by Matt Dunn
“That’s strange,” she says, holding her phone to her ear. When I give her an inquiring head tilt, she frowns. “Dad’s not picking up.” Then, with a slightly panicky, “Come on, Doug,” Julie changes direction, and we head off toward his house.
It’s a five or so minutes’ walk from where Julie and I live, though Julie seems a little anxious to get there, and while I’ve been trying to conserve my energy for tomorrow’s Barkrun, she seems keen to cover the distance in maybe half that time.
Her hands are shaking as she retrieves the spare key her dad keeps underneath the large flowerpot to the left of the door for emergencies. Evidently, she fears this is one, so instead of knocking, she uses the key to let us in. The television’s on in the front room—a nature documentary—though no one’s watching, a fact that makes Julie’s panic level increase somewhat.
“Dad?” she stage-whispers, then she checks the kitchen and peers out into the back garden, but there’s no sign of him.
Apprehensively, she reaches down and unfastens my leash from my collar. “Where’s Dad, Doug?” she says to me, and I stare blankly back at her for a moment, until I realize she’s asking me to do my “thing” and locate him for her.
I snort, then hunker down a little and sniff the carpet—more for effect, really, as I can hear movement and it’s coming from upstairs—so I pad along the hall, stop at the bottom of the staircase, and rest a paw on the bottom step.
“Go on, Doug,” says Julie. “Find him.” Then she nods up the stairs, obviously expecting me to go first. But the noises I can hear sound a little like a fight, and my imagination is running riot. The last thing I want to do is go up and confront whoever’s up there. Then another somewhat familiar smell floats into my nostrils, and I reframe the scene in my mind and relax a little. I’m still reluctant to go upstairs, though, given what I’m envisioning is actually taking place in the bedroom. But Julie doesn’t give me the option. She sweeps me up from the floor and, holding me out in front of her like a firearm, begins tiptoeing up the steps toward the second-floor landing.
“Come on, Doug,” she says, possibly more to reassure herself than me, though I start to wriggle in her arms: If I’m right, then this is something I can do without seeing, and I’m pretty sure Julie would say the same thing.
My fears are confirmed when we reach the landing and with a tentative “Dad?” Julie pushes open his bedroom door, then lets out a scream that hurts my ears more than last week’s stitches removal. Because Julie’s (naked) dad is lying on his back in bed, and straddling him, wrapped in a sheet, is someone we both know well.
“Oh. Hello, Julie, love,” says Dot.
* * *
Dot’s in the kitchen, making lunch, though Julie’s rather curtly turned down her invitation for us to join them. She’s wearing Julie’s dad’s dressing gown, which means Julie’s dad’s sitting in the lounge swathed in the sheet Dot was wearing earlier. He’s fashioned it into a makeshift toga to avoid any lapses of modesty, and looks like an extra from Gladiator.
To be honest, it’s hard to tell who’s the more embarrassed, though maybe it’s Dot, because she’s—perhaps quite sensibly—staying out of the conversation. I’m not surprised by it all, of course: the way Dot leaped at Julie’s dad’s offer of a walk by the river the other day, and their subsequent body language on that walk, was something I was watching very closely as I chaperoned them in the hope that I might get some pointers for Julie and Tom. But now I can see that this is an excellent development—after all, Luke’s out of the picture, Priya and Sanj are a couple, so now with Julie’s dad and Dot an item, Julie will have no choice but to go out with Tom, if she doesn’t want to be the odd one (not going) out.
“Love...” says Julie’s dad, just as Julie says, “Listen, Dad,” so they both stop talking, then Julie says, “You first,” just as Julie’s dad says, “After you,” which makes them both clam up again.
They sit in silence for a moment or two, each waiting for the other to say something, then both of them smile at the notion that neither of them is saying anything. Then, finally, they both say, “So...” at exactly the same time, just as Dot brings in a tray with three mugs of tea and a packet of biscuits on it.
