The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers

by Sheila Norton

  I’d never doubted his love for his dog. But now, watching as he threw himself down onto his knees on the damp ground, putting his arms around her as he gently felt her, checking for any injuries, I felt a lump in my throat. Amber was wrong about him, I thought. He was a far more sensitive, caring man than she’d been giving him credit for.

  ‘Smartie led me to her,’ I told him. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Clever dog,’ he said, getting up and patting Smartie on the head. ‘Yes, I think she’s fine.’ Judy had staggered up onto her paws now, and her tail was beginning to wave very gently in response to her master’s caresses. ‘She was probably just too frightened to run any further.’ Murmuring quietly to Judy again, he fastened her lead to her collar, handing me back my end of Smartie’s lead. Then he straightened up, sighing with relief, and finally turned to me. ‘Thank you so much, Nic.’ He enveloped me in a hug, taking me completely by surprise, and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I might never have found her if you hadn’t stayed to help.’

  His face was wet, rainwater still running from his hair, and his shirt soaked through – I could feel it, through the clammy dampness of my own T-shirt. He held me for longer than would have been necessary for a simple thank you, and I found I didn’t mind. There in the dripping, steaming copse, with the heat of the summer evening beginning to build again already as the storm passed, he held me, and I didn’t pull away. I didn’t object, either, when he kissed me again, or when this time, his lips found mine. And to my own astonishment, as the dogs lay panting at our feet, recovering from their fright, we kissed with an intensity I’d never imagined kissing anyone with, ever again. It felt like a long time before, eventually, we stopped, out of breath, and he looked down at me, and traced the shape of my mouth with his fingers.

  ‘It must have been the storm,’ he muttered, with that smile of his that never failed to make me shiver. ‘Something to do with electricity.’

  Electricity, I thought to myself as eventually, we led Judy and Smartie back out of the copse. That was exactly how it had felt. Just before we reached the road we stopped and kissed again, more slowly this time.

  ‘We should do this more often,’ he said, looking directly into my eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ I found myself agreeing, wondering if I was going to regret this after I’d got home, dried off, changed out of my wet clothes, washed away the traces of his kisses and the memory of how close he’d held me.

  But I didn’t. Slightly shocked though I was by this new, reckless me, this still-officially-married, brazen hussy of a woman who’d shared passionate kisses with a rain-soaked man in the middle of the wood, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. It had been hard, loving Josh for so long when he’d stopped loving me back. It had made me feel unwanted, unattractive; I’d wondered what was wrong with me, and my self-esteem had been left in tatters. Now somebody seemed to like me. Somebody young, good-looking and charming. I pushed aside thoughts that it was shallow of me to be gratified by that. Josh hadn’t been interested in me anymore, but it seemed Craig was. He wanted me, not Sara, after all, and not Amber either. Why shouldn’t I be pleased about it? And why shouldn’t I admit that, in fact, I wanted him too?

  Part 3

  * * *

  HEAD OVER TAILS

  CHAPTER 21

  I didn’t see Craig again until the end of that week, by which time a few doubts had, needless to say, started to creep in. What on earth was I thinking of to have kissed him back? Why was I even considering getting involved? And anyway, he probably regretted saying anything to me about doing it more often. Probably regretted kissing me at all. It was just the euphoria of the moment – finding his beloved Judy – and now he was worried that I might get the wrong idea and read too much into it, so he was going to keep his distance.

  But on the Friday evening walk, there he was again, giving me that cheeky grin and – when he found a moment to walk close enough to me for none of the others to overhear – whispering that he was looking forward to another walk in the woods some time, just the two of us.

  ‘Or maybe you’d just settle for a drive and a meal at nice little pub,’ he added, suggesting a spot in the middle of Dartmoor. There was no need for him to explain why it wouldn’t be a good idea to be seen out together in Furzewell. The whole village would be buzzing with gossip within an hour.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Yes. That sounds good.’ I smiled. It would be good to be taken out for a meal by an attentive, good-looking man. Although I did feel a bit strange about going out with another man after being married for so long, I supposed it was natural. ‘Can I ask Mum when she’s free to babysit, first?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t make me wait too long, though,’ he teased, making me giggle.

