‘Well, maybe I’ll give Mia her birthday present now, instead of leaving it till tomorrow.’
‘No, Josh, she’s so tired I think it’s better to wait until the morning. We told her she was having two celebrations anyway.’
‘Yes, but now she needs cheering up after her day’s been spoilt like this.’
I glared at him. ‘Please don’t turn it into a blame game. Or let Mia hear you talking like this. She’s upset enough, she just needs us to stay calm and carry on as normal.’
‘Normal?’ he shot back. ‘And what exactly is normal now, Nic? Mia’s life was perfectly normal until you took it into your head to move out and turn everything upside down for her.’
‘It stopped being normal long before that! How normal was it for her father to never be around? How normal is it, come to that, for you to start spoiling her rotten now, every time you see her?’ I closed my eyes, annoyed with myself, as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t bring this up – but I’d been too angry to help it.
‘Oh, I see,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘So first I don’t spend enough time with her, and now I spoil her. I can’t win, can I, Nic?’
I shook my head. ‘Forget I said anything. I’m tired, and we’re both upset for Mia.’ I felt my eyes sting with tears for a moment. ‘She had a lovely day until the bunny went missing. I’m doing my best, Josh, whatever you think.’
‘So am I,’ he retorted. ‘Even if you think I’m spoiling her.’ I turned and walked away. I’d already kissed Mia goodbye and promised her a new Pink Bunny, even though I knew it could never be the same. I got in the car and started the engine, neither Mum nor Gran saying anything. They could probably see from my face that I really wasn’t in the mood to chat.
I was so upset with myself for ruining our nice day, but I was consoled by the thought that Mia had enjoyed it so much until the Lost Bunny situation. We dropped Gran home and by the time we’d unpacked the picnic things and sat down with a cup of tea, Mum and I were both so tired ourselves that we were almost falling asleep on the sofa.
The next day when Mia arrived back from her father’s, her eyes were shining with excitement again. His present to her had apparently been a brand-new purple bike. It was being kept at his house, for her visits there. I thought she might have been disappointed by this and I couldn’t help wondering if Josh wanted to keep the bike there so that Mia preferred being with him, to being at home with me. But she was so thrilled with the bike, I couldn’t be anything other than happy for her, especially as I couldn’t afford to buy her a new one myself. But I did feel sad, and a bit resentful, that he seemed determined to outdo me in every way, making it feel like the day out and all the treats we’d given Mia on the Saturday hadn’t even happened. He’d even managed to get in before me to buy her a new Pink Bunny – nothing like the original, of course – which she held defensively, saying it was nice. When I later found it discarded under her bed, I was just a tiny bit gratified that she wasn’t carrying it around everywhere with her. It didn’t stop her missing her old babyhood comfort toy, however, which she continued to ask for every night in much the same way she’d kept on about Monty the cat when we’d first arrived.
As always, my walks with Smartie and the other dog walkers took my mind off my worries and frustrations. And within a few days we were into May, making me feel that summer was just around the corner. It wasn’t, of course – the weather was still as changeable as it had been throughout April – but the blossom on the trees, the hedgerows filling out and blooming, buzzing with bees and chirruping little birds, together with the occasional days of blue sky and sunshine, were helping to give us a taste of it.
‘Somebody’s decided we’re having a heatwave already,’ Amber said on one of our evening walks that first week of May – nodding at the rather pleasant rear view of Craig, who was striding ahead of us in his shorts, Judy as always trotting alongside him, constantly attentive for his commands.
I laughed. ‘Yes, and somebody else can’t take her eyes off him!’
Sara might have been making it more obvious, but I had to admit I wasn’t immune to the sight either. OK, so I might have sworn off men for life, but there was no harm in looking, was there! And there was no denying Craig was worth looking at.
