‘They do,’ I agreed. ‘And I’m hoping and praying Smartie turns things around for Mia. She seems a bit more settled since we’ve had him.’
In fact, although Smartie had made a big difference, I suspected Mia was only happier because it was the school holiday. School, for now, was a taboo subject. I’d expected her to have some homework to do – a little holiday project of some sort, or at least a couple of new books to read, but the same two relatively easy-reading books she’d brought home over a week ago were still in her bag.
‘No spellings to learn?’ I asked her – as I’d done every week since she’d started at the school, but she just shook her head, and the usual search of her school bag produced nothing other than her reading record book, where my counterpart in her class had written encouraging comments about her reading.
I guessed her teacher had, in view of her anxiety about the new school, decided to go easy with her schoolwork for the first half term. I made up my mind to have a chat with him after the holiday, though, as I knew it was important to back up the school lessons with help at home.
I’d already asked Mia if she’d like any of her new friends – who seemed limited at the moment to the two Olivias – to come and play at Eagle House during the holiday, but she’d insisted she only wanted her friends from the old school. So I’d arranged for Polly and Jamila to come one day the following week. In the meantime, she had her prearranged long weekend with Josh to look forward to. I remembered how, to my complete astonishment, he’d announced in a phone call a few days earlier that he was taking her away.
‘Away?’ I’d said. ‘Where to?’
‘Only down to Torquay. I’d like to take her further afield, but that’ll have to wait for when I have her for my two weeks in the summer. But I’ve booked a place near the beach, and if it rains we can go to the caves and the Dinosaur World place, or Paignton Zoo.’
‘But…’ I struggled to speak, too shocked to get my words out properly. ‘But you’ve never wanted to go anywhere! All these years, whenever I suggested we had a few days away—’
‘Yes, well, things seem to be different now, don’t they,’ was all he said in response. It wasn’t just that I resented him – too late – spoiling Mia with all these treats and outings. It was also, much as I hated to admit it, that I felt kind of left out. Left sitting at home like Cinderella while Josh and Mia had happy days out and seaside breaks together. I knew it had been my decision to separate, but as far as I was concerned we’d reached the stage where it was pointless staying together any longer, because Josh quite simply seemed to have no feelings left either for me or, as it had seemed at times, for Mia. So for him, now, to want to spend time with her and spoil her so much was doubly hurtful. At the same time, I felt really silly and cross with myself. How could I be jealous of my own child? And was I just jealous because of all the fun she was having, or because it was Josh who was showering her with affection and special treats? My mixed-up emotions were making me feel tired and miserable. But what could I say? Mia was so excited about the proposed trip, I couldn’t let her see how miffed I felt. Remembering Mum’s advice, I made up my mind to keep myself busy and refrain from saying anything detrimental. I packed Mia’s bag that evening when we got home from our walk, and Josh picked her up early on the Saturday morning.
‘Have a lovely time, sweetheart,’ I said, hugging her tight. ‘See you in a couple of days.’
‘I’ll bring her back after tea on Monday,’ Josh said, without looking at me. And he shepherded Mia – who was chatting so excitedly about the beach and the sea, she didn’t even say goodbye to Smartie – out to his car without another word.
Three whole days without my baby girl. It was going to feel like a lifetime.
‘No good having that long face, it won’t make the time go any sooner,’ Gran told me firmly. She’d come round early the next morning to bring an Easter egg for Mia, having forgotten that she was away for the whole weekend with Josh, and had found me moping as I sorted the washing. ‘It’s good you’ve got your new friends, anyway,’ she added more gently. ‘Just enjoy having the weekend to do whatever you want.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can have an evening out with Amber without having to ask Mum to babysit. Especially as she likes to have evenings out herself.’
‘Yes, with those so-called friends of hers,’ Gran said, raising her eyebrows.
‘So-called?’ I looked at her in surprise. ‘Don’t you like them?’
‘Oh, they’re all right, I suppose – what’s their names? Angie and Sue, isn’t it? They dress like they’re still in their teens – make themselves look proper daft. The Gruesome Twosome, I call them.’
