‘It’s none of our business, really, Nic, is it, if she doesn’t want to talk about it,’ Amber rebuked me gently.
I shrugged. ‘Sorry. She’s just so bloody irritating.’
‘I think she’s insecure, actually.’
I snorted. ‘If that was insecurity, I’d hate to see her when she’s feeling confident.’
Amber sighed. ‘Well, I wonder if all that showing off was just her way of trying to impress you and make you like her, as she obviously realises you weren’t friends at school. Anyway, I hope you’re going to try and get on with her if you join us for dog walks, when Smartie’s old enough.’
‘Of course I will. Sorry.’ I gave her a hug goodbye, feeling mean now for spoiling the tone of the get-together. ‘It will be nice to get to know more people. I’m looking forward to it.’
Smartie was having his second vaccination the following day and would soon be able to start short walks outside. The prospect of joining the others to walk our dogs round the park together in the sunshine, the thought of long light evenings ahead, and warm days when we might not need our coats and welly boots, made me suddenly feel more cheerful. I certainly wasn’t going to let Snooty Sara spoil it for me!
CHAPTER 6
March soon became April, but the weather was still something of a disappointment so far. Every now and then there were some mild, sunny days; my little charges at school would be allowed to play outside without their coats, everyone would be smiling and pointing out the early blossom in the trees, the primroses by the roadside – and then the next day we’d be back to dark skies, drizzle or gale-force winds.
‘Is this winter never going to end?’ I complained to Gran when she called round one Saturday morning in the first week of April. Mum was at work in the shop and Mia was playing in her bedroom. ‘It’s Easter next weekend.’
It would be Mia’s weekend for staying with Josh, and we’d agreed that he’d keep her for Easter Monday too. It had seemed only fair when we’d agreed on it, but the nearer it got, the less I liked the idea. Every time she was with him, she came back with expensive gifts – toys, clothes, little purses, bags and trinkets that she treasured – and tales of extravagant outings and treats, like going to the cinema or theme parks. I had really mixed feelings about this. On one level I was glad Josh seemed to be making the most of his time with Mia, and glad she was enjoying being with her dad, but I couldn’t help worrying that he was trying to buy her affection. I couldn’t afford to buy her lots of extra treats like this myself, and I was frankly surprised he was able to find the money for them too. I didn’t like the idea of Mia becoming used to this kind of indulgence, taking it for granted and becoming spoilt. I tried to explain this to Gran, but she just sighed and shook her head.
‘It must be quite hard for him only seeing her every other weekend. He’s bound to miss her and maybe he’s frightened of losing her.’
‘He won’t lose her. I’d never try to stop him seeing her. I get that he wants to make their weekends together as nice as possible. But it’s a pity he didn’t make more effort with her like this when we were together.’
‘People don’t appreciate what they’ve got till it’s gone,’ she pointed out.
‘Well, he didn’t appreciate me and he still doesn’t, now I’m gone,’ I said. Then I sighed and added: ‘Sorry, Gran. I’m being a grump. This dreary weather probably isn’t helping either. If we’d just get a good long spell of sunshine I’m sure I’d feel more cheerful.’
Smartie, who’d just woken from a nap, suddenly stood up on his sturdy little paws and trotted over to me, giving a yawn so wide it nearly made him topple over. I laughed and rubbed his head, making his ears twitch.
‘That little chap should make you happy,’ Gran pointed out.
‘He does. And today’s going to be our first time out with the dog-walking group! We’re really looking forward to it, aren’t we, Smartie?’
He gave a little yelp and ran to look for his favourite toy, a red plastic thing that made a noise when he chewed it, like a demented budgie squawking.
Gran laughed. ‘Well, I’ll be getting home, then.’ She hauled herself out of her armchair with difficulty. ‘My dog-walking days are over, that’s for sure. I’m grateful enough that I can still walk myself. When the day comes that I can’t do that anymore, you can take me to the place in Switzerland where they do the euthanasia.’
‘Gran!’ I protested. ‘Don’t talk like that!’