She takes one look at the two of them, picks her mug up, and heads smartly back into the kitchen. Julie’s dad waits until he hears the kitchen door shut, then he exhales loudly. “I’m sorry, love,” he says, much to Julie’s evident incredulity.
“What are you sorry for?”
Julie’s dad’s cheeks darken. “For what you just saw, obviously.”
Julie holds a hand up. “Hey, I’m sorry I saw that too. Although that’s all I’m sorry about—apart from walking in on you unannounced. But you weren’t answering your phone, and I thought something had happened to you!”
“Something has happened to me, love,” says Julie’s dad, glancing adoringly at the kitchen door. “Dot’s...” He angles his head, a bit like I do when I’m trying to work something out. “She makes me feel alive. Plus she’s just so...well...easy...”
From the kitchen, there’s a crash of a teaspoon being dropped into the sink. “Hey!” shouts Dot, good-naturedly, and Julie’s dad’s cheeks darken again.
“Going, I was about to add,” he says, laughing.
“Well recovered!” says Dot, cracking the door open briefly.
“Dad, please,” says Julie, sounding simultaneously pleased and repulsed.
“I mean, obviously I feel a bit guilty, given how...”
Julie reaches over and grabs his hand. “Dad, you shouldn’t. Mum’s been gone for five years. And you deserve to be happy.”
“Oh. Right. Yes, there’s that too, obviously, but I did some thinking, and decided that I should maybe take a leaf out of Doug’s book.” Julie’s dad reaches down and covers my ears. “Remember how miserable he was at the rescue center? What had happened to him? He hasn’t let that hold him back. And he’s as happy as Larry now.” He removes his hands, and scratches me under my chin. “Besides, that’s not what I feel guilty about.”
“It’s not?”
“It’s more...” Julie’s dad looks down at me again, perhaps hoping I’ll chip in, but the best I can do is give him an encouraging twitch of the tail. “What with Dot being Tom’s mother, and all that.”
Julie’s mouth drops open. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“Well, it might make things a little awkward.”
Julie raises both eyebrows. “As opposed to how they are right now?”
“I meant for you and Tom.”
Julie sighs exasperatedly. “There is no me and Tom, Dad.”
“And whose fault is that?” asks Julie’s dad.
While he probably meant “Luke’s,” that doesn’t stop Julie from giving him an astonished look. “Why is everyone so desperate to fix me up with...?” Julie’s dad’s pointing frantically at the kitchen door, perhaps to remind Julie again that Dot’s Tom’s mother, and that she should be careful what she says.
Julie lowers her voice. “First Priya, now you. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion even Doug’s in on this somehow.”
The two of them turn to look at me, but I just keep my gaze fixed on the table where the biscuits are, so as not to give the game away.
“Doug’s a good judge of character,” says Julie’s dad, picking his mug of tea up, blowing across the top, and taking a tentative sip.
“You want me to go out with someone based on the endorsement of a dog?”
“You could do worse,” says Julie’s dad, reaching for the biscuits.
“Than Tom? Or to take Doug’s recommendation?”
“Both!” says Julie’s dad with a smile, though he sounds completely serious.
He picks up a shortbread finger and snaps off a bite-size piece. Before he can feed it to me, Julie lets out an exasperated sigh so loud that Dot can probably hear
it from where she’s no doubt listening in from the kitchen, a fact proven by how she cracks the door open again.
“Love, are you sure you don’t want...” she begins, but Julie holds both hands up.
“Will you all please just stop trying to interfere!” Julie says, enunciating each word for extra effect. Then she leaps up from her chair, scoops me up from the floor, and marches back out through the front door.
“To stay for lunch?” Dot calls after her, though I’m not sure Julie’s listening.
I’m starting to worry that that’s becoming a common affliction.
25
It’s Sunday, and apparently my birthday. While I react excitedly to Julie’s slightly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday” by sprinting excitedly to all four corners of the room with my favorite squeaky chew toy in my mouth, to be honest, I’m pretty ambivalent about hitting the big three-five.
