The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers

by Sheila Norton

  ‘What about the lady who runs the boarding kennels?’ Craig suggested. ‘She’s looked after Judy sometimes when I’ve gone away. I’ll give her a call and ask her, if you like.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Sara approved. ‘And, to be honest, there’s no reason why one of us can’t be a judge. We can’t enter our own pets – it would be seen as unfair.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ I said. ‘I suppose you’re right, but Mia was hoping to enter Smartie in the best children’s pet class.’

  ‘Oh, that’s fine, surely?’ Simon said, and the others nodded agreement. ‘This isn’t exactly Crufts. I don’t think anyone’s going to take it too seriously.’

  ‘Actually,’ Sara said, ‘I hope they will. It needs to be taken seriously, if we’re going to have any chance of changing the council’s mind about the park. So we all need to pray for nice weather, a good turnout, and lots of interest and enthusiasm from the press, the people of Furzewell – and the wider Devon population. This is our chance to show them what we can do. We can’t afford to treat it as if it’s just a bit of fun.’ She looked around at us, her face deadly serious. ‘This is war, guys. And the pet show is only going to be the first battle.’

  CHAPTER 22

  The first week of July seemed to pass slowly and I knew, without wanting to admit it to myself, it was because I was counting the days until my date with Craig. Since the storm, our surprise heatwave had eventually fizzled out, replaced with warm but dull weather and the occasional summer shower.

  ‘Typical!’ Louise said, as we put up our umbrellas once again on the way home from school on the Wednesday. ‘As soon we get anywhere close to the big summer holidays, the weather changes.’

  ‘Well, there’s still more than two weeks – plenty of time for it to change again,’ I said, trying to be optimistic. ‘It’s sports day tomorrow, though. I hope it doesn’t rain for that.’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ve got the afternoon off work to come and watch it.’

  Mia and Eddie were looking forward to it. They were both in Purple Team, and were chanting Purple are the best, Purple are the winners together as they walked along in front of us now. I just hoped they weren’t going to be disappointed. Mia wasn’t a fast runner, but Eddie was. He was also, apparently, the best in his year group at throwing beanbags into a hoop, and at kicking a football into the net, which were two of the planned activities. I’d had a lot of fun helping my reception class children practise these, and soothing the tears of some of these little ones when they dropped their beanbags, missed the goal, or fell over in the attempt. I knew there would probably be several more tearful episodes the next day when they faced the more stressful situation of competing in front of the parents. But it was all part of the steep learning curve of growing up. By the next year’s sports day, most of them would be marching onto the playing field like confident mini athletes, and I’d have a new class of nervous little ones to help. I loved helping to bring out the best of them, especially on special occasions like this.

  ‘After sports day,’ Mia said when we arrived home that afternoon, ‘it’s only one more day and then I go to Daddy’s house again.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ I smiled at her, but felt my stomach give a lurch. One more day until I went out with Craig.

  ‘Good, I can’t wait,’ Mia went on, giving herself a little hug. ‘I love going to Daddy’s house.’

  My smile dropped. My stomach was now lurching for a different reason.

  ‘Well, that’s nice that you enjoy seeing him,’ I said carefully, trying to be grown up about it and ignore the pain stabbing me in the heart.

  ‘We always have fun,’ she said.

  Go on, twist the knife, I thought. I couldn’t ignore the stabbing anymore.

  ‘More fun than you have here at home?’ I found myself saying. I was doing my best not to sound like a pathetic, needy, jealous, resentful person, but it wasn’t easy. ‘With Smartie? And Eddie? And … and me?’

  ‘Oh, it’s OK here too,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I mean, I didn’t like it when we first moved here, but I’ve got used to it now. It’s just that I’ve got my new bike at Daddy’s house. And Daddy takes me out to places. Cafés, and soft play, and the cinema, and the swimming pool.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, in my pathetic, needy, jealous, resentful voice. ‘But he didn’t used to, did he? When we all lived together? You hardly ever saw him, then. He didn’t come home until you were in bed asleep. Even at weekends, he was never there.’

