The Country Village Christmas Show

by Cathy Lake

  Why not twenty?

  She was lost in a reverie about how slim and toned she’d be, about how people she hadn’t seen in years would comment on how she didn’t look forty-five at all, how she could easily pass for thirty, and how Kyle would tell his father when they Skyped that Mum was looking better than ever, when the lead went slack and she realised that Goliath wasn’t at the end of it anymore.

  ‘Shit!’ She pulled the lead towards her and stared in shock at the clip. How had it come off his collar? Hadn’t she fastened it properly? ‘Goliath?’ she called faintly as she scanned her surroundings, hoping to spot him nearby.

  She started to walk along the path, her head darting from side to side, hoping that she’d see him, hoping that he was in the long grass sniffing something he’d found or weeing on a tree or –

  ‘Goliath!’

  He was. Up ahead in a small clearing where the path branched out in four directions, each one marked by a signpost, hunched over in a strange position. Horrified, Clare realised that he was doing a poo. A steaming smelly pile that she was going to have to pick up!

  She dug her hands in her pockets, praying she’d find something to use, but apart from a small plastic bag holding two spare buttons, there was nothing. She glanced around and there was no one about, no one to ask for a poo bag and no one to see that she hadn’t picked up what was, without a doubt, the biggest poo she had ever seen.

  She approached the dog slowly, a hand extended, hoping to catch him before he finished so she could reattach the lead to his collar, but at that moment he jumped up and jogged away.

  Clare stared at the revolting pile then after Goliath, knowing that she had to make a decision – and fast. It was guard the poo or catch the dog. Right, she could grab Goliath first then decide how to deal with the poo, so she headed in his direction.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ She whirled around to see a very tall man glaring at her. At the end of the lead he was holding was a yellow Labrador, its long tail swishing.

  ‘Uh . . . I’m having a bit of a . . . a difficulty.’

  ‘A difficulty? Is that what you call it?’ His thick dark brows met above his nose. ‘What are you going to do about that poo? Were you going to leave it there for some poor walker to step in or for another dog to walk through then tread into the carpets at home?’

  Clare tensed. This man seemed furious with her and shame crawled over her skin like red ants.

  ‘No, I wasn’t, I swear! I was just . . . see, I was walking –’

  ‘Is that Elaine Hughes’ dog?’ He peered over Clare’s shoulder and she turned and followed his gaze. Goliath was trotting back towards them as casually as if he’d just popped to the corner shop for milk.

  ‘Yes.’ Clare nodded. ‘Come here, Goliath!’ Her voice wavered and she cursed herself for sounding weak.

  The dog jogged straight past her and towards the angry man.

  ‘Hello, Goliath. What have you been up to, boy?’

  As the man smoothed his long fingers over Goliath’s head, the dog leant against him as if they were old friends.

  ‘I know this looks bad . . .’ Clare felt the need to explain because this man was clearly a local who knew Goliath and presumably her mum, so she didn’t want him getting the wrong impression of her. ‘But this is the first time I’ve taken him out and I completely forgot to bring any poo bags. I was horrified when he managed to get off his lead then he did a poo, and . . .’ She held out her hands. ‘I’m not very experienced at this dog-walking lark.’

  He raised his eyes to meet hers and she had to swallow a gasp because they were so furious. Why was she so warm? She unzipped her jacket and opened it a bit to let the air get to her throat. Oh God, was this one of those hot flushes that came with the menopause? Was that going to happen now as well?

  ‘Firstly, I can see that; secondly, it’s not a lark. You should always ensure that you’ve fastened his lead properly and you must always have poo bags with you. Did you know that you can get fined for leaving poo on the ground? Not to mention what happens to the person or animal that has the misfortune to step in it. Utterly irresponsible behaviour like that really winds me up!’

