The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers

by Sheila Norton

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Gran was saying to me now. ‘You’re tough. You’re your own person. You’ve made your decision: now you have to get on with it. Just keep looking to the future. Don’t look back and … wallow, will you. Wallowing makes people bitter.’

  I knew she was referring to my mum. To Ireland. I knew she was right – Mum had wallowed about it for as long as I could remember, and although I didn’t really blame her, it wasn’t the way I intended to live.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, wiping my eyes and straightening my shoulders. ‘I’m not going to wallow. I’m meeting Amber for a drink tonight – she’s moved back here too. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘OK.’ Gran smiled. ‘Baby steps, though, eh, my lovely? It’s going to take time to adapt. Especially for Mia.’

  With Gran’s warning very much on my mind, I set off to meet Amber that evening. I was keen to catch up and renew our friendship. But as soon as we’d got the first drink in front of us and started to chat, a wave of exhaustion suddenly came over me like a fog.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Amber asked, as I sat back in my chair, yawning, running a hand across my eyes.

  ‘I’m fine. Sorry. It’s just that it’s all been a bit … full on, you know. All the upset of moving out, doing my best to make it OK for Mia, leaving most of my things behind until I can get a place of my own. And then Mum being, well, Mum. All false cheer and chirpiness, saying how much fun it’s going to be, having me living with her – as if it was a matter of choice—’

  ‘And it wasn’t?’

  I frowned. ‘No. I wanted my marriage to work – doesn’t everyone? I never wanted it to end up like this.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ she soothed me. ‘But at least your mum’s happy to have you, till you can get somewhere of your own.’

  ‘I know. She’s been very good. I’m not complaining, I’m just tired. I shouldn’t have promised Mia Monty would be able to sleep on her bed – it was just something I went along with, to help make the move easier, but now it’s ended up with Mia getting really upset over it. I’ve had to talk to her this afternoon, try to make her understand that he’s probably not coming back. Let’s face it, a fox might have got him, or anything.’ I sighed. ‘I haven’t told Mia that, of course. Considering he’s not even her cat, she seems to have made a huge trauma out of him being missing. I’m thinking it’s a kind of displacement from all the other worries: leaving Josh, changing schools, and so on.’ I stopped and glanced at Amber. ‘Sorry. This must all be dead boring for you, not having kids. Or liking cats.’

  She smiled. ‘Don’t be silly. I can appreciate what a tough time it is for you. It’ll get easier, though, won’t it? Children adapt quickly, so they say.’

  ‘Yes, I hope so. I’m thinking perhaps I’ll ask Mum if we can get a new kitten.’

  ‘Why not a dog?’ She grinned. ‘I know I’m biased, but they’re such good company. Didn’t you used to have a dog when we were kids back here?’

  ‘Yes, Jake – he was a setter, a complete nutcase! He was already getting old when I was living here. And before him, we had a spaniel, Penny. But Mum didn’t want another dog after Jake died.’

  ‘Do you think she’d consider one now, though? She only works part time, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. Maybe – I’d have to talk to her. I hadn’t thought of it, but I suppose, with all the countryside around here for walks…’

  ‘Exactly. Honestly, there’s nothing like getting out in the fresh air with a lovely dog for company. It cheers you up no matter how stressed you feel. It’s really helped me to settle back into the village. People always stop and talk to you when you’re walking a dog. There’s actually a little group of us here now that have started walking our dogs together.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Not all the time, of course. Mostly evenings and weekends, sometimes early mornings. It varies, depending who’s free, who’s at work, obviously.’

  ‘Where do you meet?’

  ‘At the park. We have an arrangement now that anyone who can make it meets at the park gates with their dogs at set times of day. We all have different commitments, so none of us are there every time, but there’s usually at least one other person to walk with and talk to. The dogs love it, too.’ She smiled. ‘But of course I take Benji for walks on my own, at other times – through the copse, or along the stream.’

  ‘It sounds a great idea. Do I know any of the others?’