  I stopped. What was I doing? I’d never done this – I’d prided myself on never doing it. Criticising the father to the child, it was almost the worst sin a separated parent could commit, everybody knew that. OK, it hurt, hearing her talking about Josh and his programme of fun outings. It was really upsetting that she seemed to prefer her weekends with him, to the time she spent with boring old me. Me, the parent who’d always been there for her, perhaps a little taken for granted as I’d always had to be the one to get her up for school, make sure she ate healthy meals, did her homework and went to bed on time. No wonder she was now enjoying her weekends with Josh, who just got the fun bits: taking her out for day trips and fast food. It didn’t seem fair. But of course, Mia was just a young child, and any child would be the same – easily won over by treats and presents, whereas I was – or was supposed to be – a sensible, rational adult who ought to be mature enough to swallow her own hurt and keep nodding and smiling.

  ‘Still,’ I said, forcing the nod and the smile, ‘it’s really nice that you get to spend more time together now. And he does really spoil you too.’

  ‘Yes. Daddy says he wishes he’d done it then – when we all lived together. He says we might have still been living together now, if he’d done it then.’ She paused, looking up at me, her innocent expression melting my heart. ‘Would we, Mummy?’

  It took me a few moments to answer as I was so taken aback. It was something of a shock to hear that Josh had been saying these things to her. After all, when I’d left him, he’d claimed to have absolutely no idea what my problem was.

  ‘No, sweetheart,’ I said eventually. ‘It wouldn’t have changed anything. Mummy and Daddy weren’t getting along together. We didn’t love each other anymore. It wasn’t anything to do with you. We both love you, and we both always have done.’

  She nodded. Of course it was what I’d told her from the start and I’d continually reinforced – that she was our priority. It was one of the most difficult things to try and make her understand, bringing up painful memories for me.

  ‘Well, I don’t really mind now, anyway,’ Mia said, turning back to the drawing she was doing – a picture of herself, to give Daddy. ‘At least I get to go to the soft play. And the cinema.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ I agreed, biting my tongue. She was six. Of course these things would be her priorities. I had to get over it. Even if I could afford them, there was no cinema, soft play centre or swimming pool anywhere around Furzewell to take her to. Driving her back to Plymouth on my weekends, to visit the same places that Josh took her to, would be a tad ridiculous, and he’d rightly see it as undermining him and being confrontational. ‘And there are fun things happening here in Furzewell. We’ve got the pet show to look forward to, haven’t we?’

  ‘Mm,’ she said, going back to concentrating on colouring her self-portrait.

  Clearly the pet show was no competition for the cinema and the soft play centre.

  School Sports Day, however, was a hit. All the children seemed to enjoy it, with the inevitable exception of a few of my reception children, one of whom – a shy little girl who’d only just turned five – spent most of the time gripping my hand and crying, only cheering up when she won her race (with me running beside her). When the goals and points scored by everyone were added up at the end of the afternoon, it was announced that Purple Team were, indeed, the winners of the day – narrowly beating Yellow by only two points.

  ‘We are the champions!’ Eddie sang as we walked home later, thro
wing his arms in the air. Mia laughed and joined in. It was lovely to see them both so happy. They’d become even closer, to the point where Mia now referred to him as her best friend and her boyfriend, and had even mentioned that they would probably get married when they grew up.

  ‘It seems like only yesterday,’ I said to Louise, ‘since she was crying at home – and at school – because she was so unhappy here. Making friends with Eddie has made such a difference.’

  ‘She’d have settled down eventually,’ Louise said. ‘Eddie was miserable at first too. It’s good that they had each other to help.’

  But now we both had to face the fact that they’d be separated, in different classes, when they came back to school after the summer holiday. I don’t think either of us wanted to talk about that. It would spoil the mood.

  On the Saturday morning, after Josh had picked Mia up, Smartie and I went out for a long walk with Simon and Sara. I was relieved, to be honest, that Craig didn’t turn up on this occasion. Tonight was our date and it was hard enough to keep myself from feeling jittery about the evening ahead. I was heading home down Fore Street afterwards when Amber came out of the village shop, looking preoccupied and anxious.

