,’ Jan agreed grudgingly. ‘I wouldn’t like to live in a place as large as Willow House all on my own. It might be all right during the day but at night I would be on edge and worried by every sound I heard.’
They spent a long time discussing what sort of dog Margaret ought to buy and exactly where she ought to go to get it.
‘I think you should buy one from a rescue centre,’ Brenda said firmly. ‘That way you will be giving love as well as receiving it.’
‘You mean one that has been abandoned?’ Margaret said in surprise.
‘Exactly.’
‘If it’s been abandoned then doesn’t that mean there is something wrong with it? Possibly that it has attacked someone and that’s why they don’t want it?’
‘That’s not always the case. The previous owner may have moved house to somewhere smaller, perhaps a flat, where they are unable to accommodate it, or gone abroad and can’t take it with them.’
‘Or the owner may have died and there is no one in the family who is prepared to take on a dog.’
‘It might even be a stray. Dropped out of a car by someone who is fed up with looking after it.’
‘Surely no one would do a thing like that,’ Margaret said in a shocked voice.
‘You’d be su
rprised,’ Brenda said indignantly. ‘People can be very cruel, that’s why I said you should go to a rescue shelter and pick one from there.’
Margaret sighed. ‘I wouldn’t have any idea what sort of dog to pick.’
‘Yes you would; in fact if you walked down the line of kennels the dog would pick you. They’d probably all want you to take them home but one of them will touch your heart and you won’t be able to resist it.’
Margaret frowned. ‘I’m not at all sure that I would want the responsibility of looking after a dog though. It would be a bit like having a child …’
‘Or a sick husband,’ Jan said waspishly.
‘I would like to be able to give the idea a trial. You know, have a dog for a couple of weeks to see if we got on together.’
‘I’m sure there are plenty of people who would welcome the chance of letting you do that. Someone to look after their dog for a couple of weeks while they went away on holiday,’ Thelma said thoughtfully.
‘Perhaps I should put a notice in the newspaper or in the newsagent’s shop?’
The matter was still in the air when they parted but Margaret couldn’t put the idea out of her head. She mulled it over for another couple of days and, as her feeling of loneliness increased, so the idea of having a dog became more and more desirable.
Finally she resolved that she would write out a card and take it along to the newsagent’s and ask him if he would put it in his window.
‘Of course I will, Mrs Wright,’ Gordon Bond said with a warm smile.
‘Thank you!’ Margaret returned his smile gratefully. He had been delivering their newspapers for over twenty years but she hadn’t seen him to speak to since his father had died several years ago and he had taken over the business
‘It doesn’t indicate what breed of a dog or even what size you’d consider,’ he said as he scanned the card she’d handed to him.
‘That’s because I don’t really know,’ Margaret said with a sigh.
He reread the card tapping the edge of it thoughtfully against his chin.
‘Am I right in thinking that you have never owned a dog Mrs Wright?’
‘Never!’
‘Then why do you want one now?’
Margaret hesitated. ‘I’m lonely. As you probably know, my husband has recently died and now I’m finding that living at Willow House all on my own is rather quiet and lonely.’
Nodding his head thoughtfully Gordon Bond studied the card again. ‘I tell you what, Mrs Wright, I think I can help you over this. I’m going on holiday at the end of the week so why don’t I leave my dog with you and you look after him until I get back in two weeks’ time?’
‘Oh!’ Margaret looked startled. ‘I’ve never met him, he may not like me!’ And I may not like him! she thought.
‘I’m sure the two of you will get on like a house on fire. He’s a very sedate old boy and he’ll be on his very best behaviour.’
‘Well … If you think it would work then I’m willing to give it a try but what happens if I find I can’t manage him.’
‘You will be able to, after all it is only for two weeks, remember,’ Gordon Bond told her confidently.
‘As long as you feel happy about the arrangement.’
‘Oh I do. I’ll bring him round on Friday afternoon together with all his paraphernalia. His name is Bellamy and I’ll make sure he is happily settled in. We’re not leaving until mid-morning on Saturday so I’ll phone you in the morning to make sure the pair of you like each other and that he has settled in and everything is OK,’ he promised.
‘I won’t need you to display that then, will I?’ Margaret murmured holding out her hand for the card she had given him.
‘Not at the moment, so I’ll pop it in the drawer until I come back from my holiday and we’ll see then what you want to do,’ he told her.
Twenty-Three
Margaret had no idea what sort of dog Bellamy would be and it came as a shock when Gordon Bond arrived late on Friday accompanied by a large black Labrador.
Nervously she stretched out a hand to pat it.
The moment the dog saw Margaret’s hand coming towards him he began to bark. It was a deep growling bark that scared her stiff and she pulled her hand back quickly.
‘Now now, that will do,’ Gordon Bond reproved the dog. ‘This is Mrs Wright and you’re going to live here at Willow House with her for the next two weeks so settle down and be friendly.’