  ‘Yes, you do, actually. Sara.’

  ‘Sara?’ I questioned, frowning.

  ‘Sara Buckingham. Remember her? From our class at school.’

  ‘Not Snooty Sara? Oh my God. I bet it’s a barrel of laughs walking with her.’

  Amber chuckled. ‘Oh, she’s not so bad now. Come on, Nic, we’ve all grown up a bit since those days! Anyway, I’ve told her you’re back in Furzewell and she said it’d be nice to meet up. In fact, she wanted to come tonight but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.’

  ‘Huh. Thanks.’ I drained the rest of my beer. ‘My mother wanted to come tonight too, believe it or not, and I think even that would’ve been preferable to spending an evening with Snooty Sara.’

  Amber laughed again. ‘She’s all right, you’ll see. She broke up with her own partner a year or so back, so you’ll have something in common. Want another drink?’

  ‘OK, thanks. Just one more. Perhaps it’ll help me sleep,’ I joked.

  I watched her as she stood at the bar, chatting with the barmaid. She seemed to have slipped back into village life happily enough. I supposed it was easier, being single and not having a child to worry about. And perhaps she was right – perhaps the dog did help, too.

  ‘Who are the other dog walkers, then?’ I asked as she came back with our drinks and dropped two packets of crisps on the table.

  ‘You might not know them. There’s Craig; he went to our school, but he was a few years below us. And Simon’s quite a bit older than us – his wife died a few years back, very tragic, very sudden…’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘He’s lovely, though. And Craig’s single too. Well, he usually seems to be seeing someone, but never anything serious, you know the type…’ She stopped, her head on one side, thinking for a moment. ‘In fact, none of us in the group have got partners. Isn’t that strange? So you’d fit right in,’ she added with a smile.

  I didn’t smile back, though. Suddenly, the thought of fitting right in with a group of lonely hearts dog walkers felt so sad, so completely not what I’d imagined for myself all those years ago when I’d walked out of Furzewell church, newly married to the love of my life, that I just wanted to put my head down and cry big fat tears into my beer.

  ‘Well, it does sound like a nice group, although I haven’t even got a dog at the moment,’ I said, swallowing and staring out of the pub window into the darkness. ‘I’ll just have to see how things work out.’

  CHAPTER 4

  As that first week passed, we settled in at Eagle House as well as could be expected. It still felt odd, and slightly unreal, as if we were just there for a holiday.

  ‘Nothing wrong with having a bit of a holiday, is there?’ Mum said when I told her how I was feeling. ‘You’ll be starting your new job on Monday. Then you’ll start to feel like it’s real life, won’t you, once you get into more of a routine. Make the most of it in the meantime.’

  ‘I wish you’d let me cook, or do some of the housework, though,’ I said. ‘I can’t go on like this, having you wait on us hand and foot, if we’re going to be staying for some time.’

  ‘If? Of course you’ll be staying. This is your home now, just as it always used to be. And there’s plenty of time for you to help with the cooking and so on. Just enjoy spending time with Mia, get settled in.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. You know I appreciate it.’ I gave her a hug. ‘But please, there’s no need for all this.’ I waved my hand around the kitchen, where she was busy preparing a huge chicken dinner with about six differe
nt vegetables and an apple pie for dessert. ‘We’d be happy with sausages and chips, or a takeaway – you shouldn’t be going to all this trouble.’

  ‘Nonsense! I love having you both here to cook for and look after,’ she sang back in the same overexcited tone she’d been using since we’d arrived. ‘And some good home cooking will do you both the world of good. Now, go and sit at the table, I’m just dishing up.’

  There had still been no sign of Monty – not that I was expecting it. Mia and I had made some posters, which we put up on lamp-posts and telegraph poles around the village, but nobody had come forward with any sightings of him. It felt too soon to broach the subject about a new kitten, or dog, with Mum. Despite the fact that she seemed so excited about having us staying with her, I still couldn’t help thinking it was, really, enough for now that she had two extra humans in the house, making a lot of extra mess and noise, without being asked to take on a new pet too!

