Sunshine and Spaniels

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Lizzie screwed up her face. ‘She wears too much perfume, and she spends the whole time snapchatting on her phone. Emma and I could be dancing on the table and she wouldn’t care.’ Lizzie hugged Disco, and the younger dog, while held in a vice-like grip, still managed to lick Lizzie’s chin. She giggled.

  ‘Well, there’s nobody else. She’ll have to do. Hello, Pippa?’ Frankie turned away from them.

  ‘We’ll look after them,’ Cat said. ‘Won’t we, Pol?’

  Polly widened her eyes at Cat. ‘Uhm, yes, yeah, of course.’

  ‘Hang on, Pippa.’ Frankie pressed the phone against her shoulder and turned round. ‘You will?’

  Cat nodded. ‘We can take them with us round the park.’

  ‘Henry too?’

  Cat swallowed and glanced at her friend. She had no experience with babies. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Polly’s a nurse, so—’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘A veterinary nurse. Not maternity.’ Her eyes widened even further, and Cat thought they might pop out, but she chose to ignore the silent message Polly was giving her.

  Frankie looked at them for a moment, then picked up the phone. ‘Pippa, I’ll call you back.’ She hung up. ‘I don’t finish until eleven.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Cat said. ‘As long as you can tell us what to do for dinner, and what time it is. We can think of things to do, can’t we?’

  Lizzie nodded, looking warily between Cat and her mum, as if not quite believing she was about to get away with such an exciting change of plan. ‘But we can’t stay up late. We always promise Mum we’ll go to bed on time, and be well behaved, and help look after Henry.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Cat said. ‘Your mum can tell us everything we need to do, if we help you find your shoes?’

  Frankie nodded slowly. She still looked sceptical, but Cat gave her what she hoped was a winning smile, and Lizzie pressed her hands in front of her in a praying motion, Disco still within the circle of her arms.

  ‘All right then,’ Frankie said. ‘Henry’s day bag is over here, and should have everything you need. I can talk you through it. If you’re sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘We’d love to,’ Cat said. Glancing at her friend, she was pretty sure Polly didn’t share the sentiment.

  Fairview beach was busy late on a Saturday afternoon, and even walking in the quieter, Fairview cove, which allowed dogs throughout the year, Cat felt conspicuous with six dogs, two young girls and a pram. Polly, too, seemed in a state of shock. She was pushing Henry and kept peering forward, cooing at him even though he was fast asleep under the hood. Cat thought she was probably checking he was still alive.

  ‘Stay close to us, girls,’ Cat said.

  Lizzie had Disco, Emma had Olaf, and Cat was in charge of Chalky and Jessica’s Westies, Valentino, Coco and Dior. The girls ran ahead, crossing paths, getting the leads tangled up, but it was clear they were excited about spending time with new people, and lots of dogs.

  Emma raced back to Cat and Polly, Olaf sprinting alongside, his ears mirroring his young owner’s flyaway hair. ‘Can we go in the water?’ she panted.

  ‘What, swim?’ Polly screeched.

  ‘No, paddle. We’ll stay close.’

  ‘And keep the dogs on their leads?’ Cat asked. ‘I don’t want to have to go in after them. I know it’s warm, but the water’s cold.’

  Emma nodded. ‘Promise.’

  ‘And stay with your sister. Hold hands at all times, OK? Lizzie?’

  The older girl walked up with Disco, took her sister’s hand and they both headed towards the sea. The breakers were small, the sand sliding gently into a calm surf, and Cat didn’t think they had anything to worry about, but she still steered their party closer to the water.

  ‘How can you be so relaxed?’ Polly asked. ‘How can this be happening? We’ve got a baby and two girls to look after, and that’s if you disregard all the dogs. Imagine if we managed to piss Jessica and Frankie off? They’re both formidable, in their own ways. I am terrified.’

  ‘I’m calm because I’m with you,’ Cat said, grinning.

  ‘Oh, well, brilliant. That makes me feel so much better! God, Cat, what do you think I’ll be able to do if they all disappear under the waves or the baby starts choking?’

  ‘You’re a nurse. OK, an animal nurse, but the principles are the same. Hearts and lungs and eyes and feet. And come on, it’s not like we’re alone. We’ve got Frankie’s number, and the restaurant’s, and there’s Elsie and Joe—’

  ‘Joe would either be killing himself laughing or running away in terror if he could see us right now.’