‘Oh, Gran! That’s awful!’ I laughed. ‘Anyway, Mum’s just as bad.’
‘Yes. Your mum’s always been like that – following the crowd. Even when she was a girl. I used to tell her: Ros, you don’t always have to do what your friends do. Try and be your own person. But she never learned.’
‘You told me she’s had a few boyfriends,’ I said cautiously. ‘Is there anyone at the moment? I don’t like to ask her. She gets all giggly and weird – it freaks me out.’
‘Not as far as I know,’ Gran said with a shrug. ‘I think the three of them just go around together. I don’t think they’re really as interested in men as they make out.’
Sara and Craig were already waiting at the park gate when I arrived a bit later, their dogs panting with enthusiasm to get started on the walk, and within a few minutes Simon and Amber joined us and we all set off. Sara, walking nearest to me, suddenly turned to me and said:
‘Nic, did you ever find your poor cat?’
‘Oh, he wasn’t my cat, he was my mum’s, but no – he’s still missing.’
‘Such a shame, poor thing,’ she cooed.
‘Yes. Somehow I don’t think we’ll find him now.’
‘Well, it might just be a coincidence,’ she went on, ‘but I was talking to Craig about it just now while we were waiting for you—’ she turned to give Craig a smile and took the opportunity to flutter her eyelashes at him in such a suggestive way that his eyebrows nearly hit the top of his head, ‘—and guess what? His next-door neighbour’s cat’s gone missing too.’
‘Yes, well, cats do—’ I began, but Craig nodded and picked up the story:
‘My neighbour’s been frantic. Her cat’s a pedigree of some sort and she’s contacted pretty much every police station, vet and animal charity in Devon, trying to find him. Not only that, she says a friend of hers who lives in one of the Houses on the Green has lost her cat too. Seems they’ve all gone during the last few months.’
‘That’s very odd,’ Simon said, looking back at us. ‘I called at one of the new houses up at the High Meadow estate last week, to quote the owners for sorting out their garden, and they were saying the same thing. Their cat went missing soon after they moved in. They’d tried to keep her in for the first couple of weeks, like you’re supposed to, but she made a dash for it when they opened the door and they haven’t seen her since. They just assumed the poor cat didn’t know her way around the area yet, but then they got talking to someone else in the village shop whose cat had disappeared too.’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘It’s beginning to sound like more than a coincidence, isn’t it?’
‘Well, cats do wander off,’ I said again, reluctant to believe it was anything more sinister, but Sara shook her head.
‘Not as many as this, in such a short time, Nic. And you do read some awful stories in the papers, don’t you. Cats being poisoned and all sorts. There are some nasty people around. People who don’t like cats.’
I shook my head, uncomfortable with the idea.
‘Maybe we should do something?’ Craig said.
‘Like what?’ I sighed. ‘I’ve already put up notices about Monty on lamp-posts and so on. And it sounds like your neighbour has tried everything.’
‘Well, maybe all the people who’ve lost a cat could get together and compare notes,
’ Simon suggested quietly. ‘I’m not saying it has to be anything more than a coincidence,’ he added, giving me a sympathetic look. ‘But, well, perhaps if there were to be a bit in the local paper about it—’
‘Yes, that’s definitely worth doing,’ Sara agreed. ‘Actually, I know the editor of the South Devon Recorder personally.’ She made it sound like being on first-name terms with the prime minister. ‘Robert and I were at Oxford together. He’s actually a millionaire, you know, he owns a chain of hotels here in the West Country, but he still likes to edit the local paper; he says it gives him an interest. I’m sure he’d give me a front-page slot if I asked him nicely.’
I felt an instinctive dislike for Mr Millionaire hobby-editor. Just the sort of person who Snooty Sara would suck up to, I thought, trying not to scowl.
