‘Daft old woman,’ Mum muttered to Gran, wiping her eyes, still laughing.
‘Silly old bat, yourself,’ Gran retorted, chuckling.
‘Honestly, you two!’ I smiled, relieved that we were back to normal. I looked round at Smartie again. Having ignored the rather confused signals he’d been getting from the two older humans who were now, bafflingly, both convulsed with laughter, he was sniffing around on the carpet, hoping to hoover up any remaining biscuit crumbs, while Mia sat on the floor with her arms around him protectively.
‘Poor Smartie,’ she said, giving us all an admonishing look. ‘He wasn’t being naughty.’
‘No. Sorry, Smartie,’ Mum admitted, reaching out to give him a stroke.
There was a silence, a more comfortable one this time. We took a biscuit each and had just begun to relax when Mia piped up curiously:
‘What’s dementia, Gran?’
‘I didn’t realise she was listening,’ Gran apologised later after, between us, we’d managed to give Mia a brief explanation that was neither fudging the truth nor too unnecessarily detailed, and Mia, seeming satisfied by our reassurance that none of us actually had it, had run off outside to play. ‘I thought she was doing her homework.’
‘A six-year-old can learn her spellings and earwig adult conversation at the same time,’ I reminded her ruefully. ‘We all should have realised that.’
Gran ended up staying for dinner and afterwards, with Smartie in tow, I walked back to Nightingale Court with her. Once inside the little bungalow, I helped her search for her own key, and eventually found it in the bathroom, on the shelf over the sink.
‘Oh, I remember what happened now,’ she said. ‘The other day, I met Marion Potter for a coffee in Smiths before I did my shopping. By the time I got home, I was in a hurry for the toilet, so I ran straight into the bathroom. I must have still had the key in my hand, put it up there, and then forgot all about it.’
‘Perfectly understandable,’ I said. ‘Now, look: there’s no way you’d have been able to remember that, and work out what happened, if you had dementia. Are we in agreement?’
‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, love. Sorry for causing all that fuss, getting your mum all agitated. What a nuisance I am to you both.’
I gave her a kiss. ‘You’re never a nuisance, Gran. And didn’t we all have a good laugh in the end? And Mia’s even learnt a new word!’
‘Yes.’ She gave another little chuckle now. ‘I just hope she doesn’t go into school talking about it tomorrow. Asking all her friends whether their grandparents have got dementia. Oh dear, it isn’t really funny, is it. Not a subject for laughter at all, really.’
‘No, not for the poor people who do have it. But we’re not being disrespectful to them, Gran. And you know what they say: laughter’s the best medicine.’
I was still smiling as I set off for my walk with Smartie. It helped me to forget the unease I’d felt, at the back of my mind earlier on, when I’d seen the fear in Gran’s eyes. I hoped to God, however forgetful she might become, that she’d never lose the sharpness of her wit, the clarity of her thoughts – everything that made her who she was. But I knew only too well, perhaps better than most, that life held no guarantees for any of us.
CHAPTER 20
The weather was still warm and fine, luckily, for Simon’s gardening weekend at the park. There were about twenty of us meeting in the car park beside the park entrance. Some had brought garden tools with them and Simon, who’d arrived with his assistant, Terry, in their van, unloaded two ride-on petrol lawnmowers, and an assortment of their heavy-duty industrial tools for serious digging and cutting back.
We were all assigned jobs, in pairs, according to our experience, strength and fitness. I was paired with Amber to do some hoeing of the flowerbeds, which were so full of weeds it was hard to discern which flowers were struggling to survive in their choked environment. Between us, Amber and I just about managed to agree on which were weeds and which weren’t – neither of us being particularly knowledgeable in horticulture – but Simon had reassured us that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if a few flowers were culled by mistake.
‘The beds have been neglected for so long, quite honestly they need to be dug up and replanted,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Not many of the flowers or shrubs look particularly happy or healthy. But until we have the funds to do it – or the council changes its mind and decides to fund the work themselves—’
‘And pigs take off and fly across the park,’ Amber put in, sarcastically.