Smartie had bounded off in front of us, chasing something in the undergrowth, and after a minute or two I called him, to make sure he’d come trotting back. He was becoming more reliable now, the training classes paying off. Mia and I had been going together to the classes once a week after school, in a neighbouring village. I’d been enjoying these outings, for the time out with Mia, as much as for Smartie’s training. The fifteen-minute drive there and back gave us a rare opportunity to talk on our own. Mia seemed to feel more inclined to talk to me about her feelings while she was sitting on the back seat with Smartie, addressing the back of my head. Just the previous day, she’d suddenly burst out that she didn’t like being ‘naughty’ at school. Managing somehow to keep my voice calm and my eyes on the road, I’d done my best to assure her that she hadn’t ever been naughty at school – just upset and a bit scared – that everybody understood, and that she’d soon be doing just as well as she did at the old school. When we got out of the car I’d hugged her close as we walked Smartie to his class and as usual the training session cheered us both up.
So we felt confident enough now to be able to let him off his lead for a run in the park with Benji and the other dogs. Sara, who of course had been walking ahead of us with Craig, suddenly turned back, almost falling over Babette, and called out to me:
‘Craig and I were just comparing notes on the missing cats. Between us, we’ve had six responses now.’
‘Oh, and I had another one last night,’ I said. ‘So seven calls altogether now. That makes eight cats including Monty. And they’re all from Furzewell? And all disappeared recently?’
‘Within the last few months, yes.’ She glanced at Amber, who’d bent down to refasten Benji’s lead and didn’t appear to be listening. ‘It’s definitely not a coincidence, Nic. I suggest we get all the owners together for a meeting this weekend and move forward with contacting the Press. How’s Friday night for you?’
‘Fine, yes.’ I sighed. Eight cats missing, from such a small village. Sara was right, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Something was happening to them, or someone surely must know something about it. Well, if a story in the paper could help, then the sooner the better.
Once again we met in Smiths that Friday evening. We were a strangely mixed group: Sara, Craig, Amber and myself – Simon was held up in Cornwall where he’d been working – plus a selection of villagers whose cats were missing. As well as Craig’s neighbour – a very anxious and distressed lady who described her missing Devon rex cat as my little baby – and her friend from the Houses on the Green, we met the young couple from the new estate, whose garden Simon had agreed to landscape, an elderly lady who lived next-door to the school and a burly-looking youngish guy covered in tattoos who told us his kitten, Petal, had gone missing on her very first time outside. He’d presumed it had been his fault, that he’d let her out too soon, and was surprisingly and touchingly upset as he described how guilty he felt. We were just about to start the meeting when the last two people turned up – the vicar, Reverend Timms, who explained apologetically that he’d only realised one of his five cats was missing when he saw our poster and went home to have a count up (‘They’re in and out all the time, you know how it is, so I don’t know exactly how long he’s been gone’) – and old Tommy Burrows whose front garden I’d recently admired. His own ginger tom, he told us, had been gone since soon after Christmas and he’d presumed he’d never see him again, until he saw the poster.
I was glad Amber had turned up, despite her professed dislike of cats.
‘Well, I wanted to support you all,’ she said with a shrug. ‘But I will have to dash off early, I’m afraid. I’ve got work to finish.’
Sara stood up and called for silence so that she could take charge of the meeting.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ she said. ‘As I’m sure you realise, of course, we can’t promise anything. But I think you’ll all agree with us that this is really too much to be a coincidence.’
There was a murmur of agreement, and a stifled sob from the owner of the Devon rex.
‘What we’re suggesting,’ Sara went on, ‘is getting the local media on board with this. The editor of the South Devon Recorder happens to be a personal friend of mine.’ She paused, patting her hair, waiting for this supposedly impressive fact to sink in. ‘So if you all agree, I’m going to talk to him about getting a story in the paper. He’ll want to interview some of us, of course.’ She paused again. It seemed to have only just occurred to her that she wouldn’t need to be interviewed herself, not having a cat, never mind one that had gone missing. That must have been a disappointment! ‘I mean, interview some of you who have lost cats,’ she amended quickly. ‘If you’re happy to be interviewed, perhaps you’d like to confirm that now, so that the reporter will know who to get in touch with.’
Several hands were raised and Sara nodded at me.
‘Make a note of their names, Nic,’ she said.
