The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers

by Sheila Norton

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, laughing some more. ‘He’s not my type.’

  ‘Well, he’s obviously Sara’s type. He’s a bit young for her, though, isn’t he? And from what you’ve said, not exactly the settling-down sort.’

  ‘Maybe she just wants to have some fun, Nic,’ Amber said, with a shrug. ‘I guess that’s fairly normal after you’ve been through a break-up—’ she tailed off, giving me a sympathetic glance. ‘Well, it’s too soon for you, of course, I get that.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ I said with feeling. ‘And I’m sorry for going on like that about Sara. She just gets under my skin sometimes, that’s all.’

  ‘I know what you mean. But while she’s spending all her time fluttering her eyelashes at Craig, she’s leaving us alone. Ignore her.’

  Amber was right, of course. She always was the sensible, nice-natured girl, even back at school. And anyway, it had to be said, Sara had made a good job of producing our poster. It had appeared on the parish council notice board a few days previously, outside the village hall, and we were now waiting to see if there would be any response. With everything that was going on with Mia, I hadn’t given it too much thought, but it would definitely be interesting to try to get to the bottom of the missing cat mystery. Whatever the reason, I had to admit it did seem too much of a coincidence that so many cats had disappeared recently.

  CHAPTER 10

  One evening a few days later, I’d waited at the park gates for several minutes, Smartie becoming restless on his lead beside me, before deciding that nobody else was coming for the dog walk on this occasion.

  ‘Come on, Smartie. Looks like just you and me tonight,’ I said, starting off into the park. He trotted along happily beside me, stopping occasionally to sniff the air, skipping a little way in front and then looking back to wait for me, his tail wagging happily. Suddenly he gave a little bark of excitement, and I was almost knocked over from behind by Simon’s dog Max, who’d bounded up the path after us, Simon running behind to catch him up.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I saw you and Smartie from the gates – I’m a bit late tonight – and I was just about to call you but Max spotted Smartie first!’

  I laughed. ‘Glad you could make it. I thought I was on my own. Nobody else has turned up.’

  ‘Happens sometimes. All busy with other things, I suppose. Anyway, it’s nice to chat to you on your own for a change.’ He gave me a smile. ‘How are you? Settling down back here now?’

  ‘Well, yes, it’s easy enough for me, really. It was just like coming home.’ I sighed. ‘It’s Mia I’m worried about.’ Encouraged by his usual sympathetic expression, I told him briefly about her problems at school, and her regression into babyish behaviour. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t worry: her teacher says it will sort itself out in time. But—’

  ‘But of course you’re worried. You’re her mum,’ he said gently, and I smiled at him gratefully.

  ‘I feel so guilty for disrupting her life like this,’ I said. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have left—’

  ‘Stop it. You shouldn’t think like that. If your marriage wasn’t happy, that would have been having an effect on Mia, whatever you think. And how long would you have been prepared to put up with it? Until she started senior school? Until she was a teenager? I doubt there’s ever a good time, Nic. Better to make the break before things just got worse and worse, surely – and everybody’s life got more miserable?’

  ‘That’s what I thought, at the time.’

  ‘And it’s not all about Mia is it? You deserve to be happy too.’

  I felt tears come to my eyes and couldn’t respond. It was a comfort to be able to confide in someone so kind and understanding, but no matter what he said, I knew that as a mother, I should have put Mia’s happiness before my own. Mine shouldn’t matter – I couldn’t be happy anyway, if Mia wasn’t. I already felt like a failure because I hadn’t realised quite how badly the move was affecting her schoolwork.

  ‘Oh dear, I always seem to have that effect on women,’ Simon joked lightly, noticing me wiping my eyes. ‘Sorry. Shall we change the subject?’

  ‘Yes.’ I tried to smile again. ‘I feel like you always end up listening to my problems. Let’s talk about you instead. You’re not from round here, are you?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head and stared ahead of us across the park as we did the usual circuit of the disused paddling pool. ‘Jane and I lived in Dorset. I needed to make a big change after she died: everything around there reminded me too much of her. Not that I wanted to forget her,’ he added quickly. ‘I brought the memories of her, of course, but I knew I’d never be able to move on if I stayed there.’