  ‘Joe’s a bit safe, that’s all.’

  ‘Joe thinks my best friend is a bona-fide lunatic,’ Polly confirmed. ‘And I’m starting to agree with him. Don’t do that!’ she squealed, as Emma bent down, dangling her hair in the waves. She emerged, smiling, holding a long black tendril of slimy seaweed. Olaf yapped at it, then danced away when Emma waggled it in his direction. Cat saw the glint of triumph in the young girl’s eyes, remembered that exact look from when Disco had escaped at the nursery, and knew that Emma would grow up mischievous. She confirmed it when, still holding onto Olaf’s lead, she raced towards Polly.

  Polly screamed and, letting go of the pram, ran up the beach. Laughing, Cat took the pram, checked the dog leads weren’t tangled under the wheels, and started pushing. Chalky looked up at her and sniffed.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said. ‘I’m not a lunatic. I’m helping out.’ The mini schnauzer dropped his head and carried on walking, and Cat felt a squeeze of sadness at the thought that she hadn’t got the old dog’s approval. Polly, Emma and Olaf fell into a heap, Lizzie and Disco not far behind, and Cat pushed Henry up the sand, wishing the wheels were a bit wider, and joined them.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘that’s enough exertion. Time for ice cream.’ Emma and Lizzie cheered and helped Polly to her feet.

  ‘This,’ Polly panted, ‘is madness. Why did I let you talk me into it?’

  ‘You’re having fun, admit it. I’ll buy you a ninety-nine to say sorry.’

  ‘Oh, well then,’ Polly said, rubbing her sandy hands against her shorts, ‘all is forgiven.’

  ‘Capello’s Ice Cream Parlour,’ Lizzie read. ‘Not Just for Sundaes.’

  ‘But you can have one if you want,’ Cat added. ‘Whatever you want.’

  ‘A waffle?’ Emma asked. ‘With chocolate sauce?’

  Cat nodded. ‘Sounds perfect.’ She dug into her purse, pulled out some money and handed it to Lizzie. ‘You go inside and order, and I’ll find a table out here.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Share a banana split?’

  Polly grinned and opened the door for the girls.

  Cat pushed the pram to the side of the low building and found a large table set apart from the others. She tied the dogs up and Disco and Olaf went straight to a silver bowl of water, lapping quickly. The parlour was set back from the sand, between the main beach and the dog-friendly cove, and was clearly owned by a dog lover. Cat rocked the pram backwards and forwards and, while she was alone, quickly checked the baby was still breathing. He gurgled slightly and opened his eyes.

  Lizzie and Emma raced up to the table with a large bottle of water, Polly carrying four glasses behind them.

  ‘Ice cream on the way?’

  ‘Sundaes,’ Emma said, her green eyes wide. ‘They’re amazing!’

  ‘Excellent. And d’you think Henry needs feeding?’

  Lizzie nodded and went to the day bag. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘I can ask them to warm the milk up.’ She took the bottle back to the ice-cream parlour.

  ‘She’s very grown-up, isn’t she?’ Cat said.

  Polly nodded. She was staring at the table, running her finger along the rough grain of the wood.

  ‘She’s ten,’ Emma said. ‘Six years older than me.’

  ‘Do you think that’s a lot?’ Cat asked.

 
Emma nodded. ‘It’s whole worlds older,’ she said seriously.

  While Lizzie was cradling Henry, expertly feeding him the bottle, and Emma was giving treats to the dogs, Cat moved closer to Polly.

  ‘Are you OK? I know this is a lot to deal with, and perhaps not how you anticipated spending your Saturday afternoon, but is something wrong? You look—’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Polly said. ‘Just hot and tired. Looking forward to our ice cream.’ She gave a weak smile, which didn’t fool Cat for a moment.

  When their ice creams were brought to the table, Cat thought she knew the answer.

  ‘One waffle with Belgian chocolate sauce and sprinkles.’ Emma held her hand up. ‘One knickerbocker glory – for you?’ Lizzie nodded. ‘And one banana split, two spoons, extra cream and I took the liberty of adding some pistachio ice cream, as you said it was your favourite.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Polly said quickly, looking up at the man who had brought their ice creams out. He had thick, almost black hair in tight curls, and large blue eyes. He also, if Cat wasn’t mistaken, had a dog that, about a month before, hadn’t been very well at all.