  Then I looked up, to see Amber frowning at me.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Craig asked, following my gaze.

  ‘Amber,’ I whispered. ‘She keeps watching me, around you. She looks like she disapproves.’

  ‘Oh, she’s always like that,’ he retorted scathingly. ‘Doesn’t seem to want anyone else to have any fun. Probably hasn’t had any herself for years.’

  ‘Don’t be like that. She’s my oldest friend,’ I said. Despite myself, I felt disloyal for talking about her like this. ‘We always used to be so close and get on so well together. I wonder what’s happened. I mean, perhaps she’s had her heart broken badly somewhere along the line.’

  ‘Well, don’t look at me!’ he said vehemently. ‘She’s not my type and she quite clearly doesn’t like me.’

  I shook my head. ‘No. I think she’s probably just trying to protect me. From getting hurt again, you know.’

  He looked at me for a minute, his head on one side, and went on, sounding more serious than usual: ‘It’s knocked your confidence, hasn’t it – your husband cheating on you.’

  ‘Oh, he didn’t cheat on me,’ I said. ‘Well, not as far as I know. He didn’t have time for anything like that. Our marriage just broke down. All he did was work, it felt like we barely spent any time together anymore.’

  ‘Silly man,’ he said more softly, his eyes caressing me now.

  I felt myself blushing. ‘Well, you’re right, anyway – I have to admit it did knock my confidence. I don’t feel ready for another relationship, that’s for sure. Not now, possibly not ever.’

  I didn’t know why I felt I had to give him that kind of warning. After all, I’d already heard enough about him to know he didn’t seem to be relationship material himself.

  ‘But we could still go on a date?’ he persisted.

  ‘Yes. I’d like that. I think it’s probably best if we don’t mention it to the group, and especially to Amber, though.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he agreed at once. ‘No point starting gossip, is there.’

  That weekend Mum duly came along to help at the park – mainly to give advice about flowers versus weeds – and I only stayed for a little while with Mia, until she got bored. It was the last weekend in June. Time seemed to be rushing past. School was busy, with sports day and the end-of-term ‘talent show’ to prepare for, and my reception class children were becoming overexcited already. Meanwhile, August Bank Holiday, the date of the pet show, felt worryingly close. We’d put posters up around the village, and Sara had arranged for adverts to go in the local paper and on local radio during the preceding few weeks. Although there was no doubt Sara was brilliant at organising it all, and we trusted her, I still found it irritating that she seemed to want to do everything – except, perhaps, the gardening – herself. I’d have liked to contribute more to the campaign myself, and much as I appreciated her leadership qualities, it was frustrating only being allowed to take on a few minor tasks.

  ‘Don’t forget we wanted to put a page in there about the cats,’ I reminded her during one of our evening walks, after she’d shown us what she’d drafted out, so far, for the programme.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten. I asked all the owners of the missing cats for photos, but I’m still waiting for some of t
hem.’

  ‘Well, let me chase them up,’ I offered.

  ‘It’s OK, I’ll do it. We’ve still got plenty of time.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that I really believe it’s going to make any difference.’

  ‘Maybe not, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it? We did promise we’d do all we could.’

  ‘If someone’s taken those cats,’ Sara said, dropping her voice, ‘or done something to them, I’m sorry but an advert in the pet show programme won’t make any difference—’

  ‘But obviously we’re still hoping it wasn’t somebody taking them,’ I said.

  ‘Then you’re being a bit naïve, Nic. Sorry,’ she said again – and this time she couldn’t seem to help herself, as she looked directly in Amber’s direction, ‘but I think we all need to accept that this is what’s happened. There’s a cat-hater in the village, and you know it as well as I do.’