  To try to take Mia’s mind off the situation, Mum and I filled the remaining afternoons of that week with some fun activities. One dark, drizzly day we had lunch as a picnic on the lounge floor, with a tablecloth spread out, sandwiches cut into fancy shapes and all of Mia’s dolls and soft toys seated around on the carpet with us. Then we made cakes and decorated them with our names. Another afternoon when it was cold but bright, we wrapped up warmly and went for a walk through Cuckoo Copse, teaching Mia the names of different trees, birds and plants, and playing I-Spy as we walked. On the Saturday, when it poured with rain, we all snuggled down on the sofa and watched one of Mia’s favourite films. I’d like to say I was adjusting to life as a single parent, but to be honest, Mia and I had always done things like this on our own, so the biggest difference was that Mum was with us. I’d become used, in recent years, to Mia and I being a little twosome, and despite the sadness of our situation now, it was admittedly quite nice that we were now part of a trio again – as we’d been, originally, with Josh. Before things changed.

  On the Sunday I talked to Mia again about the new school, telling her how exciting it would be, how much fun she’d have making new friends. She listened in silence, holding Pink Bunny, her thumb in her mouth – a habit she’d given up when she was three.

  ‘Of course, it’s always a bit scary too,’ I added gently. ‘Anything new can feel quite frightening, but as soon as you meet your new friends you’ll forget about feeling scared.’

  No response. I hung up her new uniform while she lay in bed, waiting for her story, and when I turned back to smile at her, she was looking like she was going to cry.

  ‘I don’t like red,’ she said in a little voice. ‘I want to wear my blue uniform.’ There were tears in her eyes now, which I wiped away gently as I pulled her close for a cuddle. ‘And why hasn’t anyone found Monty yet?’ she added. ‘It’s not fair.’

  In the morning, the sun was shining, the sky as blue as a summer day. Mia dressed in silence, an unhappy expression on her face as she pulled on the red uniform. Mum and I, exchanging knowing looks, chatted chirpily over breakfast about the beautiful day, the birds singing, the fact that it would soon be March and spring would be on the way.

  ‘I’ve got a tummy ache,’ Mia said, pushing her cereal bowl away.

  I knew it was due to anxiety. She was too young to invent an illness to avoid going to school. Having finally encouraged her to nibble half a slice of toast by adding her favourite chocolate spread, and chasing her off to clean her teeth, we were then in a rush to leave on time. Although it was still cold outside, the sunshine made me feel more optimistic, and I kept up the one-sided, excited chatter as we walked the short distance to the little village school.

  Furzewell Church of England Primary School was in a tiny, old-fashioned building and was so small that most of the classes combined two school years each. Mia was used to being in a large class of children all the same age, but would now be in a smaller one, mixed with the children from the year above. My own post was with the reception class who, as they tended to need extra help, were the only ones taught on their own. When I’d brought Mia for her visit to the school a few weeks previously, her new teacher, Mr Gregory, had appointed two little girls to look after her. I’d been pleased and reassured when she skipped out of her classroom after the visit, telling me about Olivia S and Olivia P, and how funny it was that they were both called Olivia but one had dark hair and one had fair hair, and they were both on the same reading book as she was, at her other school. Looking back now, I realised that she really hadn’t taken on board, back then, that this was going to be her new school, permanently. Her new reality.

  Today, she clung to my hand at the classroom door, looking at her feet, her lip wobbling.

  ‘I don’t want to go in,’ she whispered. ‘I want to stay with you, Mummy.’

  ‘Hello, Mia.’ Mr Gregory was smiling down at us. ‘Come on in. Olivia P – why don’t you come and show Mia where to hang her coat, in case she’s forgotten. We’re starting a new project today, Mia. I think you’ll enjoy it. I’ll be telling everyone all about it after assembly.’

  With some subtle encouragement, she was eased over the threshold and into the classroom. I hesitated, aware that I needed to be reporting to my own classroom. Mr Gregory gave me a smile.