Craig raised his eyebrows at me. Even he must have wondered who had suddenly made me Sara’s secretary. But I did as I was told. It was all for a good cause.
‘And of course,’ she went on, ‘photos of the missing cats would be very helpful. If you’re interviewed, please see if you can have a good clear photo available to go in the paper. In fact, ideally, we’d like one of each of the missing cats. We can then write a post for various local social media sites, with all their names, photos and dates of disappearance. Far more people view social media than read newspapers,’ she explained patiently, presumably for the benefit of the rest of us poor ignorant yokels who couldn’t be expected to keep up with the times. ‘Craig,’ she said, her tone of voice and facial expression suddenly softening as she turned to him, ‘I’ll leave the social media side of things to you.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, without a trace of sarcasm, but giving me another amused look. That quick smile, those raised eyebrows – they could be the undoing of a girl, if she hadn’t already sworn off men for life.
‘Now,’ Sara was concluding, ‘over to you, everyone. We’re open to any other practical suggestions, obviously.’
She sat down, and immediately there was bedlam – everyone calling out their ideas at once.
‘OK, shall we take one at a time?’ I suggested, getting a stare from Sara who must have thought I was taking over her chairing of the meeting. ‘Reverend Timms? Your thoughts?’
‘I hope we’re not forgetting the power of prayer in all this,’ he said, smiling around at us all benevolently.
‘It ain’t done much yet, Reverend,’ Petal the kitten’s multi-tattooed owner retorted.
‘Tha’ be right,’ Tommy Burrows agreed. ‘I done a fair ol’ bit of praying mesel’. For the love of God All-bliddy-mighty, Ginger, where ye be gone then? I been saying, but ’e bain’t come back yet, be ’e?’
There was smothered laughter, and the Reverend sat back in his chair, looking disappointed.
‘I reckon we should talk to someone on the radio,’ said the woman from the Houses on the Green. ‘You could do that, couldn’t you, what’s-your-name – Sara. You’ve got a posh voice. You could explain it all proper-like.’
‘Yes, thank you, that’s a good idea, I’ll look into that,’ Sara said, beaming. ‘Write that down, would you, Nic?’
And so it went on, with various people suggesting talking to the police, someone else saying we should knock on every door in Furzewell to ask the residents if they were cat lovers or not, and variations on the theme of more posters. And each time: Write that down, Nic. And Craig giving me that raised-eyebrow, slightly amused look – until eventually neither of us could keep a straight face any longer and both burst into giggles, unfortunately at the inappropriate moment of the Devon rex’s owner wiping her tears after suggesting we get all the vets in the area to check their records for recently deceased cats.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, hot with embarrassment and something else I couldn’t quite identify. ‘Craig and I both … just saw something … a bit funny … in my notes…’
The stern look of admonishment from Chairperson Sara was something neither of us would forget for quite a while. And after that, the meeting gradually broke up.
‘I think it was worthwhile, don’t you?’ I said to Sara as we left the café – trying to make up for my earlier faux-pas.
‘Definitely,’ she said, ‘I hope you’ve got all those points listed accurately, Nic. I’ll be needing them emailed across to me.’
I just about managed to stop myself from saluting and saying Aye-aye, Cap’n. I was glad Craig had already left, or we’d probably both have started giggling again! Although I was determined not to give any more thought at all to those funny little smiles of his, or that feeling that we’d been kind of together in our amusement at Sara’s bossiness. I was pretty sure no good could come from thinking too much about things like that.
CHAPTER 12
It was the early spring bank holiday that weekend, and as it wasn’t Josh’s turn to have Mia, I’d promised her a quiet, relaxing few days, taking Smartie for extra walks. She was still finding school challenging and tiring, but at least she was beginning to open up to me a bit about it. I really wanted her to have some breathing space without too much stuff going on.
‘We could play some of those garden games Granny Helen bought you for your birthday,’ I suggested. ‘That would be fun, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, brightening up. And then, to my surprise, added: ‘Can Eddie come and play the games too?’
‘Eddie?’ I queried.