‘Quite. Until then, this just has to be a tidy-up. So be ruthless, girls. Hoe away.’
We did. We hoed until our arms ached, we threw huge clumps of weeds (we hoped) into the wheelbarrow and barely stopped to draw breath, never mind talk. I’d never done much gardening. At our house in Plymouth the garden had been tiny, and mostly laid to lawn with a little patio where we simply had a few plants in pots. Since I’d been back at Eagle House I’d helped Mum with the garden, but the biggest job was keeping the grass cut. That Saturday, after she’d finished at the shop, Mum turned up unexpectedly at the park with Smartie.
‘I promised you I’d walk him this afternoon, didn’t I,’ she said. ‘So I thought we’d come and see how you’re getting on. Is that all you’ve done?’ she added teasingly.
‘Thank you!’ I straightened up, rubbing my back. ‘It’s hard work in this heat, you know.’
‘I know. And there’s so much to do.’ She looked around the park. Smartie, straining on his lead, was whimpering with excitement as he spotted all his favourite people – not just Amber and myself but Simon, away in the distance, riding one of the lawnmowers, Craig lopping dead branches off some sad-looking bushes near the disused pool, and Sara, dressed more casually than I’d ever seen her, walking around the perimeter, picking up litter and dropping it into a sack. ‘I’ll take Smartie for his walk, leave him back at home and come back to give you a hand,’ Mum said decisively. ‘At least I can tell a weed from a flower, which from the look of what’s in that wheelbarrow, neither of you have quite managed to work out.’
‘Simon said not to worry too much,’ I laughed.
‘OK, but it’d be nice if one or two of those poor astrantias were allowed to survive.’
She walked off, with Smartie trotting along excitedly beside her, and Amber and I looked at each other.
‘Those poor whats?’ she asked me.
‘Search me,’ I admitted. ‘It sounds like we’ll definitely benefit from Mum’s expertise.’
By the time Simon called a halt to the work at lunchtime on the Sunday, we were all exhausted, especially those of us unused to that kind of labour.
‘We’ve made a fantastic start,’ he said. ‘But it’s been hot work, and you’ll be wanting to get back to your families – or maybe just to the pub! Thanks again, all of you. If anyone is up for another go at it next week, we’ll meet at the same time in the car park meeting point.’
I stared around me as we packed up the tools. Already, the park was looking better. Just having the grass cut to a decent length was a huge improvement. There was still work to do, and even after the tidy-up was finished, we’d need regular working sessions to keep it tidy if it wasn’t going to revert to a jungle over the summer.
‘I won’t be able to do next weekend – I’ll have Mia,’ I said when, together with the other dog walkers, we retired to the Fox and Goose for a quick drink.
‘Not being funny, Nic, but your mum would be more useful than you anyway,’ Craig joked, and I gave him a shove, making him slop some of his beer down his T-shirt, and some of the others laughed.
‘Sorry,’ I said, with a grin. ‘Hope it’s not your best shirt.’
Like all of us, he was wearing old clothes, which were now streaked with dirt.
‘Cheeky,’ he replied, smiling back at me. ‘I know you can’t keep your hands off me, Nic.’
I felt myself flush as they all laughed again. It was probably just a touch of
sunburn, I thought. Then I caught Amber frowning at me, and I hid my face behind my drink.
What’s her problem? I thought, crossly. We were only joking around. Amber had told me she wasn’t interested in Craig herself, and although I’d accepted that she’d been worried about me getting hurt, I didn’t see why I should stop enjoying our little flirtations. It felt nice to be paid some attention for a change.
Our park campaign, in general, seemed to be gaining momentum at an unbelievable rate. Everywhere I went in the village, people were talking to me about it. Teachers and parents at the school were asking what they could do to help. Whenever I went into the shop, Mum’s colleagues would ask me how it was going, and as I walked Smartie around the village, I’d have people coming up to me, asking if I was one of the group organising the pet show. I’d sent off the petition to the council now. Sara had warned us that it was unlikely to make any difference on its own, but did at least show them that we were by no means alone in wanting the park kept open.