Again Margaret made an attempt to pat him and this time he sat quietly, staring up into her face enquiringly.
‘Aren’t you going to come in?’ Margaret held the door wide so that they could enter.
The dog pushed past Gordon as though eager to be there. Once inside he began sniffing everywhere as they went into the living room.
‘He’s just making himself at home,’ Gordon Bond explained as he unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar and the dog shook himself vigorously as if to make sure that he was no longer restrained.
‘I’ll go fetch all his equipment from the car while you get acquainted,’ Gordon said turning to leave the room.
‘Stay!’ he ordered, as Bellamy barked again and began to follow him.
Left alone with the dog Margaret stared at him unsure what to do. The dog stared back at her. She stood there petrified as he sniffed at her feet and then looked up at her again as if waiting for her to do or say something.
She had no idea what he wanted but to her great relief at that moment Gordon Bond returned with the dog’s basket which he told her was also Bellamy’s bed, a plaid blanket, a carrier bag of food, and a drinking bowl as well as a feeding bowl.
‘Shall I put this lot in the kitchen?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I suppose so. Thank you.’ She wasn’t too sure about the dog’s basket being in there but she could always move them later on, she thought.
‘What about his basket? Remember that is also his bed. Do you want him to sleep in the kitchen? I think he would be better in the hallway or even underneath the stairs.’
‘Oh do you! Very well, if that is what you think is the most suitable place.’
‘Right! Leave it to me.’
Watched by the dog Gordon found a suitable spot to put the large wicker basket and after sniffing round it for a minute or two Bellamy barked his acceptance.
He barked again as Gordon handed over to Margaret the plaid blanket that he had brought. ‘That’s his blanket and I advise you to put it over the chair he will be using in your living room to protect it from hairs.’
‘Chair?’ Margaret frowned, completely perplexed. ‘You mean he sits on a chair?’
‘That’s right; he likes to have his own chair. I’m surprised he hasn’t laid claim to one of the armchairs already. He’s probably being polite and waiting to see which one you sit in,’ he added with a laugh.
Margaret tried to laugh as well but found it impossible. She had never envisaged there would be all this fuss made over Bellamy coming to stay with her. She had thought you kept a dog out in the back yard in a kennel.
‘Right, I think we’ve done everything we can to make him feel at home. Now he hasn’t been fed yet because I thought it would help him to settle better if he started off with a meal in your house. Let’s go into the kitchen and I can show you what to give him.’
As he unpacked the carrier bag on to one of the work surfaces Margaret stared at the selection of cans of dog food and bags of biscuits laid out there. She listened as Gordon explained which ones Bellamy had in the morning and which in the evening and how important it was to get the mix right.
Then Gordon prepared an example and handed the feeding bowl to her and told her to put it down on the floor for Bellamy.
She did so and stood back. The dog stared from one to the other of them expectantly.
Gordon half filled the dog’s water bowl with cold water and handed it to Margaret. ‘Put that down for him as well. You need to keep that topped up all the time because he likes a drink of water at odd t
imes during the day.’
She placed the water bowl alongside the food and stood back. Nothing happened. Bellamy continued to look from his food to her and then to Gordon and then back to his food again.
‘He has been trained to wait until you give him the order, “Eat,”’ he told her.
‘I see! My goodness he is very well trained,’ she commented as she issued the command and Bellamy immediately went to his dish and began devouring what was there with gusto.
While the dog ate his dish of food Gordon went over his daily routine to make sure Margaret knew what was expected of her. At the conclusion he handed her a card. ‘It’s all written down there not only how often each day you take him out for a walk but also his menu for each day. You will see he likes his tins of food to be rotated so that he has something different each day. Now is everything clear?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Margaret said.
‘Nothing to it, really,’ Gordon Bond assured her as he headed for the door.
Bellamy looked from his bowl and started to follow him but Gordon held up a finger. ‘Stay!’ he ordered. ‘You are going to live here with Mrs Wright for a couple of weeks.’
He came back into the kitchen and patted Bellamy, held the dog’s face between his hands and let the dog lick his own face and then he was gone.
Bellamy gave a sharp bark, looked at Margaret and then went back into the kitchen to make sure that he had eaten every scrap from his bowl. Satisfied that he had done so, he wandered into the sitting room and stood there looking around. As soon as Margaret sat down he bounded up into one of the other armchairs and happily settled himself down.
Margaret knew she ought to move him and cover the chair with his rug but she still felt rather nervous of him and decided that as long as he was quiet it was best to leave him alone.
Twenty-Four
Living with Bellamy was a whole new experience for Margaret. Some days were good and she enjoyed the dog’s company; others were disastrous and she wondered if she was going to be able to hold out until Gordon Bond returned from his holiday.
She had to admit in all honesty that she and Bellamy did not see eye to eye. She was sure that he didn’t mean to be disruptive and cause trouble. When he did, which was frequently, and she reprimanded him he sat staring at her as though completely puzzled by her harsh tone and hard words.