At least I’m not upset about it, I suppose, like Julie was when she turned the same age last year. So upset, in fact, that Priya had to almost drag her out, and then virtually carry her home, complaining drunkenly that her life was over. And even though we still have to go to Barkrun this morning, the best present I can think of is for Julie to ask Tom to her work party.
The doorbell rings just as we’re on our way out to the park, and to the surprise of both of us, it’s Priya. “Morning, Jules!” she says, pushing her way in without waiting for an invitation. She scoops me up from the floor and plants a kiss on my forehead. “And happy birthday, Doug!”
I shake my head in response and do my best to lick her on the nose, which sets Priya off into fits of giggles. She’s dressed in her workout gear, and Julie’s eyeing her suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” she says. “And so early?”
“I, um, wanted to wish Doug a happy birthday...” says Priya, evasively.
“Oh-kay,” says Julie. “And are you on your way to the gym, or...?”
“Not exactly.” Priya places me back on the floor. “Thought I might come along to—what was it—‘Barkrun’?”
“Pets-ercise,” says Julie. “But...”
“But what?”
“You kind of need a pet. To be there. Clue’s in the name.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really!”
“We can go fifty-fifty on Doug.”
“P...”
“Come on, Jules. I just fancied a workout.”
“It’s not really meant to be a workout for us. It’s for...” Julie nods down at me. “Them.”
“Even so,” says Priya. “I could say I’m checking it out. Seeing whether it’s suitable for my dog.”
“You don’t have a dog.”
“Well, maybe I’m thinking of getting one. Besides, Tom doesn’t need to know that.”
Julie widens her eyes. “So that’s what this is about. Or rather, who.”
“What?” says Priya, as innocently as she can muster, which isn’t all that innocently at all.
“You’re planning to...” She lowers her voice, probably for my benefit, given the next word that comes out of her mouth. “Vet Tom. For me.”
Priya holds both hands up. “Listen, Jules. You need a plus-one for your party. He’s obviously interested in you. You said it yourself. For some reason, you don’t seem that interested in him. So I thought you might benefit from a second opinion. That’s all.”
“I don’t need a second opinion. I’m quite capable of making my own mind up when it comes to the suitability of the men in my...”
Julie stops talking and Priya gives her a look, then she grabs her by the hand and leads her out through the front door. After all, we all know the veracity of that last statement.
* * *
It’s a chilly morning, but that hasn’t deterred the assembled dog owners, and in fact, some of the women seem to be wearing even skimpier outfits than last week, perhaps in an attempt to garner Tom’s attention and counter any favoritism toward Julie and me. Julie, however, in stark contrast to last week’s outfit, is wrapped up in her old, shapeless jogging ensemble. As Priya strips down to something she informs Julie is the latest “Sweaty Betty,” Tom jogs over to where we’re standing.
“Great!”
“What is?” says Julie.
“To see you. In that you came! Back, I mean!”
Julie sighs. “Couldn’t stay away,” she says, though in a tone that suggests she’d rather have.
“Great!” says Tom, a tad less enthusiastically than a moment ago. “And you look... I mean, have you done something with your...” He reaches a hand out toward Julie’s hair, then evidently thinks better of it. “Hey, Doug,” he says, bending down to check on my ear, and I give him an affable snort in response.
“Hi, Tom!” announces Priya, who’s looking a little put out that Julie hasn’t introduced her. “I’m Priya. Julie’s best friend. Well, obviously not best friend in the sense of, you know...” She nods down at me, then grabs Tom’s hand and pumps it up and down. “Ooh. Firm grip!” She gives Julie the side-eye, then beams at Tom. “Julie’s told me all about you!”
“She has?” says Tom, looking about as surprised as Julie is embarrassed.
“Well, not all about you, obviously. Just that you’re a vet, and recently divorced, and...” She grins. “Well, that, really. And how you run these classes. For dogs. So I thought I’d come and check you...I mean, them out. Not that I’m a dog!” She throws her head back and erupts into peals of laughter at this so loudly that Tom takes half a step backward.