  ‘I don’t know it,’ I retorted, rattled. ‘I’m still hoping there’s a less sinister reason, and if that makes me naïve, I don’t care. And stop staring at Amber,’ I added in a sharp hiss. Amber was walking some way in front of us, but I’d have hated for her to turn round and see Sara giving her that look.

  ‘Well, there’s only one person among us who openly says she doesn’t like cats. Only one who hasn’t been particularly enthusiastic about the idea of the advert in the programme.’

  ‘You don’t sound particularly enthusiastic yourself,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Only because I think it might raise false hopes. Yours included.’

  ‘Well, I’d rather have my hopes raised than start suspecting one of our friends.’

  I naturally sprang to Amber’s defence, despite our friendship having become a bit strained recently. It was completely ridiculous to imagine she’d do anything to hurt a cat, or any animal. But I was aware that I was particularly determined right then to defend her and show I still thought of her as my friend – because I felt guilty for how I’d been thinking about her recently, and how I’d talked to Craig about her. She had no idea, of course, that I’d agreed to go on a date with Craig, and I had no intention of telling her. And, ridiculously, that just added to my feelings of guilt. We’d spent so much of our lives sharing our most intimate secrets, and even though it wasn’t the same now and we’d drifted apart in the last few years, those childhood and teenage memories weren’t something to be ignored lightly.

  Louise and I, on the other hand, were spending more time together than ever after school. I’d even agreed to be her contact and nominated person to collect Eddie if she was ever late getting home from her work, which she said was a huge weight off her mind. She finished at three every afternoon, and it normally took her exactly fifteen minutes to drive back to Furzewell, just in time for school finishing, but she only had to find herself behind a tractor on one of the country lanes, and the whole thing came unstuck.

  ‘I’ve … got a secret,’ I confided in her, one afternoon when we were sitting in the sunshine in the garden of Eagle House, watching Mia and Eddie play. ‘I haven’t told anyone.’

  Not even Mum. I’d decided my date with Craig was going to be the following Saturday evening, when Mia would be with Josh again. Mum had already told me she’d be out with her friends that night. I’d have the house to myself while I got ready, and nobody to care what time I got home. Nobody need know. But … I was just itching to share it with someone.

  ‘Oooh,’ Louise said. ‘That sounds intriguing. Come on, spill the beans. I promise it won’t go any further,’ she added when I hesitated.

  ‘I’ve got a date. With a man.’ I bit my lip. Saying it out loud had suddenly made it feel real, and more nerve-wracking. What was I doing? I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go anymore. ‘Do you think it’s too soon?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Why? You’re separated, aren’t you? Good luck to you, Nic. Who is he? Has he got a friend, or a brother?’

  I laughed. ‘Well, it’s one of the dog walkers—’

  ‘Oh – Simon?’ she guessed, with a smile. ‘Ah, he’s such a nice guy.’

  I felt my face flare with heat. I supposed that was what anyone would assume. Nice, kind, Simon, the gentle giant, the lonely widower – why wouldn’t anyone want to go out with him? Anyone, perhaps, who wasn’t so pathetically immature that they preferred a young, good-looking, smooth-talking guy with a reputation for being a ladies’ man.

  ‘Craig?’ Louise questioned, seeing as I hadn’t replied – and immediately burst out laughing.

  ‘Is it that ridiculous?’ I asked, feeling mortified. Perhaps I should cancel. It wasn’t too late, and he wouldn’t care, anyway.

  ‘Of course it’s not ridiculous,’ she said at once, putting an arm round me. ‘I’m laughing because I’m so impressed. A younger man – good for you.’

  ‘Only by a few years.’

  ‘But even so. He’s …’ She grinned. ‘Have fun, you deserve it.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m being really stupid? Amber would. She’s warned me off already, and she doesn’t even know about us kissing in the copse last week.’

  ‘Kissing? In the—?’ Louise’s eyes were out on stalks now. ‘Hey, you’ve been holding out on me. Come on, I want all the details. What happened? Who made the first move? What was it like?’