The day after that first tidying-up weekend, I happened to see old Tommy Burrows working in his front garden again.
‘Lovely morning, ain’t it,’ he called out to me, resting on his garden fork. ‘I hear you young folk be fighting that darn council over their silly buggerin’ idea of selling off the parkland.’
‘We are, Tommy. Are going to support us?’ I asked him.
‘’Course I am. Good for ye. Don’t ’e go forgitting ’bout our cats though, will ’e? Fair breaks my heart to think of ol’ Ginger lying in some ditch hereabouts. I bin out looking for ’e meself, every bliddy night, calling ’e till me voice is darn’ near gone, but…’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘I reckon you young folk has got more chance. What with your newspaper and your buggerin’ social media and all that.’
I nodded. I’d already mentioned to the others that I was worried we’d overlook the search for the missing cats now that we were so busy fighting for the park.
‘I won’t forget, Tommy. You know my mum’s cat Monty is one of the missing ones, and I really do want to find out what’s happened to him.’
‘Thank ’e, young Nicola. Tis good to have you back in Furzewell, though we were all sorry about your marriage. But truth told, I can’t see meself coming to the pet show without ’aving Ginger back.’
‘Of course not. I understand.’ Seeing other people’s cats on show would just make his loss feel worse. I wondered if the owners of the other missing cats would feel the same. I hoped it wasn’t going to be seen as a tactless move – putting on a show for those lucky enough to still have their pets, while so many villagers were missing their beloved cats.
‘I don’t know what else we can do,’ Craig admitted when I put this to him that evening. We were the only two, on this occasion, who’d gone on to do a longer walk with the dogs. Simon had messaged us to say he wouldn’t be back from work in time to meet us that night. Sara had excused herself after giving Babette a quick run at the back of the park, saying she wanted to spend some time designing posters for the pet show. We’d all offered to help, but she seemed to delight in doing a lot of these things on her own. And Amber said she had some work for a client that she needed to finish by the next day – giving me a warning look, as she left me and Craig together, that made me feel irritated all over again.
‘I know,’ I said now. ‘But I do feel bad about it. We promised to try to help find the cats—’
‘We did try, Nic. And we can keep trying, even if we’re concentrating more on the park at the moment.’ He paused, looking at me sympathetically. ‘I know you’d like to find your mum’s cat. Maybe we could devote a page of the pet show programme to a reminder about it? Put in pictures of all the missing cats?’
‘Actually, that’s a really good idea,’ I agreed. I was touched at how thoughtful he was, considering he didn’t have a cat himself. Under all his banter and joking, he was a nice, caring guy, I thought to myself. ‘Everyone who buys a programme will be an animal lover. Perfect place to remind them about it. We could head it something like Enjoy the pet show today – but please spare a thought for these missing cats.’
‘Yes – brilliant.’ He gave me a smile. ‘Let’s suggest it to the others.’
He pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to our WhatsApp group, before looking back up at me and saying:
‘I think we ought to get a move on. Look at that sky.’
While we’d been strolling at a leisurely pace through Cuckoo Copse, allowing Smartie and Judy to run ahead through the bracken, sniffing into the undergrowth, the bright evening sky had slowly darkened, and not in a good way.
‘Yes. The air does feel suddenly really close and heavy,’ I agreed. I’ve always been one of those people who can sense a storm coming. My head felt tight, as if I had a headache brewing.
We walked on more quickly, the dogs bounding ahead of us. We came to the far end of the copse and called the dogs back to put them on their leads. Judy had turned obediently towards Craig, with Smartie following, when there was a flash of lightning in the sky above us. Judy stopped dead, sniffing the air, looking around her anxiously, while Smartie bounded back to me and I fastened on his lead.
‘Here, Judy,’ Craig said, walking towards her.
She took a tentative step closer, but at that moment, there was a crash of thunder, so loud that even I nearly jumped out of my skin. Smartie yelped, shaking and running behind my legs – but Judy, completely spooked, gave a terrified whimper and bolted straight back into the copse.
‘Judy!’ Craig and I both yelled – making Smartie yelp again in fear.