  ‘How long has it been, now?’ I asked, looking at him with concerned affection. He was such a nice man, it seemed cruel that he’d been left on his own like this.

  ‘Oh, long enough: nine years now. She was only forty; it was such a shock when she died. We’d been planning a big holiday to celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary, but we never even reached it.’ He shrugged and smiled now. ‘We were one of those couples who married stupidly young.’

  ‘Us too. But in our case, it actually was stupid.’

  He laughed, and to my surprise, grabbed my free hand with his and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Nic, and so will Mia, I’m sure of it. Don’t be sad. Life can still be good, even after sad things happen. I should know.’

  He gave my hand another little squeeze before letting it go, putting on a spurt and hollering for Max, who’d run into the bushes and was barking at something – probably a squirrel or some pigeons. I followed him with Smartie, my hand feeling warm where he’d held it so briefly, wondering what it meant – and then quickly rebuking myself for thinking it meant anything at all other than caring, friendly concern. And reminding myself of how lucky I was to have made these new friends, particularly this one, who, more than all the others, seemed so kind and wise.

  That Saturday was April the twenty-eighth, Mia’s sixth birthday. It happened to be her weekend for being with Josh, but he had been quite reasonable about it. We’d agreed that she could stay with me for the Saturday, in case she wanted to have a little party with her new friends from school, and Josh would just have her on the Sunday. As it happened, she was quite insistent that she didn’t want a party, didn’t want any friends home for tea and in fact she now denied having any friends at all at the school. Of course, this just added to all my concerns about her.

  ‘What about the two Olivias?’ I prompted her. ‘I thought you liked them.’

  ‘They only like each other,’ she said, pouting. ‘They don’t like me.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ I said gently, but she refused to discuss it any further. Feeling even more like a terrible mother who’d ruined her child’s life, I made a mental note to ask Mr Gregory about this next time I spoke to him, but I didn’t want to make an issue about it right now. Mum had offered to take the morning off work, and if Mia would be happier celebrating her birthday with just me, Mum and Gran – and Smartie of course! – that was what we’d do.

  The night before, after she’d gone to bed, Mum and I put up some balloons, and piled up her presents on the kitchen table ready for the morning. I was almost as excited as Mia. I’d promised her a special treat: with Josh’s challenge about the seaside still burning in my mind, I’d decided we would drive down to Bigbury-on-Sea, taking a picnic lunch with us, including the chocolate birthday cake I’d bought. To show I was being reasonable too, I’d suggested we could drop Mia off with Josh on the way home in the evening, ready for his Sunday with her. Mia seemed happy with this plan too, her only gripe being that it would have been even nicer if Daddy had come with us to the beach.

  ‘He can’t,’ I said. ‘He’s working.’ I didn’t feel bad about saying it. After all, it was the excuse he’d usually used himself, before the split, for not spending any time with Mia. Or me.

  On the day, Mia was awake as soon as the cockerel utte
red his first half-hearted crow, and she was in my room, jumping on my bed, before I’d even opened my eyes.

  ‘Happy birthday, darling,’ I muttered, putting my arms around her. ‘Six years old today!’

  I sighed. It seemed like only yesterday that she was a newborn baby. Where had the time gone?

  ‘Can we get up now, Mummy?’ Her voice was high with excitement. ‘I want to start my birthday!’

  As soon as she saw the presents piled up on the table, Mia’s eyes widened and she did a little dance on the spot.

  ‘Are they all for me? Can I open one?’

  ‘You can open them all, sweetie. Which one first?’