  He shook his head and Clare felt something else rising inside her. It spread from her core and made her press her lips together hard in case she said something she would later regret. She had to remember that she wanted to get on with the locals, not fling insults at them because they clearly had their own issues, like this very bad-mannered man. She had tried to explain what had happened and he clearly did not want to know. He was probably a complete chauvinist who enjoyed catching out unsuspecting female dog walkers who forgot to bring poo bags. It probably gave him a superiority complex. Yes, that was it. He made a habit of this and –

  ‘Here.’ He held out a hand and she stared at it. Did he want to shake hands? ‘Give me his lead.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ She passed it to him and he clipped it to Goliath’s collar then checked it. ‘It’s fastened properly now but this lead is old so it would be worth investing in a new one soon.’

  ‘OK, I’ll do that.’

  She took the lead when he offered it, then turned to go.

  ‘Wait!’

  She froze, wondering what else he was going to berate her for.

  ‘You need to pick up that poo.’

  Dammit! She’d forgotten for a moment.

  ‘What with?’ She could hear the shock in her tone, and he must have too because he started to laugh. It was a low deep rumble and, as he laughed, his whole face lit up. He was enjoying this interaction.

  What a git!

  When he’d finally stopped laughing, then wiped at his eyes with his thumbs, he pulled a handful of poo bags from his jacket pocket.

  ‘Take these.’ She looked at them as if suspicious of an ulterior motive. ‘They’re biodegradable ones. I have plenty.’ He pressed the bags into her hand.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. And can I offer a helpful tip?’ Clare nodded. ‘Next time, make sure you’ve got plenty. A dog that size could take two or three bags per poo.’

  ‘What do I do with it once I’ve picked it up? I haven’t seen any bins.’

  ‘There are bins around the walks, specifically for dog waste. They’re easy to spot, so once you’ve picked the poo up in a bag, carry it until you find a bin.’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded, then she crouched down to pick up the poo, grimacing and not just at the smell. She tried to grab it with the bag without looking at it but kept missing bits, so instead she peered at it through half-closed eyes. When she stood up again, the heavy poo bag dangling from between her finger and thumb, she remembered that she hadn’t introduced herself. ‘I’m –’

  But he was already walking away, clearly not interested in making her acquaintance, and every bit as rude as she had thought him to be initially. She watched him go, his broad shoulders encased in a dark grey wax jacket, his long legs in faded denim and his worn boots suggesting he walked a lot. He looked as if he fitted in around here. Clare had a sinking feeling that though she was dressed up to look the part, she’d failed at the first hurdle.

  She shook her head and shrugged. What did it matter? She wasn’t staying long anyway.

  Goliath whined, then pulled on his lead as if he wanted to go with the man.

  ‘No, boy, you’re staying right here with me. I can’t believe you gave me the slip and let me forget poo bags!’

  She smiled as she rubbed his head. Yes, she knew that she was to blame but it was easier, and better for her self-esteem, to blame the dog.

  ‘Let’s find a bin and head home. I, for one, have had enough excitement for one day.’

  Sam strode along the path, keen to get home. Scout ran on ahead now that he’d unclipped her lead, pausing every so often to turn and check that he was still behind her. Her training meant that she’d never run off or too far ahead. She wasn’t judging him for how he’d just behaved, but he was certainly j
udging himself.

  If only he could take back the past thirty minutes, rewind and start again. But his mind just kept replaying what had happened when he’d encountered that woman in the woods and how he’d reacted. Or overreacted. He’d accused her of planning on abandoning Goliath’s poo when he could see now that she had needed to grab the dog first. But if he was being completely honest with himself, it hadn’t even been that. He’d been thinking about Alyssa, worrying about her, and he’d taken his tension out on that poor woman. There had been a time when he hadn’t felt so weighed down by everything, when the responsibility for Alyssa and her well-being hadn’t rested entirely on his shoulders and he knew he would never have attacked a stranger like that, never have inflicted his own irritation and stress on someone else.

  The strangest thing about this afternoon was how he had then laughed in the presence of that woman, who he was now thinking might well be Elaine Hughes’ daughter, as if his body had needed to release his tension through anger or laughter.

