Wellies and Westies

by Cressida McLaughlin

  At this time of the morning it was busy with dog walkers and couples strolling in the spring sunshine. Disco wasn’t old enough to walk for long periods yet, her short legs getting tired easily, even though the rest of her seemed to have endless energy. The puppy stopped, sniffing enthusiastically at the base of one of the railings, and Cat stopped to let her – there was nowhere she needed to be.

  She had already begun to recognize a few of the park’s regular visitors, and she could see Mr Jasper bustling close to the trees, head down, as if he’d just put up one of his protest signs and didn’t want to be spotted by any of the dog owners he despised. Cat felt her shoulders tense; she’d had enough of dog haters for one day and, while Alison was within her rights to protest about dogs in her nursery, Cat couldn’t understand how Mr Jasper could ever think that getting rid of dogs from the park was a possibility.

  A tennis ball landed heavily inside the railings, and Disco yapped loudly as a glossy border collie raced up to find it. The larger dog stuck its shiny black nose through the bars to greet Disco. Cat crouched and stroked the dog’s muzzle, then looked up to see someone watching her. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a mass of dark brown, untamed hair. He had sharp, handsome features, and even from a distance Cat could feel the weight of his stare. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of a leather jacket, the collar turned up against the cold.

  The man continued to look steadily at her, not the dog – which she presumed was his – and Cat realized she was holding her breath.

  Then Disco barked, sank her teeth into the sleeve of Cat’s purple jacket, and pulled. ‘Sorry, Disco,’ she whispered. She carefully extracted the puppy’s jaw, and when she looked up the man was striding away from her. He whistled, and the collie picked up the tennis ball and raced after him. Cat watched him go. ‘Was that weird, puppy, or was that me making something out of nothing?’ Disco wagged her tail. ‘That’s what I thought.’

  She was still thinking about the strange near-encounter when they turned into her road.

  Primrose Terrace was an elegant crescent moon of tall, stately town houses, some in better repair than others, but all with their own charm. Each of the houses was painted a different pastel colour, their large front doors raised up from the pavement, reached by three wide front steps. The grass verges were peppered with primroses in the spring, and old-style street lamps made Cat feel she was in a Dickens adaptation whenever there was a hint of fog.

  She’d moved from nearby Brighton just after Christmas to be closer to her friend Polly, further from the well-meaning prying of her parents, and to start as assistant at the nursery. Well, that had been short and not at all sweet, and Cat was suddenly jobless, directionless and desperate not to have to ask Joe for an extension on her rent so soon after she’d moved in. She tried not to let panic rise up inside her like champagne bubbles after the cork has been popped. She lived with Polly and Joe at number nine, and Elsie Willows, Chalky and Disco were at number ten; the street numbers running concurrently rather than odds and evens. Despite being smaller than many of the other houses, without the customary attic conversion, number ten Primrose Terrace was one of the prettiest. It was pale blue with gleaming white window frames emphasizing the large sash windows, the front door was pillar-box red and Elsie had placed pots of budding hydrangeas at the edges of the steps.

  Cat let Disco prance up ahead of her, then rang the bell. It took a long time for the door to open, and when Elsie stood in the doorway, leaning on a crutch, her short white bob, cardigan and long skirt as neatly presented as her house, Cat felt her cheeks redden.

  ‘It didn’t go as well as you’d hoped, then?’ Elsie said, looking at Cat’s face before opening the door wide and ushering Cat in, hobbling after her into the airy living room.

  Cat let Disco off the leash, and the puppy bounded to the basket under the window, where Chalky, Elsie’s older miniature schnauzer, was having a mid-morning nap. Disco nuzzled Chalky’s face, yipped and picked up a heavily chewed cuddly pig, then stood expectantly in front of the older dog. Chalky lifted his head, looked balefully at the puppy from under tufty eyebrows, and closed his eyes. Cat laughed, but Elsie was watching her expectantly.

  ‘No,’ Cat sighed, her smile fading. ‘It was even more disastrous than my worst-case scenarios.’

  ‘I told you that Alison wouldn’t stand for it.’

  ‘I had hoped she would come round to my way of thinking.’