‘Why not? You’d do it for this little fella, wouldn’t you, if his life wasn’t worth living?’ She grinned. ‘Don’t look so worried, girl. I’m good for a few years yet, all being well.’
‘Of course you are.’ I gave her a kiss goodbye. ‘Mind how you go.’
‘And you have fun with those dog walkers. It’ll cheer you up, being out in the fresh air, and the two of you making new friends.’
Half an hour later, Mia and I, togged up in our warm fleeces against the chilly wind, were walking to the park with Smartie on his lead. It wasn’t his first time out since his vaccinations were finished – we’d already been giving him short walks on his lead on our own, to get him used to the idea – but it would be his debut with the dog-walking group. I was so excited, and a little nervous, about how he might react to the other dogs that I hadn’t had time yet to think about how I was going to get on with the rest of the group.
Amber was waiting for us at the park gates, her dog Benji straining on his lead beside her. Waiting with her was a tall, good-looking guy in a chunky navy-blue sweater and smart jeans.
‘Nic, this is Craig,’ she said. ‘And Judy.’
Judy, a border collie, was sitting obediently next to her master, looking up at him adoringly. Her lead was draped casually around Craig’s shoulders, as if to draw attention to the fact that she was so well behaved, she didn’t need it.
‘Nice to meet you, Craig,’ I said. I pointed to my two little companions. ‘This is my daughter, Mia, and our new puppy, Smartie.’
Hearing his name, Smartie immediately stopped sniffing the ground around him, looked up and trotted excitedly towards the group, wagging his tail with delight as he noticed two potential new doggy friends. Benji seemed somewhat perturbed by this small newcomer, backing up closer to Amber’s legs as Smartie approached. But Judy remained dutifully frozen to the spot, watching for Craig’s instructions. Smartie sat down and, seeming unsure how to deal with the situation, gave himself a good scratch with his back paw. We all laughed, and the ice was broken. Craig began to talk to me about which years we’d been in at school – I didn’t remember him at all but he said my name was familiar – and nobody actually noticed Sara arriving until her bichon frise, Babette, began to sniff around Smartie, and Smartie stumbled to his feet, tail wagging again. Friend made – if only it was that easy for humans!
‘It doesn’t look like Simon’s going to make it today,’ Amber said, looking at her watch. ‘Come on, let’s get going. He’ll catch us up if he does come. He’s a landscape gardener,’ she explained to me as we began to walk along the path into the park. ‘He often has to work Saturdays. He’ll probably turn up tomorrow, and he usually makes the evening walks.’
Mia was quiet as we walked along. I let her hold Smartie’s lead for a while, hovering close beside her in case the puppy suddenly got spooked by one of the other dogs and tried to run off.
‘Sorry,’ I said to the others as Smartie kept stopping to investigate new scents, skipping delightedly from tree to tree, sticking his nose into flowerbeds and patches of weeds, while Mia and I gently encouraged him to keep up. ‘I think we’re going to slow you down.’
‘Only for a little while,’ Amber said. ‘When he’s a bit bigger he’ll probably outrun them all. Well, maybe not this one,’ she added with a grin, at which she let Benji off his lead and stood back as he took off like a rocket, running across the grass in huge circles, his tail flying behind him.
‘Oooh!’ Mia said, her eyes wide with surprise. ‘He’s like a superhero
dog.’
‘Well, I know you said he was a whippet cross,’ I said to Amber, laughing. ‘But I reckon he could race greyhounds! Look at him go.’
Smartie, too, was transfixed by the sight of this superfast dog rushing past him like the wind. He stood motionless, staring at him, before turning to me and giving two little barks of consternation.
‘Does he want to run around with Benji, Mummy?’ Mia said.
‘No, he’s too little, and he’s not well trained enough yet,’ I said. ‘We’re not going to be letting him off his lead until we’re sure he’ll come back.’
Judy, obedient and responsive to every click of her master’s fingers like most border collies, spent the entire walk running after the ball Craig threw for her, bringing it back and running for it again – a routine which Smartie seemed to find as baffling as Benji’s furious racetrack performance. Instead, he contented himself with trotting along beside little Babette who, despite now being off her lead, seemed reluctant to run too far off, continually coming back to sniff Smartie and walk close to him.