‘You know. I told you about him. He’s the new boy in my class. He’s my friend now.’
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I was aware of a new boy who’d started after the Easter holiday, and although Mia had mentioned him once or twice, I’d had no inkling that she thought of him as a friend. I questioned her gently about him a little more now, and I got the impression they’d been drawn together because both of them had been new and felt lonely.
‘Of course he can come and play,’ I said, pleased with this development. I’d been disappointed that the two Olivias didn’t appear to have worked out as potential friends. I’d been trying to hide my anxiety, hoping that eventually Mia would make new friendships – and it seemed this one had been developing gradually without me really being aware. When I met Mia at the classroom door the next afternoon, I asked her to point out Eddie, and together Mia and I approached his mum to ask her if he could come round at the weekend. She seemed really grateful. She hadn’t met many people yet since moving into one of the new houses, and had been worried about Eddie settling in at school. Mia was more cheerful than usual on the way home, and I wondered if it was too much to hope for, that this might be a turning point.
When we woke up on the Saturday morning, the sun was shining.
‘Is Eddie coming round today?’ Mia asked.
‘No. Tomorrow afternoon. What would you like to do today?’
‘Can I go for a ride on my bike, and can you take off the stabilisers please, Mummy?’ she asked excitedly.
Apparently, the new purple bike at Daddy’s house was bigger than her old one, and had no stabilisers. Since we’d moved to Eagle House, she’d shown no interest in the old bike, which was languishing in the shed here. But the prospect of being able to ride the new one seemed to have changed all that. To be fair, I was pleased to see her so animated and excited. She watched while I took off the stabilisers, and after doing a few circuits of the garden, with me running after her, holding the back of the saddle whenever she wobbled, I suggested she could ride it to the park when we took Smartie out. There was a path around the park’s perimeter, so she could pedal alongs
ide us while I walked with the other dog walkers. The bike was small enough for her to manage well, despite being a stabiliser-free novice. But the first part of the walk was a bit of a challenge: holding onto Smartie’s lead with one hand, I had to run all the way down Pump Lane and along Fore Street to keep up with Mia, my other hand outstretched in case she overbalanced. Smartie seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, bounding along next to me, his tail and ears flapping up and down, woofing at Mia every now and then as if he was warning her to slow down. It was much easier once we were in the park, though, and I could let her cycle up and down the path in front of us, her balance and proficiency improving amazingly fast.
‘She’s practising for riding her new bigger bike. Birthday present from her dad,’ I told Simon when he commented on her excitement.
‘Oh, good, at least he’s doing his bit, then?’
‘Yes.’ I sighed, and he looked at me questioningly. ‘You’re right,’ I went on after a moment. ‘I’m glad he’s … buying her things, and taking her to places. I suppose I sound ungrateful, but, well, he never showed this kind of interest in her before. Or in me,’ I added quietly. ‘If I’m honest, I never thought this would last – all the presents and treats he’s been giving her. I thought he was just showing off, to get back at me. But it seems like he really does want to be there for Mia now, be a part of her life.’
‘So perhaps this separation has been a wake-up call?’ he suggested.
‘No.’ I sighed. ‘I’ve walked out before, twice actually. Both times it was only temporary, but I was hoping it would shake him a bit, make him sit up and take notice. It didn’t. Nothing changed. In fact, things just got worse. The thing is, Josh is married to his job. He works for an advertising agency. He always loved the work, but whereas when we were first married he talked to me about his projects – shared his enthusiasm with me – eventually the job completely took him over, like a drug, so that it was all he thought about, day and night. He was always either in the office or out with clients, and it didn’t even seem as if the enjoyment was there anymore – just the addiction. And Mia and I didn’t seem to matter. He was hardly ever home in the end. Not even Christmas day.’ I swallowed. ‘That was the most hurtful thing. How could he not want to spend Christmas with his daughter, even if he didn’t care about me? That was when I made up my mind – when I sat down to eat Christmas dinner with Mia on our own – that the marriage wasn’t worth trying to save anymore. That there wouldn’t be any going back this time.’
The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers Page 9