  ‘That, Catherine, is a triumph of optimism over common sense, and I’m being kind.’

  Cat stroked Chalky and ruffled Disco’s fur. Elsie lowered herself slowly into an armchair.

  ‘I didn’t want Disco in the house while you went for your check-up,’ Cat said. ‘Puppies get lonely, and then they get disruptive.’ Just like me, she thought. ‘I was going to see what mood Alison was in and then, at break time, bring Disco out to meet the children.’

  ‘But you didn’t get that far?’

  Cat shook her head.

  ‘You know what Alison’s like,’ Elsie said, ‘and you know that dogs are her pet hate – no pun intended. She’s probably more upset that you actively went against her wishes, rather than for any disruption you – and my dog – may have caused. But I am sorry, because you were doing a favour for me.’

  ‘How was the check-up? I’m surprised you’re back already.’

  ‘Oh, it was fine.’ Elsie waved her hand dismissively. ‘The knee’s healing, but slowly. I have to stay off it as much as I can for another few weeks. Nothing I didn’t know already. What’s the damage to you? Suspended? Cut in wages?’

  ‘Fired,’ Cat said. ‘No second chances, no room for manoeuvre. Do you want some tea?’

  She left Elsie gawping in the living room and busied herself in the kitchen, making tea and finding chocolate biscuits. Her insides felt hollow with panic, but already, talking it through with Elsie, she was beginning to feel better. It had only taken four days for Cat to become friends with her neighbour once she’d moved to Primrose Terrace, and what Elsie didn’t know about Fairview wasn’t worth knowing. She’d gone into hospital for a long-awaited knee operation at the end of February, and Cat was helping out, taking Disco and Chalky for walks when she could, cooking for her sometimes, keeping her company.

  ‘I am so sorry, Cat,’ Elsie said when she returned with the tray. ‘I didn’t think she’d go that far.’

  Disco was on the sofa, performing a thorough hunt for any treasure that might be hidden between the cushions. Cat poured the tea and scooped the puppy onto her lap. Disco wriggled, licked Cat’s hand and settled down; a warm, breathing comfort blanket.

  ‘She was furious,’ Cat said. ‘It was a stupid idea, I know. But I just thought that once she’d met Disco she’d realize how wonderful dogs can be. I mean, how could anyone be annoyed at this little thing?’

  ‘Not everyone loves dogs, and some people actively dislike them. They can be smelly and messy and very badly behaved.’

  ‘Yes, but look.’ Disco was breathing softly, her small ears flopped over her eyes, her head resting on her front paws.

  ‘You don’t have to convince me,’ Elsie said, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be able to convince Alison either. Stop worrying about her – what’s done is done. You have to focus on yourself, and what you’re going to do now.’

  Cat stared out of the window, watching as the man from a few doors down walked past, wetsuit on, a surfboard under his arm. Cat thought it must be pretty cold in the water today, despite the sun. She stirred her tea.

  ‘Cat?’ Elsie prompted.

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘What are you going to do now that you have no job?’

  Cat saw the challenge in the older woman’s eyes and knew that she wouldn’t get away with feeling sorry for herself. ‘I have no idea,’ she said. She stared at her hands and noticed that the varnish on one of her nails, the one that was orange like a tangerine, had started to peel.

  ‘What about your old nursery? Would th
ey have you back?’ Elsie wouldn’t give up, that was one of the great things about her. Solutions must be found and agreed on, in this case before the sun would be allowed to set on them.

  Cat thought of the tiny nursery on a sloping hill overlooking the Brighton seafront. It had been energetic and spontaneous, and her ex-boyfriend Daniel, a teacher, had recommended her to the owners because of her creativity. It had been all the things that Alison’s was not, and with its hippy attitude probably not a typical nursery. But Cat didn’t want to go backwards.

  ‘Yes, they would,’ she said. ‘But I moved here because I wanted to try a new view and new scenery and new people. I like Primrose Terrace, and I love living with Polly. I need to find something here.’