  ‘Probably best if you leave her with the two Olivias,’ he said. ‘She’ll be fine. They’ve been looking forward to helping her settle in. Say goodbye to Mummy, Mia.’

  ‘I’ll only be in the room next door,’ I reminded her as I gave her a hug. ‘I’ll see you at lunchtime, remember. Have fun!’

  And with a last mock-cheerful wave at the door, I turned away, doing my best to hide my own nervousness. The day passed slowly. My little class of reception children was delightful, as was their teacher, Mrs French, and I was kept busy. But I still couldn’t stop glancing at the clock and wondering how Mia was getting on in the next room. I saw her briefly at lunchtime, but my little charges were let out to play at a different time from the bigger children, so my playground duty was over by the time Mia’s class came out.

  ‘Well, how did it go? Did you have a lovely day?’ I asked her when we finally met up at ten past three.

  She shrugged.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Her face was white with tiredness. I could understand it. I felt tired myself, just from the effort of learning my new children’s names and getting used to the way they did everything. I decided not to press her, but I had made a promise as a reward for us both after our first day.

  ‘Come on, then,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘We’re going to the café, aren’t we? What sort of cake do you think you’d like?’

  This kind of occasional after-school treat had been a highlight of our week back at the old school. I’d been thinking about it all day, certain it would cheer her up and help her settle into the new routine. But Mia looked up at me wearily, shaking her head.

  ‘Mummy, I just want to go home,’ she said sadly.

  ‘Oh. Really? Are you too tired even for a cake? OK, then. Maybe another day. Perhaps we’ll have hot chocolate back at Nanny’s house instead.’

  ‘I mean, I want to go to our other home,’ Mia said, her voice scratchy with unshed tears. ‘I want to go back to my other school. I don’t want to stay here, Mummy. Why do we have to? I want to see Bella. Why did you tell me I could have Monty instead? Where has he gone? Why can’t we find him?’

  I tried to put my arms round her, tried to tell her that it would all be OK, she’d soon be happy here, soon get used to the new school, but she just shook her head, trying not to cry.

  ‘I knew it was going to be hard,’ I said to Mum as Mia went up to her bedroom as soon as we got home, saying she wanted to play on her own. ‘But this constant thing about finding Monty – it’s so wearing. She’s obviously using it to deflect from the things she’s really unhappy about.’

  ‘Well,’ Mum said, putting a cup of tea down in front of me and smiling. ‘Give her time, I’m sure she’
ll be OK, love. But in the meantime, if the cat is really such a big deal for her, why don’t we get a new one?’

  ‘Would you mind? Would Monty mind, if he does come back?’

  ‘I can’t see that happening,’ she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘Poor thing, I do hope he’s with someone, being looked after, and not – well, that nothing horrible happened to him. But I’m happy to get a new kitten, of course. Especially if it will help Mia. What do you think?’

  ‘It would be lovely,’ I agreed. ‘Or … I was wondering … Amber suggested we might get a dog. I mean, I’d get the dog, it would be my responsibility. I’d look after it and walk it and everything, and take it with me when we eventually get a place of our own—’

  ‘You don’t have to sound so apologetic about the idea, Nicky.’ Mum smiled. ‘Of course you can get a dog. We always used to have dogs when you were younger, didn’t we. It’d be nice to have one around the house again.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, and then, my enthusiasm for the idea of a new dog overcoming my worries for a moment, added: ‘Do you remember that spaniel we had when I was quite little? Penny, we called her, didn’t we? It was such fun, growing up with a dog.’

  ‘She was good company for you,’ Mum said. ‘You being an only child.’ She sighed. ‘Funny how history’s repeated itself – with Mia.’

  The smile dropped from my face. Yes, like me – and like Josh too, as a matter of fact – Mia was an only child. But however long Mum waited, with that meaningful look on her face, she should know perfectly well by now that I wasn’t going to talk about the reason for that.