  Within five minutes they were all unwrapped, paper and ribbon strewn around the room. I’d strained the balance on my credit card to buy her the battery-operated walking, meowing, purring toy cat she’d been pleading for, ever since we found out about Monty going missing. Despite the fact that we now had Smartie, and despite me warning her that it was a toy intended for younger children and she’d soon get bored with it, her longing for it had remained unchanged and I’d reasoned it was a small thing to make her happy. She was already on the floor with it, giggling as it ran around, meowing, and Smartie followed it at a trot, his tail wagging, sniffing it and jumping back with surprise when it moved again.

  Mum had bought her a new dress – purple with pink hearts – and two pairs of pyjamas and a dressing gown, all of which she’d needed desperately since she’d grown another inch taller. A couple of smaller presents had arrived in the post – a colouring book and pens from Polly, and a sticker book from Jamila. I was touched that their mums had remembered the date; I’d have to get back in touch with them and thank them. But it was Gran’s present that surprised us all the most. It was a huge box of garden games, including child-size golf clubs with bright-coloured balls and plastic ramps for designing a crazy golf course, a skipping rope, a hoopla set with four rings and a football with the kit to construct two goals.

  ‘Looks like we’re all going to be keeping fit this summer!’ Mum laughed.

  ‘It’s a great idea. There’s so much space outside, it’ll be lovely to have some games to play.’

  I was touched by Gran’s thoughtfulness, and wondered how on earth she’d managed to get such a big present home from town by herself. She didn’t drive, and normally relied on Mum to take her into Plymouth for anything she couldn’t buy from the village shops – but the present had been a complete surprise to Mum as well as to me.

  ‘Ordered it on Amazon, of course,’ she responded when I asked her about it a little later, when we picked her up for the day trip to Bigbury. ‘Don’t look so surprised. How else do you think I manage anything these days?’

  I gave her a hug. It was always a mistake to underestimate my gran!

  The sun came out as we headed through the country lanes towards the main road, Mia singing happy little songs about the seaside to Mum and Smartie in the back seat as I chatted quietly with Gran in the front. Mum had found an old bucket and spade in the shed, which, although Mia had looked at them somewhat critically and declared them not really as nice as the new ones from Daddy, had been accepted as a good substitute – possibly because the bucket was her favourite shade of purple – and she was clutching these excitedly on her lap in anticipation of sandcastle building.

  ‘Are you sure dogs are allowed on the beach?’ Mum said.

  ‘Yes, I checked. But we’d better keep him on his lead. I’m not sure what he’s going to make of the sand, or the sea.’

  We hadn’t been to Bigbury since the previous summer and I’d almost forgotten how lovely it was here. It was still early in the season, so there was only a scattering of people on the beach. It was breezy, but sunny, and the sea looked beautiful.

  We all got out of the car, breathing in the sea air, laughing at little Smartie’s nose twitching. I took Gran’s arm, despite her protest that she was perfectly fine, as we made our way slowly across the fine golden sand to a nicely sheltered spot. Mum was carrying a fold-up chair for Gran and a blanket for the rest of us; I held the picnic basket, and had some towels flung over my arm. Within two minutes Mia was out of her new dress and into her swimming costume.

  ‘The sea’s going to be absolutely freezing, Mia,’ Mum warned her. ‘It might be sunny but it’s still only April.’

  ‘Don’t worry, she’ll only paddle, but at least she won’t get her clothes wet. Come on, Mia, I’ll race you down to the sea,’ I said, rolling up the legs of my jeans.

  I ran down to the water’s edge, taking Smartie with me, Mia racing ahead of us. She was soon jumping over the shallow waves, squealing with excitement, splashing me thoroughly and making us both giggle as Smartie jumped back, yelping with surprise.

  The day passed happily. Relaxing there on the beach in the sunshine, I felt my worries and anxieties slip into the back of my mind for the first time in months. At midday we ate our sandwiches and enjoyed the look of surprise on Mia’s face when I opened the tin containing the chocolate cake – complete with six candles. I’d even remembered matches, but the difficulty of lighting the candles in the breeze off the sea gave us plenty of laughs, until Mum hit on the idea of holding up the big beach towel to shelter us, just long enough for all six candles to be alight so that Mia could blow them out. As we sang ‘Happy Birthday’, Mia was overcome with shy delight to realise other families nearby on the beach were joining in, finishing off with a round of cheers and clapping for the birthday girl.