  ‘Right.’ Elsie stroked Disco’s fur. The puppy had transferred herself from Cat’s lap to Elsie’s and then conked out. ‘You’re very spirited,’ Elsie said. ‘You could set something up yourself, if that was a more appealing idea than shop work or waitressing in the short term.’

  Cat ran a hand back through her short hair. ‘I don’t have the patience for waitressing. And I don’t have my mum’s artistic talent so I can’t do greeting cards, or knitting, or making hats.’

  ‘What can you do?’ Elsie waved her hand away when Cat gave her a sharp look. ‘I don’t mean it like that – I know you’ve got a drama degree and that you’re qualified as a nursery assistant, but what can you do? What do you enjoy? What about Fairhaven theatre? I’m sure they’re looking for volunteers, even if it’s just front of house.’

  Cat laid her head against the sofa. ‘But I need to pay rent, and the problem with theatres is they never have any money. I could volunteer, but it would be years – maybe decades – before there was the possibility of paid work.’

  ‘So what else do you enjoy?’

  ‘Long baths, cooking – sometimes – fresh air, walking on the beach. I’m interested in people.’ She was beginning to run out of enthusiasm. The initial shock had worn off, and now all she wanted to do was to climb into one of those long baths and hide from her own stupidity.

  ‘That sounds like an online dating profile, and not a very original one.’

  ‘I can’t help it if I have the most boring CV,’ Cat said. ‘Fairly OK at most things, not exceptional at anything, good with pretending and children and animals – except that animals are Polly’s thing.’

  ‘Just because Polly’s training to be a veterinary nurse doesn’t mean you can’t. No misery, young lady. And it’s not a boring CV. You’ve had a blow – almost entirely of your own making – but a blow nonetheless. You’re bright and enthusiastic, you could do pretty much anything you put your mind to. What would you, Cat Palmer, like to do with your life? Take this as an opportunity.’

  Elsie sat forward and poured more tea. At the movement Disco sat up, her eyes alert, then jumped to her feet and knocked Elsie’s arm, causing her to pour tea over the remaining biscuits.

  ‘Rascal,’ Elsie chided gently.

  ‘But still adorable,’ Cat said. ‘More than anything, I’d like to spend time with Disco. I’d like to bury my head in her salt-and-pepper fur, take her for walks and watch TV with her on my lap. I could do that for the next few days at least, couldn’t I?’

  ‘You know you can borrow Disco any time you want. But I thought Joe wouldn’t let you have a dog in the house?’ Elsie frowned.

  ‘No,’ Cat said quietly, unexpelled emotion rising in her throat. ‘No, he won’t let me. He’s got a cat, so no dogs allowed, apparently. I’m sure if we found the right one they’d get along fine, but he’s adamant.’

  ‘He’s always seemed like a very pleasant young man to me, and I know people can be sensitive about their pets – often rightly – but I’m surprised he won’t let you have a dog.’

  ‘Sometimes he’s nice, but most of the time he’s a grumpy sod. But I love living with Polly, and I love being here, on Primrose Terrace, and I want to stay.’

  ‘Oh, chin up, don’t get all teary.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Cat swallowed and blinked. ‘It just seems like when one thing goes wrong, it magnifies all the other little niggles into giant, immovable barriers.’ Her voice wavered at the end.

  ‘That’s why you need to be proactive. Keep moving forward, and have another biscuit.’

  Cat looked at the plate, now swimming in tea. She shrugged and popped one in her mouth before it covered her hand in chocolate. ‘At least I can see Disco and Chalky, and I’ll still take them out twice a day while you’re getting back on your feet.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’

  ‘Lots of spring sunshine and your two perfect pooches is exactly what I need while I’m working out a plan.’ Cat clicked her fingers and Disco bounced across the carpet and started licking her wrist. Cat laughed as the dog’s whiskers tickled her hand.

  ‘You might be right.’ Elsie drummed her fingers against her lips, her gaze fixed on the thick verge of grass outside the window, where the primroses were just starting to peek through. ‘I think, Cat, that you may have come up with your own perfect solution.’

  Chapter 2

  ‘Dog walking? As a job?’