  He’d better clear his head before heading home, or Alyssa would spot that there was something different about him and likely try to tease it out of him as she always did and he didn’t feel like discussing his shameful behaviour right now. His sister always knew if Sam had had a bad day, a strange day or a good day and could tell by the way he opened the front door which it was. His mother had been the same. She could read Sam and his father like books. His father had often joked that he couldn’t do a thing without his wife knowing about it, but he’d always said it with a smile and Sam had known that his parents were still very much in love. They had been lucky: they had found each other and fallen hard. Sam wasn’t convinced that many people found that type of enduring love. Not that he was looking for it. He didn’t have time for love or a relationship, he had the practice and Alyssa to consider, and no woman could ever come before those two things so there was little chance of him finding someone willing to come third on his list of priorities, fourth if you included Scout.

  He called Scout back and clipped her lead on, then something occurred to him: Goliath was overdue for his OAP health check, something that they offered all the dogs on their books once they reached a certain age. He should have come in for his check about six months ago, but Elaine had been remiss in making the appointment. Come to think of it, Sam couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her at the surgery, unless she’d come in when Miranda had been working and he’d been off.

  He decided to check when he went back to work later. If he didn’t, it would play on his mind. So, if he was right and Goliath’s check-up was overdue, he would phone Elaine. He hoped it had just slipped her mind and that it was nothing more, but now he was worried about her too. Perhaps Elaine wasn’t feeling well and had enlisted someone to help her with the large dog.

  Besides which, if that really was Elaine’s daughter and she had returned to the village to stay, then she might just answer the phone and he could apologise, something he knew he was going to need to do.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Clare? Is that really you?’

  Clare looked up, peering through her swollen eyelids. She had been limping home to her mum’s, trying hard to keep hold of Goliath’s lead while not putting too much weight on her right ankle, which she suspected was sprained.

  She’d found one of the poo bins that the rude man had mentioned and deposited Goliath’s waste in it, trying hard to do so with just one hand as she held onto the lead, when something had caught Goliath’s attention and the next thing she knew the lead had been tugged hard and they’d been off. At first, she’d managed to run behind him, but as he sped up, her running had turned into a form of skiing through mud as he left the path, then she’d lost her balance and been dragged along like a sledge. Goliath was so strong that he hadn’t seemed to notice her weight at the end of the lead and it was only the fact that what he’d been chasing – a squirrel – had shot up a tree and the dog had been unable to follow that had stopped him. Clare’s ankle had twisted during the initial run and then she’d been dragged through something in the undergrowth that had caused her eyelids to swell. She’d also bruised a rib on a rock. What a mess she must look!

  ‘Hello?’ she croaked, her voice strained from screaming at Goliath to stop running.

  ‘What happened to you?’ The woman came closer and placed a hand on Clare’s arm.

  ‘Oh . . . long story and all to do with my mum’s dog.’

  ‘You poor thing.’ The woman tilted her head then smiled. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  Clare blinked hard then looked at the woman again. Her long blonde hair fell in shiny waves to her shoulders, looking as if it had just been blow-dried. Her eyes were as blue as a summer sky and her skin glowed with health. In a white faux-fur coat over a black polo neck and a short black skirt with thick tights and knee-high brown boots, she was incredibly glamorous and pin-thin.

  ‘Jenny?’ Clare shook her head. ‘Is it really you? You look incredible!’

  ‘Yes, it’s me!’ Jenny opened her arms then seemed to think better of it. ‘I would hug you, darling, but you’re a bit . . .’

  She gestured at Clare’s clothing, which was covered in mud, leaves and, she suspected, fox poo.

  ‘Muddy? Dirty? Stinky?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart. But . . . Oh, it’s so good to see you. Are you here for long or is it a flying visit?’

  Clare pushed her tongue into her cheek, testing how tender it felt. ‘Umm . . . I’m not sure really. Not long, I hope, just until I get back on my feet.’

  Jenny grimaced.