‘She’s looking after him,’ Mia said happily.
‘Like your new best friends when you started at the school,’ I said. Her smile dropped and she fell quiet again, so I instantly wished I hadn’t said it.
We walked for about half an hour that first day. When we’d crossed the whole of the park, round the abandoned tennis courts and the disused paddling pool – now drained of water – and came to the other entrance at the far side, the others were going on to follow the stream out along the lane and as far as Cuckoo Copse and back.
‘It’ll be a bit too much for Smartie,’ I said, ‘as it’s only his first time.’
‘Of course,’ Amber agreed at once. ‘He’s still only a baby, you don’t want to tire him out.’
Sara, who’d spent most of the walk telling me about her recent outing to a swanky new restaurant with her boss, said she hoped we’d come out with them again soon, and Craig gave me a slightly flirtatious smile, and treated Mia to a funny little bow and shook her hand, making her giggle. We headed back across the park and home, where Smartie, exhausted by his exciting morning, went straight to his drinking bowl and then collapsed on the floor next to it and fell asleep.
‘Did you enjoy your walk?’ Mum asked when she arrived home from her shift at the shop at lunchtime.
‘Yes, it was fun,’ I said, realising I was looking forward to the next time already.
‘Benji is a superhero dog,’ Mia told Mum. ‘And Babette is Smartie’s new best friend, and Judy’s so clever, she knows exactly what Craig wants her to do even when he doesn’t say anything.’
‘Wow!’ Mum gave me a look, her eyebrows raised. It was the most excited Mia had sounded about anything since we’d moved into Eagle House. ‘It sounds like you’ve met some very interesting dogs. Let me take my coat off and you can tell me all about them.’
That afternoon Mia drew a picture of the dogs with their owners – stick men and women with long arms and legs, and stick dogs of varying sizes wearing big red smiling mouths – which she announced was a present for Daddy. And for the first time, she went to bed without complaining about the loss of Monty. I had a hopeful feeling in my heart. Perhaps she was beginning to settle down.
A little later, I poured myself a glass of wine and found an old film to watch on TV. Since we’d been at Mum’s, and although I did enjoy her company, I quite liked the occasional evening on my own when she was out with her ‘girlfriends’. It had been strange, getting used to being two women in the same house, both using the kitchen and sometimes getting in each other’s way. After all, we’d both been used to being in charge of our own homes. It sometimes felt awkward, being in my mum’s house again now that I was an adult, and having to adapt to her routines. And I was well aware that, despite her insistence that she loved having Mia and me there to look after, Mum must sometimes find the chaos in her previously peaceful and tidy house a bit trying. It was good for her to be out with her friends.
Tonight she’d spent longer than usual making herself up, trying on various outfits and asking me if her hair looked OK. At fifty-nine, Mum was still undeniably attractive, but I secretly thought she looked nicer when she dressed in her everyday clothes. On these nights out, it seemed to me that she was competing with her friends – all of a similar age – to see who could look the youngest, wear the shortest skirt or the lowest neckline.
‘Is this a special occasion?’ I asked, trying to be tactful, as I watched her putting on long, high-heeled boots and more lipstick than usual.
She looked back at me and winked. ‘Well, you never know: it might be.’
And she gave a suggestive little giggle, making me recoil, my eyes wide with surprise. Was my mother actually going out on the pull? I remembered Gran’s comment about boyfriends. Was this what Mum and her friends did on their nights out – flirt and chat up the men? Perhaps I was naïve, but it had never occurred to me that Mum might want to find herself a new partner. Her marriage to my dad had ended acrimoniously when I was quite young, and she’d spent most of the years when I was growing up complaining about him and about men in general, giving me the impression that she wouldn’t care if she never had to speak to another male member of the human race for the rest of her life, never mind become intimately involved with one.
Even if I’d wanted to ask her more, which, to be honest, I didn’t – who wants to hear about their mother’s sex life or even believe such a thing exists? – there wasn’t any opportunity that evening, because one of her friends called for her at that moment and they set off, giggling together in a way that made me feel even more uncomfortable, to pick up the other friend and head off to the bright lights of Plymouth. At least I knew they took it in turns to drive and Mum told me all of them were very responsible about not drinking when they were the designated driver. It would have come to something if I’d had to lecture my own mother about drink-driving!