  ‘Hello!’ I called out. ‘Are you OK? You missed the walk this morning.’

  ‘Yes. I’m not walking Benji for a few days. He’s really not well.’

  ‘Oh no! What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s this skin condition he’s got – it’s really troubling him. He’s scratching so much, his skin has started getting infected. The vet’s given me some medicated shampoo for him, and he’s got to have special therapeutic dog food, at least until it settles down. It looks like there’s something in the new food I’ve been giving him that’s triggered the allergy.’

  ‘Oh, poor Benji. I didn’t realise dogs could be allergic to their food.’

  ‘Me neither. At first I thought it must be fleas, although I do treat him regularly for those, of course. But now he’s got diarrhoea too, so the vet is pretty sure it must be something in the food. I feel really guilty now for changing the brand. It was a bit cheaper and I didn’t think it would matter,’ she admitted.

  ‘You weren’t to know he’d be allergic to it,’ I sympathised. ‘Can’t he just go back on the other brand?’

  ‘Yes, hopefully, once this has all settled down. The skin infection from all the scratching, and his poor tummy.’ She sighed. ‘I’d better get back to him, Nic. Sorry. See you soon.’

  ‘OK. I hope he gets better soon.’

  I could imagine how Amber must be feeling. Even though it wasn’t her fault, she must be blaming herself for it. Benji was such a sweet-natured, gentle dog – I hated to think of him suffering, not even being well enough to come out for his walks. I’d be just as upset if it were Smartie. Thinking this now, I looked down with a smile at my little dog, trotting obediently along beside me on his lead. He was growing up fast; he was nearly six months old, and I needed to book him in at the vet’s for his neutering operation. We didn’t want to breed from him or enter him into shows – apart from our own Furzewell pet show, of course – so it was the right thing to do.

  ‘Sorry to leave you on your own tonight,’ Mum said as she came out of the bathroom later with a towel around her, preparing to dress up ready for her night out with the girls. ‘What will you do – watch a film? You could always ask your gran to come round and watch it with you. You know how she likes a good rom com.’

  ‘No,’ I said hurriedly. ‘It’s OK, I’m going out myself, actually. With Amber,’ I added when Mum stopped dead in her bedroom doorway, giving me an appraising look. ‘We’re … um … going for a drive, as it’s such a nice evening. Probably we’ll find a nice country pub somewhere and have a bar meal.’

  I felt guilty and silly about lying to her, as if I were a teenager again, needing an excuse to be out late with my boyfriend. This wasn’t at all where I’d expected to find myself at this age – living in my mother’s house, sneaking out on a date. It was embarrassing. But I really didn’t want an inquisition into it. I’d had to think on my feet, because even if I’d said I was going to one of Furzewell’s only two drinking establishments, she just might have taken it in her head to suggest she and the Gruesome Twosome joined us.

  ‘Oh, that’ll be nice, then,’ she said now, but she was still looking at me somewhat critically. ‘Are you sure you can afford to go out for meals like this, though?’

  ‘It’s not like I do it all the time, Mum,’ I protested, the feeling of being a teenager, still living at home under Mum’s scrutiny, intensifying now. ‘It’ll just be something cheap at a pub, anyway.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you deserve a treat now and then,’ she conceded.

  I half expected her to tell me not to be too late, not to talk to strangers and look both ways before crossing the road. It was so weird being in this situation. If I ever did decide to start dating other men seriously I’d definitely have to move into a place of my own!

  After Mum had gone out, I went through my wardrobe, tossing items onto the bed as I gradually discarded them all as too old, too casual, too middle-aged. At the back of the wardrobe was a dress I’d last worn years ago – pre-Mia. It was red, sleeveless, shortish without being tarty and, I thought, would have been perfect if only I wasn’t now a size bigger than I was back then. I remembered wearing it to go out with Josh for one of our early wedding anniversaries, how happy and confident I’d been, wearing it then and how he’d smiled, saying I looked good. I sighed. Those days were gone.