‘Well, what do you all think?’ Simon asked. We’d stopped at the far side of the park, where hardly anyone else seemed to venture, to let the dogs have a run. He looked around the group. ‘We could put up a poster on the notice board outside the village hall, asking anyone who’s lost a cat recently to get in touch? Find out exactly how many have gone missing? And go from there?’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,’ I said with a shrug. ‘If there are a lot, we could have a meeting and see if they all want to do the newspaper thing. The Recorder’s online too – that might be more worthwhile than the actual paper. Nobody reads them now, do they?’
‘Oh, round here they do, trust me,’ Sara said, laughing. ‘They’re a very traditional bunch in Furzewell, remember? I bet half of the residents aren’t even online.’
‘Only because the internet connection’s so bad,’ Simon said mildly.
We called the dogs and moved on, and the conversation turned to other things. After a while, though, Sara tore herself away from Craig for a moment and walked next to me again, nodding in Amber’s direction as she said, quietly:
‘Did you notice how one member of our group stayed out of the cat conversation completely?’
I shrugged. ‘Amber probably wasn’t that interested. She doesn’t really like cats.’
‘Oh. Right.’
I looked at her sharply, wondering about the tone of her voice.
‘Not everyone is a cat lover,’ I pointed out.
‘No, OK, fair enough. I just would’ve thought she’d be more supportive.’
‘She is! I mean, she was, when I first told her about Monty. She just prefers dogs herself, and she probably didn’t have anything to add to what we were saying earlier.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ Sara nodded thoughtfully.
Something about the conversation niggled at me. But that was typical of Sara – making irritating, oblique comments and then just leaving you hanging, wondering what she was on about. I tried to shrug it off, and went to walk with Amber for the rest of the way. Sara had got on my nerves enough for one day, with her name-dropping about her millionaire newspaper editor friend. To say nothing of her oh-so-obvious flirting with Craig, which was making me cringe. She was walking close beside him now, nudging him and giggling.
It hadn’t taken me long to realise Craig was the joker of the group – he liked a laugh, and normally had us all laughing along with him. But with Sara monopolising him like this, it was impossible for the rest of us to join in with the banter. We were having to leave them to it, and start our own conversations while we listened to them laughing together. It felt awkward and uncomfortable. I might have been the newbie in the group, but I already found myself wishing she’d stop it.
CHAPTER 8
As promised, Josh brought Mia back in time for bed on Easter Monday. She’d fallen asleep in the car on the journey back and was tired and fractious. I sat with her on the sofa, cuddling up, wanting to hear all about her weekend, but she complained that her tummy hurt.
I felt her forehead. She wasn’t hot, but looked a little pale.
‘Do you feel sick?’ I asked her, hoping she wasn’t coming down with a bug.
‘No.’ She lay back against the cushions, looking like she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
‘I’ll just get you a nice warm drink then, and you can go straight to bed.’
‘I don’t want a drink, Mummy. My tummy’s too full up. We had burger and chips for tea, and ice cream. And Daddy bought me a huge Easter egg and I ate it all up.’
No wonder she had a tummy ache, I thought crossly. She eventually fell back to sleep in my arms, clutching Pink Bunny, her thumb in her mouth, and I half-carried her up to bed and tucked her in, wishing crossly that Josh would realise it wasn’t good for her to feed her junk food, on top of tiring her out so much.
The next morning she’d recovered, though, and couldn’t wait to tell me all about her little holiday. The beach was amazing, the caves were also amazing and, best of all, there had been a fair on, on the seafront, and the rides were even more amazing.
‘Daddy let me go on loads of rides, and he let me stay up really late. Why don’t you let me stay up late?’ she enthused. ‘Why don’t we hardly ever have burger and chips?’
I had to swallow back my irritation and resist, with difficulty, the temptation to criticise Josh.
‘Those sort of things are OK for occasional treats,’ I explained. ‘They wouldn’t be treats if you could do them all the time.’
Daddy had also, apparently, let her choose whatever she wanted from the gift shop at the caves. Luckily for him she’d only picked a cheap-looking purple plastic dinosaur. And Daddy had bought her a new bucket and spade, but he was keeping it at his house because there was no seaside here in Furzewell. (This last comment was added with a tut and a sigh.)
‘But there’s no seaside where Daddy lives, either,’ I pointed out.