‘But what if she brings a boyfriend home?’ Amber said when I told her all this on the Sunday morning. Mia and I had left Mum to sleep off her late night, and had come to meet up with the dog walkers again at the park. Mia had run a little way ahead of me with the puppy on his lead, giving us a chance to chat without little ears flapping with curiosity. ‘I mean – what if they stay overnight?’
‘Oh, God!’ I groaned. Memories of my younger years – of creeping quietly up to my bedroom in Eagle House with Josh, both of us trying to avoid the creaky stairs, and smothering giggles – came flooding back to me. Was I really going to be faced with an ironic role reversal, pretending not to hear my mum sneaking men into the house? ‘Surely she wouldn’t do that? While I’m there? While Mia’s there? How could I explain that to Mia – suddenly finding a strange man making toast in the morning?’
‘No. You’re right,’ Amber said at once. ‘She wouldn’t, would she? Of course not. But … on the other hand,’ she added with a grin, ‘what about the weekends when Mia’s with Josh?’
‘Oh my God,’ I groaned again. ‘The sooner we move out, the better.’
‘You’ve only just moved in!’
‘I know. And I’ve no idea how I’m going to afford a place of my own, even after the divorce, and after the house has been sold.’ I sighed. Saying this out loud suddenly made the whole thing – divorce, house sale – sound so serious and final. It was what I wanted, I reminded myself, what I’d decided was the only way forward. But that didn’t make it any less sad.
Amber put an arm round my shoulders. ‘It’ll be OK,’ she said gently. ‘You’ll see, it’ll work out, somehow. Things always do.’
‘Do they?’ I said. I watched Mia, skipping along in front of me with Smartie, chatting to Craig about how clever she thought Judy was. Was she happy? Would everything work out OK for her – for us both – back here in Furzewell? I hoped Amber was right, but at the moment I felt like the jury was definitely still out.
CHAPTER 7
During the following week, I met up with t
he dog walkers every day for their early evening walk. As it was now the school Easter holiday and she didn’t need to be in bed until a bit later, Mia normally came with me. Smartie already seemed to be enjoying the company of the other dogs and we were gradually taking him further before turning back, so that we could get him used to longer walks. The weather had finally started to improve, too, and we’d had a couple of days that week that were really warm. I’d forgotten how suddenly the countryside sprang into life during a spell of good weather at this time of year. Hedgerows looked fuller and greener. The grass in the park, and in cottage gardens, had started to grow faster, and was sprinkled with daisies. Footpaths were becoming less muddy, the country lanes were full of the rustle and scurry of birds foraging for insects, and everywhere seemed to smell of spring.
‘I think winter’s finally over, thank God,’ Simon remarked as we set off across the park on Good Friday, and I smiled and said yes, I hoped so.
Simon, who was the oldest member of our little group, in his fifties, was a big, likeable bear of a man. He seemed to be popular with all the others, as he was a good conversationalist who had a cheerful smile and a hearty laugh, but was also a sympathetic listener, as I soon discovered when he asked politely what had brought me back to live in the village. Encouraged by his attentiveness and put at ease by his kind nature, I poured out the story of my marriage breakdown, Mia’s difficulties adjusting to the new school, and my worries about the future. He listened quietly, nodding and giving me sympathetic looks of understanding. His dog Max, a big soppy black cross-breed with an affectionate nature and bright intelligent eyes, seemed perfectly suited to Simon.
‘He was my wife’s dog really,’ he said, waving aside my sympathy when he explained that Jane had died suddenly of a heart condition and that their only son lived abroad. ‘Max was devoted to her. But he seems to have accepted me happily enough as a replacement. And he’s been a life saver for me. He’s such good company. But then, you’d understand that, wouldn’t you.’ He nodded at Smartie, who was gambolling playfully between my feet and Mia’s. ‘Four legs and waggy tails make the best companions.’
The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers Page 5