I’d never known Judy not to come back at her master’s command. But, having yelled her name again, with no response, Craig simply turned and started to walk back into the copse.
‘Sorry,’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘I’ll have to go after her. She’s probably just sheltering somewhere. She’s terrified of storms.’
There was another flash of lightning and almost instantly an even louder crash of thunder – and it began to rain, suddenly, violently, as if the heavens were emptying. The storm must be directly overhead. I’d started to follow Craig, keeping poor shivering Smartie close to me on his lead, but he called back to me again:
‘Go home, Nic. You’ll get drenched. Smartie’s scared.’
‘I’m drenched already.’ The worst of the soaking had happened while we were at the edge of the copse, almost in the open; now we were back under the tree canopy it wasn’t quite so bad, although it was surprising how much of the downpour was still finding its way through. And Smartie wasn’t going to get any less scared, walking all the way home, than he was now. ‘I’ll help you look for Judy, it will be easier with two of us,’ I insisted.
The next fifteen or twenty minutes were panic-stricken. We separated, ploughing our way back through the copse by different paths, both of us walking slowly and calling softly to Judy, rather than startling her further by running or shouting. The rain came down relentlessly, beating on the trees, trickling down the neck of my T-shirt, and the thunder crashed again and again above me. Smartie whined and yelped a couple more times but then seemed to fall into silent misery, plodding along beside me, as close to my legs as he could get.
‘It’s all right, Smartie,’ I tried to reassure him above the noise of the thunder and the sound of the rain on the leaves. In actual fact, I knew it wasn’t all right at all. We shouldn’t be under trees during a thunderstorm, everybody knows that, but what else could we do? ‘We’ve just got to find Judy, then we can go home. Where’s Judy gone, Smartie?’
He pricked up his ears at the sound of his friend’s name, and gave another quiet little whine.
And then, just as I thought we were going to reach the other end of the copse without finding any sign of Judy, Smartie stopped in his tracks, giving two sharp little barks.
‘Come on, you’re OK,’ I said, giving a gentle tug at his lead. But he was trying to pull me in a different direction. ‘What is it, Smartie? Did
you hear Judy?’ I looked around me. I was pretty sure we’d already covered the section of path he was pulling me towards. But it was worth a try. ‘OK, then. Let’s go.’
Nose to the ground, whimpering, Smartie ran ahead of me now in the direction he’d chosen. Too afraid to let him loose in case another clap of thunder made him bolt too, I gave him the length of his lead and ran after him, stumbling over roots, slipping now and again on wet leaves where the rain had got through a gap in the trees and soaked the ground. We turned off the path and dived through thicker undergrowth. Twice I almost let go of the lead as Smartie ran faster and faster, tugging me behind him. And there, suddenly, in a dense, dark part of the copse far from all the well-trodden paths, where I couldn’t remember ever venturing before, we finally found poor Judy, lying exhausted under a clump of ferns, panting silently in fear.
‘Quiet, Smartie; well done,’ I said, as the pup immediately started to bark with excitement. ‘OK, Judy. It’s all right, girl, stay still. Good girl, stay, stay,’ I went on, gently, as I walked closer. ‘That’s right, stay, here we are now. Are you hurt?’
Looping Smartie’s lead around my arm, I squatted down and stroked Judy’s head, trying to calm her. She nuzzled under my free arm and I quickly threaded my end of Smartie’s lead through her collar so that both dogs were tethered to me.
‘Craig!’ I yelled, now that I’d got Judy under control and knew she couldn’t bolt again. ‘Over here! I’ve found her!’
There was a faint answering call, and for the next few minutes I kept shouting so that he could find us. The thunder was now coming less frequently, rumbling off into the distance, and the rain had eased off slightly. When Craig finally came crashing through the undergrowth, his hair plastered to his head, his clothes clinging to him, he was out of breath and almost on the verge of tears.
‘I ran right back down Cuckoo Lane, almost back to the park,’ he gasped. ‘I’d just turned back again and started another search of the copse when I heard you call. Judy! Thank God. Are you hurt, baby?’
The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers Page 16