‘I know. But he’s going to take me to another seaside soon. The really nice one we used to go to before,’ she added.
‘Bigbury-on-Sea. I can still take you there, you don’t have to wait for Daddy,’ I said, aware that I was sounding petulant and childish.
‘Daddy says it’s miles and miles from here, and it’s too far for you, and you won’t want to bother.’
‘No it’s not, and I will want to,’ I said, and then stopped, aware that I really shouldn’t rise to Josh’s bait. ‘I know how much you liked it there,’ I added more quietly.
Mia shrugged. ‘I liked it then because Daddy came too,’ she said. I sighed. It was probably the only time Josh had ever come on a day out with us. No wonder she had such fond memories of it.
I knew it was childish of me but I didn’t see why Josh should now have all the fun parts of parenting while I just got the tears and the tantrums. Where had he been during so much of the previous six years? During the really hard parts – the night feeds, constant nappy changes, colic, sickness, night terrors, sticky fingers into everything, screaming fits for no apparent reason, food being thrown out of the highchair, cups of milk turned upside down, bumps and bruises during those first baby steps? Where was he then, eh? Hardly ever at home, that was for sure. Not around to share the responsibility, to help, to commiserate, to support me. And now he got to be Mister Perfect Father? He got to make me feel guilty because he didn’t see her often, so he could spoil her rotten and leave me to deal with the consequences? Well, he didn’t used to see her often when we were living together either, but that was his choice, not mine!
‘He’s doing it deliberately,’ Mum said, after I’d repeated all this to her when she came home from her shift at the shop. ‘Trying to wind you up. Don’t rise to it.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ I retorted, a bit too crossly.
‘I know. But I’ve been there myself, don’t forget.’
‘That was different, though. Dad never even bothered to keep in touch with me, never mind taking me on holidays and buying me treats!’
‘No, but I did have to bring you up on my own.’
‘I know.’ I sighed. I shouldn’t have snapped at her. She’d been through a worse situation than mine. I reached out and
took her hand sympathetically. ‘We were OK, though, weren’t we? We managed fine, just the two of us. You brought me up brilliantly and I never wanted for anything.’
Mum nodded and smiled at me. ‘In some ways perhaps it was easier, your father being out of the picture completely – at least I didn’t have to share you with him. I just pretended he didn’t exist, and you and I got on with our lives.’
Mum was right. We’d been particularly close back then, on our own.
‘You made it a happy childhood for me, despite Dad not being around,’ I said now. ‘I’m grateful for that, Mum. And I know it was really hard for you, after what happened. But in my case, how can I pretend Josh doesn’t exist? He’s still there, in our house. He’s seeing Mia, giving her a better time than I can afford to, even though he’s never done anything with her before.’
‘And that’s not helping her to settle here in Furzewell, is it,’ Mum sympathised.
‘No. But I can’t say anything, because Mia’s obviously loving all the treats, and suddenly getting some attention from her dad after all this time.’
And besides … I thought to myself miserably, he’s Josh! Josh, the boy I fell in love with when I was still at school. I was disappointed in him, resented him for how things had turned out, but I didn’t want to hate him, the way Mum hated Dad. I couldn’t pretend he didn’t exist. Despite everything, I missed … not him, exactly, as I’d got used to him not being around … but the way we used to be, back in those early days together. Like everyone, when I got married – here in the village church – I believed it would be forever. We’d moved to our little terraced house in a suburb of Plymouth soon after the wedding, glad to leave behind the furnished flat above the greengrocer’s shop here that we’d been renting together previously. It had been fun, exciting, filling our new house with second-hand furniture, cheap rugs, bits of crockery and utensils donated by our families. Playing house. I often looked back to those happy early days, wishing everything hadn’t changed so much over the years since Mia was born. Even so, I’d hoped we could manage this separation sensibly, like mature adults, and maybe – eventually – recover an amicable relationship. Maybe after a while he’d stop with the big showing-off gestures. He surely couldn’t afford to keep splashing out on Mia like this, any more than I could.
The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers Page 6