  And within seconds, we were giggling together like schoolgirls. Like Amber and I used to do, I thought afterwards with a bit of a pang. I did miss being able to share things with her. But instead of feeling judged, talking to Louise had made it all feel OK. Better than OK – she’d reassured me, agreed with me that it was perfectly fine for me to throw caution to the wind, have a bit of fun and enjoy myself.

  ‘I did something similar myself soon after my marriage broke up,’ she said. ‘He was a football player – good-looking and a bit conceited—’

  ‘Like Craig.’

  ‘Well, yes, there’s a type, isn’t there.’ She nodded. ‘It didn’t last long. I knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, and I didn’t care. I guess I was just looking for reassurance, that someone still wanted me. Since then, though, I haven’t bothered looking for another relationship. I’m happy to be on my own, at least while Eddie’s still young.’

  ‘I can understand that. I don’t want another serious relationship either. I’m not sure I ever will. I’ll probably end up like my mum – pretending to be a good-time girl, going out and having fun even when she’s a grandmother.’

  ‘You think she’s only pretending?’ Louise asked me in surprise.

  ‘Hard to know, to be honest. She’s still so bitter about my dad. She keeps up this life is fun thing, almost as if she’s trying to prove to him that she’s happy without him. But he’ll never even know, or care, whether she’s happy or not. He’s lived in Ireland ever since they split up.’

  I hadn’t told Louise about Ireland. How my dad had torn our family apart, about my poor mum’s humiliation all those years ago, which seemed to have followed her down the years, hanging over her like a cloud of shame – when of course, none of it was her fault at all. Even now, she couldn’t hear an Irish accent without flinching. She’d recently turned the radio off with an angry click and a face like thunder because the words of Ed Sheeran’s ‘Galway Girl’ were so close to the mark, and she muttered that he must have written the song about Dad and that woman. And in some unfathomable way, over the years the shame seemed to have seeped into my own consciousness too, so that I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone. He’s lived in Ireland ever since they split up was my standard response, if anyone asked me about Dad, which was usually enough to answer their questions and quickly change the subject.

  ‘My parents split when I was quite young, too,’ Louise said. ‘But I was pleased when she met Charles and got remarried. He’s lovely.’ She shrugged. ‘It seems like a genetic disorder, doesn’t it, handed down from one generation to the next. And yet I tried so hard to make a go of my own marriage. I really didn’t want to be a single parent. I’d seen how hard it was for Mum.’

 
‘Me too.’

  We sat in silence for a while. Then she nudged me and started laughing again.

  ‘Never mind. Come on, tell me what you’re planning to wear for your date.’

  ‘God knows.’ I laughed too. ‘I haven’t bought anything new for ages. I’ll probably try on everything in my wardrobe and end up in jeans.’

  It was good to be laughing. Good to have a friend to share this with. I thought, guiltily, of Amber again, but dismissed the thought straight away. It was hardly my fault that she’d made it impossible for me to talk to her like this. But I wasn’t going along with Sara’s stupid cat-napper theory. At least I wasn’t that disloyal.

  As it happened, it was Amber who had news for us all at our next scheduled meeting about the pet show.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Kelly, one of the nurses at the vet’s,’ she said. ‘You know I’ve had to take Benji a few times about his skin recently.’ Poor Benji had developed horribly itchy skin, which the vet had diagnosed as an allergy, and was trying to determine the cause. ‘She’s really excited about the pet show – she’s going to enter her own two rabbits – and she’s got Mr Brent’s agreement to put posters up in the surgery.’

  ‘That’s great’ Simon smiled enthusiastically.

  ‘And also she says she can ask him if he’ll be one of the judges if we like.’

  Mr Brent was the senior vet at the practice. To have him on board, especially as a judge, would be really helpful. We were all enthusiastic, and went on to discuss who else we could ask to be judges.

  ‘Ideally we need three,’ Sara pointed out. ‘So that there can be a majority verdict, if there’s any disagreement about the best in any class.’

  ‘And they need to be unbiased,’ I added. ‘Someone who knows about pets, but isn’t entering one.’