  When we’d had enough of the beach, we left Gran sitting contentedly on a bench overlooking the sea while the rest of us took Smartie for a brisk walk along the coast and back. Finally we rounded the day off with fish and chips.

  ‘It’s been my best birthday ever,’ Mia proclaimed as we all climbed back into the car later in the afternoon.

  Mum and I exchanged glances. Her best birthday ever? Had she, for a moment, actually forgotten that Daddy hadn’t been with us and that everything had changed, in ways she still hadn’t really been able to accept? It was good that she’d enjoyed her day so much, and perhaps – like me – she’d simply been able to put all the other stuff out of her mind for a while. She rubbed her eyes with tiredness as I strapped her into her car seat.

  ‘Where’s Pink Bunny?’ she asked sleepily, her thumb going into her mouth.

  I looked along the back seat. On the floor of the car. Checked the boot, the picnic basket, under the blanket, even under the car.

  ‘Mum,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m just going back to the beach for a minute.’

  Mum nodded at me, understanding at once, and kept Mia chatting while I ran, looking frantically in every direction, out of the car park, down the slope, back to our spot on the beach. No Pink Bunny. I stared up at the road. It would take me at least half an hour to retrace our earlier walk – but then I remembered telling Mia, when we took the picnic basket and beach things back to the car, to leave Pink Bunny there rather than carrying him with us on the walk. He might get lost, I said. He’ll be safe here in the car, waiting for you. She hadn’t been carrying him with her on the walk.

  I rushed back to the car, checking again in all directions as I went. He must be in the car! I got everyone out, searched under all the seats again, emptied the boot, turned the bags upside down. By now Mia was crying, of course. She’d had Pink Bunny since she was a baby, and had always taken him everywhere with her. She’d started to grow out of the obsession slightly during the last year or so – until the move, the separation, everything that had happened to disrupt her little life recently. Since then, she’d become completely dependent on him again. She wouldn’t be able to sleep without him. I couldn’t imagine how she was going to cope. But it was no good. I’d looked everywhere. We even drove slowly along the route we’d taken for our walk, checking, although I knew she hadn’t taken it with her. Pink Bunny had vanished, and the best birthday ever looked like ending up as a disaster. If I’d felt like a bad mother before, right now I felt like the worst one in
the world.

  Part 2

  * * *

  PAWS OFF OUR PARK

  CHAPTER 11

  It was strange being back at the old house for the first time since I’d left, over two months before. And it was even weirder being castigated by Josh, of all people, for my careless parenting – even if I did think I deserved it.

  ‘How the hell did you manage to lose it?’ he hissed at me when Mia, who’d tired herself out even more by crying about Pink Bunny all the way back to Plymouth, had gone into the lounge and collapsed miserably on the sofa. I’d stayed by the front door, out of her earshot, to tell Josh about the missing toy. ‘Didn’t you go back and look for it?’

  ‘Of course I bloody well did!’ I retorted, exasperated.

  ‘Well, it’s nice of you to bring her over to me so upset, I must say,’ he went on sarcastically. ‘Especially on her birthday, poor kid.’

  ‘Poor kid? She’s had a fantastic day – ask her! She said it was her best birthday ever.’ I was aware I was sounding childish again, trying to score points. Was this what we were reduced to now? I sighed. ‘Look, it’s no use us arguing about it. She’s exhausted, she’ll fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow, bunny or no bunny.’

  ‘Hopefully.’ He was still frowning at me. ‘You never know, it might even get her out of the habit. I thought she’d grown out of it already – it’s so babyish. Why did you let her get so dependent on it again?’

  ‘I didn’t let her, it just happened,’ I said wearily. I’d had enough of this. Mum and Gran were waiting in the car with Smartie, and I just wanted to go home. ‘I’m sure Mia will be fine without Pink Bunny. She’s just tired.’