“Great,” he says, for a third time, reaching a new level of un-enthusiasm. “Although...”
“Although?”
“You kind of need one. A dog. To take part.” He indicates the rest of the group, then peers pointedly at the patch of ground Priya’s standing on. “And I can’t see...”
“No. And you’re right. I don’t have one. Well spotted. You are a good vet! But, if I did, and he got fat—no offense, Doug—I’d want somewhere to take it, so I thought... Well, forewarned is forearmed, and all that.”
“Right.” Tom’s looking like he’s wishing Julie had forewarned him about Priya. “Well, if you like, you can observe from that bench.”
Priya nods toward the obstacle course. “So I can’t join in?”
“I’m not sure you’d be able to fit through the tunnel,” says Julie, and Priya roars with laughter again.
“That’s so funny!” She nudges Tom. “She’s so funny. Great sense of humor. And a good cook, too...”
Tom and Julie exchange awkward glances, and Priya clamps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll go and sit down. You have fun now. But take it easy on poor old Doug this morning. What with it being his birthday, and everything.”
Tom widens his eyes. “It’s Doug’s birthday?”
“Five years old today,” says Julie, then she mimes a muted “yay!” and Tom hesitates for a moment as if considering whether wishing me a happy birthday is something a little unprofessional for someone in his line of work. Then he evidently thinks, What the hell?
“Many happy returns, Doug,” he says, reaching down to give me a chest rub. “Though I’m not sure taking him out to an exercise class is his preferred birthday activity.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” says Priya. “He’s having a birthday party later to make up for it.”
“He is?” says Julie, and Priya nods.
“He is! Three p.m. At Julie’s house. Cake, the works!”
I look up at Julie. She’s looking a little anxious. Probably because she, like me, knows exactly what Priya’s going to say next.
“In fact,” says Priya, “you should come.”
“What?” says Julie, though before Tom can say anything, Priya’s grabbed him by the arm.
“We won’t take no for an answer. Will we, Jules?”
Julie’s looking like actually, she will and quite happily, but Priya sounds insistent. Besides, judging by Tom’s expression, it looks like no isn’t going to be his answer anyway.
“In that case, I’d love to!” he says, smiling broadly.
26
It’s the aforementioned “three p.m.,” and Julie still hasn’t forgiven Priya for a) conjuring up a birthday party for me out of thin air for the apparent purpose of inviting Tom and b) inviting Tom. Perhaps that’s not surprising, given how “it’s for your own good” never seems to be a phrase that makes anyone feel better about anything that’s been imposed upon them. But the bottle of wine the two of them have shared while putting hastily-purchased chips into bowls and arranging corner-shop cupcakes on plates has eased the tension somewhat.
Priya’s somehow miraculously convinced Julie she needs to flirt with Tom a little, just to see how it feels, and more importantly, to see whether she can get him to agree to come to her work party. And while I suspect that Tom would go with her to anything she asked, Julie doesn’t seem to share my confidence.
Today’s birthday guest list consists of me, Julie, Priya, Julie’s dad and Dot (to make up numbers, I suspect, so Tom doesn’t think it’s been set up just for him), and of course Tom. It’s small, but given the limited party food the corner shop was able to supply, that’s probably a good thing.
What’s not a good thing, however, is the silly, pointy party hat that Julie has just elastically-fastened onto my head and that resembles a smaller, upside-down version of the cone I had to wear the other week. As if on cue the doorbell rings, so I scamper along the hall to welcome whoever it is—Julie’s dad, by the smell of it, a fact confirmed when Julie throws open the door. He’s holding Dot’s hand—though he quickly lets go of it when Julie raises her eyebrows at him.
“Happy birthday, Doug!” says Julie’s dad, reaching down to massage the loose skin in the middle of my back in the way that I like, before hauling himself back upright to give Julie a kiss on the top of her head. “Not doing so badly for thirty-five!”