  ‘I know, I don’t look as if I’m getting back on my feet, do I? But well . . . this was just today.’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Jenny asked. ‘Apart from your current physical state, I mean.’

  ‘Not really, but it’s a long story. How about you?’

  ‘We’re all good, thanks: me, Martin and the girls.’

  ‘How old are Tilda and Lizzy now?’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘Wow! I can’t believe it.’

  ‘How are Kyle and Jason?’

  ‘Oh, Kyle’s great. Twenty-one now.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s flown. But Jason . . . we’ve divorced.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Clare.’

  ‘It’s OK. One of those things.’ She shrugged then gasped as pain pierced her side.

  ‘Do you need to go to A & E?’

  ‘No, no, I’ll be fine. It’s just a few bruises and scratches . . .’

  ‘You’re bleeding.’ Jenny gestured at Clare’s knees, so Clare looked down and gasped. The knees of her jeans were torn, her skin grazed and bloody.

  ‘Oh no! I loved those jeans.’

  ‘They might sew?’ Jenny suggested, but Clare knew they were beyond repair.

  ‘Ah well.’ Clare tried to affect a nonchalant air, but she felt like crying. ‘It’s trendy now to have big holes in your jeans, isn’t it?’

  ‘My twins definitely think so.’ Jenny nodded. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Goliath saw a squirrel and took me on a sprint. Unfortunately, I lost my balance and got dragged along behind him. It was like a form of medieval torture – but at least I wasn’t hung and quartered. Although . . .’ She rubbed at her tender stomach. ‘I think he gave it his best shot.’

  ‘He’s a big dog. I have no idea how your mum walks him, but saying that, I haven’t seen her out with him for a while.’ Jenny frowned. ‘Anyway, seeing as how you’re here, do you fancy getting a coffee and having a proper catch-up? We could meet later or tomorrow.’

  ‘I would love that, Jenny.’ Clare nodded, secretly delighted to have run into this woman who used to be her closest friend. ‘Tomorrow would be great. Shall we swap numbers?’

  When Clare had tucked her phone back into the inside pocket of her coat, she smiled at Jenny.

  ‘So, text me later and let me know what time suits you. I’m pretty much free anytime at the moment, although I think I might have to get my
ankle checked after all.’ The thought of having to go to the GP or spending hours in A & E did not appeal at all.

  ‘Hopefully some ice or a bag of frozen peas will sort it out. Do you want a hand getting home?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine thanks, Jenny. It was lovely to see you and I look forward to catching up properly over coffee and cake.’

  ‘Wonderful! Ta-ta for now!’ Jenny gingerly kissed the air either side of Clare’s cheeks, then headed in the opposite direction, leaving behind a trace of expensive perfume and hairspray. Perhaps she had just come from getting her hair done at the village salon. Or did she still work there? Clare couldn’t remember.

  She crossed the road and limped towards her mum’s driveway, glad that she was almost home. Every part of her seemed to ache more the closer she got and she was looking forward to a hot bath more than she could ever remember doing her whole life.

  ‘What on earth happened?’ Clare’s mum stared at her as she entered the kitchen. ‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge by your hair.’

  ‘Something like that.’ Clare nodded, wincing at the discomfort it caused just to move. ‘Goliath spotted a squirrel and took off after it.’

  ‘He didn’t drag you after him, did he?’

  ‘Yes.’ Clare unclipped his collar from the lead then slid the lead off her wrist and rubbed at the tender flesh.

  ‘Oh, Clare, look at your poor skin.’ Her mum took her hand and examined where the lead had dug in. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up and get something on those eyes.’

  ‘To be honest, Mum, I’d like to get straight in the bath if you don’t mind. My jeans are ruined and my coat needs a wash.’

  ‘Goliath, you are a naughty boy.’ Elaine shook a finger at the dog and he whined.

  ‘It’s not his fault, really. I just didn’t have control of him.’

  ‘He’s very strong.’ Her mum nodded severely at the dog. ‘On your bed, Goliath!’