  ‘Yes, Polly. Taking other people’s dogs for walks. It’s a growing market – people who work all day, busy families, people like Elsie who might be temporarily unable to take their pets out. I bet there are loads of dog-owners out there who don’t even know it’s an option. Now it will be, because of me.’

  They were sitting on the over-squashy, faded blue sofas in the living room of number nine Primrose Terrace, sharing a bottle of wine. Polly had come back late from Fairview vet’s, where she was doing the work placement for her veterinary nursing degree, and had changed into blue cotton pyjamas, her bare feet up on the coffee table.

  ‘And you’re sure Alison won’t have you back at the nursery, even if you grovel?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go back, even if she grovelled. I don’t think it’s the right job for me, not in a conventional nursery, anyway. Elsie’s right, this is perfect. Between the beach and the park this must be a prime doggy neighbourhood, and I can’t think of anything I’d like more than spending time walking other people’s dogs.’

  Polly scrutinized her, her wide blue eyes unblinking in a way that Cat had almost got used to, despite the effect, along with her long blonde hair, being a bit Midwich Cuckoos. ‘I’m sure you can do it,’ she said slowly, ‘but there are lots of things to consider. Lots. How much you’ll charge, how many dogs you can walk at a time. Do the owners let their dogs have treats? If so, what kind and how often? Will you pick them all up from their houses? Will they get on with each other? And think of all the poo you’ll have to pick up. It won’t be a walk in the park.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘What, I – oh!’ Polly grinned. ‘It’s true though. I know you’ll think things through, but you can be…’

  ‘Impulsive, spontaneous?’

  ‘Excitable, a bit like a dog.’

  Cat threw a cushion at her. ‘I get that I need to think about it like a business, but I’m excited, Pol. As excited as I was about moving here, finally getting to live with you. I think I can do this, and at the very least I can test the water, see if anyone nearby would be interested in a dog walker – other than Elsie, of course.’

  ‘You won’t charge her, will you?’

  ‘I said I wouldn’t, but she insists on it. She’ll be my first client and I’ll give her a special OAP rate.’ Cat sipped her wine and beamed, feeling a swell of something like accomplishment, even though all they’d really done was come up with an idea, and the hard work was all ahead of her.

  ‘Well, I think it’s pretty inventive,’ Polly said. ‘Inspirational, almost.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. You may not have intended to leave your job today—’

  ‘Get booted out, you mean?’

  ‘But,’ Polly continued, holding up a finger, ‘this could be better. And you’ll have a nearly-trained veterinary nurse on hand, should anything
go hideously wrong.’

  ‘What’s going to go hideously wrong?’ Joe sloped into the room, sat next to Polly and poured himself a glass of red wine. He was in his usual work outfit of jeans and a hoody, the current one navy with an orange goldfish on the front, his short hair sticking up in unruly tufts as if his day had involved a lot of head scratching.

  ‘There’s a tsunami heading towards Fairview beach. Think of the carnage it’s going to cause.’

  Joe sat up, almost spilling his wine. ‘What? Who said anything about a tsunami?’

  ‘Calm down,’ Polly said, pushing gently against his chest. ‘Cat was having you on. No tsunami.’

  ‘Right.’ Joe glared at Cat and she grinned. Joe and Polly could almost be twins. They were both blonde haired and blue eyed, Polly’s frame almost as slender as a boy’s, but Joe’s blond was more strawberry than ash, and Cat had never found him unnerving, only annoying. ‘So what’s going to go wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘Cat’s new business venture – except it’s not, but if it does, then I’ll be on hand.’

  ‘To offer moral support?’ Joe noticed Polly’s feet up on the coffee table, and gently nudged them onto the floor.

  ‘To provide medical assistance.’

  ‘Are we going back to the tsunami? Why would you need medical assistance? Do your techniques work on people as well as animals?’ Joe rubbed his forehead.

  ‘Not for the people, silly,’ Polly said, ‘for the dogs.’

  ‘Dogs?’ Joe sat up again, this time keeping careful control of his wine. ‘What dogs?’ There was an edge of panic in his voice that Cat might have found amusing, except that it was his aversion to dogs that was stopping her from having one of her own at Primrose Terrace.