  ‘Thank you.’ Cat beamed up at him. ‘How’s your fox terrier, Rummy, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh.’ He glanced at Polly, then back at Cat, and ran his hands down his apron. ‘Rummy is back to normal, one hundred per cent, and all thanks to Polly. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if—’ He shook his head. ‘All of this is on the house,’ he added. ‘As a very small thank-you.’

  ‘It was the vet, really,’ Polly said.

  ‘I don’t believe that. I mean, the vet of course, but you took him in, got him through to surgery so quickly. I owe you everything.’

  Cat bit her lip to stop herself grinning. ‘I’m Cat,’ she said, standing. ‘Polly’s best friend and resident Fairview dog walker.’

  ‘Owen.’ He shook her hand. ‘Ice-cream maker and very, very grateful dog owner. That’s quite a pack you’ve got there,’ he said. ‘Careful.’

  Cat glanced behind her and saw that Dior had his front paws on the bench, his bottom waggling in pre-jump mode. ‘No, Dior,’ she said. ‘Not ice cream. Jessica would kill me.’ When she turned back, Owen was gazing down at Polly and Polly was dipping her spoon into the cream on top of the banana split. Cat felt a rush of triumph.

  ‘If you’re ever in need of a dog walker…’ she said.

  Owen shook his head. ‘Rummy and I are pretty inseparable. He gets lots of walks.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ Cat shrugged. ‘Take my number anyway, just in case…’

  Polly frowned as Cat pulled a scrap of paper and a pen out of her bag, scribbled on it and handed it to Owen.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He waggled it and walked backwards a few steps. ‘Nice to meet you, and lovely to see you again, Polly.’ He looked at her, his smile creasing his eyes as he put the piece of paper in the top pocket of his shirt.

  Rummy, a pretty fox terrier, with brown ears and spots of grey on his wiry coat, trotted up to meet his owner, almost tripping him.

  ‘Thanks for the ice cream!’ Cat called, as Owen bent to stroke his dog and then disappeared inside.

  Lizzie gave Cat her money back. ‘Didn’t need it,’ she said. ‘The nice man paid for everything.’

  Emma was nose deep in her waffle, chocolate sauce on her cheek and fingers.

  ‘Wasn’t that nice of him?’ Cat kept her eyes on Polly. ‘Why do you think that was, Lizzie?’

  ‘Because he likes Polly,’ she said, ‘and he wants to impress her.’

  Cat grinned. ‘Ever thought of being a detective?’

  Lizzie shook her head, giggling.

  ‘He was just grateful for Rummy,’ Polly said, ‘that’s all.’

  ‘He had big gooey eyes all over you,’ Emma said, looking up from her dessert. ‘Just like his ice cream.’

  Cat laughed, full and loud. ‘“Big gooey eyes”,’ she repeated. ‘I think I know exactly what you mean. How’s your pistachio ice cream, Pol?’

  Polly gave Cat her Midwich Cuckoo stare and stuck her spoon in the banana split; she picked up a huge dollop of ice cream and, still looking at Cat, shoved it in her mouth.

  Cat chuckled and picked up her own spoon. She knew Polly well enough to see that Owen Capello, with his ice creams and his dog, had definitely had an effect on her. Cat hoped her friend wouldn’t be too cross when she discovered that it was Polly’s number she’d scrawled on the piece of paper, and not her own.

  On their way back from the beach, Cat saw Captain strolling along ahead of them, a rolled-up newspaper tucked under his arm. Their party of dogs and children was subdued, Cat and Polly – and the beach – having tired them out. She thought she could leave them in Polly’s capable hands for a couple of minutes.

  ‘I won’t be a second,’ Cat said, handing over the Westies’ leads to Polly. She raced up and tapped Captain on the shoulder.

  ‘Hi, Captain. It’s Cat – remember me, from the Pooches’ and Puppies’ Picnic?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember you and your chap,’ he nodded, squinting against the sun. ‘Elsie’s friend.’

  ‘That’s right. I was just wondering, how’s Paris doing? Is she any better?’

  Captain’s friendly gaze dropped to the ground, and Cat felt his whole demeanour change. ‘She’s worse if anything. I had a battle to try and get her out today – just to the shop for the paper, I said to her, but she wasn’t having any of it. She hid in my washing machine until I left. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Let me have a think,’ Cat said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘I can ask around, visit a couple of online forums.’