  Nevertheless, on a silly whim to try to recreate that feeling, I tried it on, and was surprised to find it still fitted. I was aware that I’d lost a pound or two of my excess weight since the separation from Josh, probably, as everyone had said, because of the stress, or maybe because of all the exercise involved in walking Smartie. But nevertheless the dress was a bit … snug … where all those years ago it used to be comfortable. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, turning one way and then the other, trying to make up my mind. Although I was never likely to become exactly curvaceous, I did have more of a figure now than back when I used to be Nic the Stick, and the dress certainly clung in all the right places. Could I carry it off? Well, I didn’t have time to dither. It was either this dress, or – as usual – skinny jeans and a baggy top. I kept the dress on.

  When Craig arrived to pick me up, I knew, as soon as I opened the door to him, that I’d made the right choice. His eyes widened as he looked me up and down. Bearing in mind he’d only ever seen me before in my dog-walking gear or usual pub outfit of … well, jeans and a baggy top … he seemed almost to do a double-take.

  ‘Wow. You look stunning,’ he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I couldn’t remember when I’d last had a compliment like that. ‘If I wasn’t such a gentleman,’ he went on, ‘I’d have trouble keeping my hands off you.’

  A gentleman? I doubted that! But as it happened, the evening did prove me wrong in some of my preconceptions about him. For a start, as it turned out, Mum needn’t have worried about the expense. Not only did the little pub Craig had chosen, in a fairly remote part of Dartmoor, serve fresh pub grub at reasonable prices – but he completely refused any suggestion of splitting the bill.

  ‘I asked you to come out with me – I’m paying,’ he insisted. He then reverted to type somewhat, looking at me with that twinkle in his eye that made me go a bit weak at the knees. ‘What’s the matter? Are you worried I might want something in return?’

  ‘On a first date?’ I countered, trying not to blush. ‘I’m not that kind of girl!’ We both laughed. I actually had no idea what kind of girl I was these days. It had been so long. ‘Well, I’ll pay next time,’ I added. ‘If there is a next time, of course.’

  ‘I hope there will be,’ he replied at once. ‘And if you’re going to want something in return, I’d be more than happy to oblige. It won’t be our first date then, will it?’

  It was difficult
to concentrate on my food after that. But in fact he was surprisingly considerate and attentive, listening with every sign of interest to my chatter about my job, about sports day and Mia being so happy about her team’s victory, and how she hadn’t cared at all that she, personally, had come last in her own race, had missed the goal every time with the football and dropped her beanbag. He laughed in all the right places, and we were halfway through our main course before I thought to apologise for hogging the conversation.

  ‘You must find this really boring,’ I said.

  ‘Not at all. I do like kids, you know. I just don’t happen to have had any myself. Not as far as I know, anyway.’

  ‘And what would you do if you found out you had?’ I teased. ‘Leave the country?’

  He laughed. ‘I seem to have this reputation for being shallow.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ I smiled. ‘And why would people have that impression of you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess it’s because they think that by now I should be in a serious relationship, settled down with someone, planning a family and all that stuff.’ He turned those eyes on me again. ‘Perhaps I just haven’t met the right person – till now.’

  I gave an awkward little laugh, suddenly uncomfortable. He was just teasing, obviously, or – as Amber had, with her veiled hints, been so anxious to warn me – was he just flattering me, pretending to be serious, when all he really wanted was to get me into bed? I’d already told him I wasn’t looking for a relationship, so I was sure he wasn’t being serious. Or was he? That look in his eyes … the way he was smiling at me, so wistfully … the fact that he’d sounded genuinely hurt by the fact that people thought him shallow … was there an honest, serious side to him behind that façade after all?

  By the time we’d finished our meal and he’d driven me home, kissing me comparatively chastely in the car (‘unfortunately it’s not as private as the middle of the woods’), and insisting on fixing another date before we parted, I was actually beginning to wonder if I, and possibly everyone else, had got it all wrong about Craig. Apart from a little bit of innuendo and teasing, he had been a perfect gentleman.