  Captain sighed and put his hand on top of hers. ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘Of course. I know I’m just a dog walker, but I hate seeing any animals – especially of the canine variety – upset. If there’s anything I can do to make Paris better, then I will.’

  ‘Bless you,’ Captain said.

  ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.’ Cat gave his hand a squeeze and ran back to join the others.

  ‘What was that about?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Just trying to help out,’ Cat shrugged.

  ‘Oh.’ Polly tried to hide her smile. ‘That’s unusual for you.’

  Cat rolled her eyes and halted their party at the zebra crossing.

  Chapter 4

  Polly had been stunned, and Cat triumphant, that they had survived their first babysitting duties. Henry had only had one bout of uncontrollable screaming, and that was once they’d gone back to Frankie’s house and Cat had made some food for them all. No children or dogs had fallen in the sea, and Emma and Lizzie had gone to sleep happy, Emma prolonging her bedtime by insisting on walking two steps up, one step down, all the way to her bedroom. But when Frankie had returned, close to midnight and almost too exhausted to speak, Cat knew that walking Olaf and occasionally looking after her children wasn’t going to be enough.

  Summer in Fairview was proving to be glorious. A hazy May turned into a hot, fresh June, and with the summer holidays on the horizon, Pooch Promenade was picking up. Cat had had a couple of requests to look after dogs while families went on holiday and, as much as she didn’t want to turn down business, she had to remind herself that she was only one-and-a-half-people strong, and being the sole carer for dogs for more than a few days at a time wasn’t yet practical.

  Polly’s exams were only a couple of months away, and while her friend was hidden inside revising, Cat was spending most of her time outdoors, often doing three walks a day. She’d never considered that she’d have a job where sunburn was an occupational hazard.

  ‘Owowowwwwwww.’

  ‘Hold still, because it won’t work if you won’t let me put it on.’ Polly was kneeling on the sofa, applying cold aloe vera cream to Cat’s neck and shoulders. ‘This stuff is meant to be soothing. You’re not acting very soothed.’

  ‘It is soothing, but it burns too.’

  ‘It’s very pink.’

  ‘Ho
w pink?’ She knew she should have worn a T-shirt rather than a strappy top, but it was such a warm day, no clouds in the sky, and she liked the breeze against her skin. Of course, that combination was what had done it.

  ‘Ummmm,’ Polly said, obviously trying to think of something nice to say.

  ‘A giant lobster,’ said another voice.

  ‘Thanks, Joe,’ Cat winced. ‘I will never fail to be amazed at your ability to make a girl feel special.’

  ‘It’s one of my many talents.’ He went into the kitchen and Cat heard the fridge door open. ‘That does look sore.’

  ‘Says the man who just has to look at the sun to go brown. How come that happens when you’re so blonde?’

  ‘Another of my many talents,’ he called. ‘I’m a talented guy.’

  ‘We thought we might go to the pub,’ Polly said.

  ‘I’m not sure the Lobster Cat should sit in the beer garden.’

  ‘We weren’t going to sit outside. And if you think, for even one moment, that I’m going to be happy with that nickname, then you can think again.’

  Joe popped his head around the door and grinned. ‘It has a certain ring to it.’

  Cat pointed at him. ‘No.’

  ‘Coming, Joey? We’re going to have an evening of de-stress. Exams, dogs, struggling neighbours.’

  Joe narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re still trying to save that mum?’

  ‘I’m not trying to save her, I just want to help.’

  ‘You can’t help everyone, Cat.’ He had his irritated tone back, and Cat felt as though she was being told off by her old maths teacher, even if Joe was much easier on the eye. ‘Eventually,’ he continued, ‘your brain will run out of space, and you’ll be so busy helping other people that you’ll start to neglect yourself. You’ll stop washing, stop eating. You’ll slowly lose your dress sense and have this one cow-print onesie that you run up and down the street in, looking for new crusades.’

  Cat and Polly looked at him. Polly had stopped mid-squirt, and Cat could feel the cold lotion running down her back.

  ‘It sounds like you’ve been thinking about that for far too long,’ Cat said.

  ‘It’s an observation. You’ll morph into the town busybody and people will turn in the opposite direction when they see you.’