The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  But he’d already changed the subject. ‘OK, one bowl of water, shaken not stirred, coming up for the little lady with the black furry coat,’ he said, walking back to the kitchen. I laughed and shook off my concern. Surely he and Dan were fine and he’d just been joking as usual. Apart from anything else, if they ever decided to split up, which of them would keep Missy? They both adored her.

  When I finally walked home with Prudence it was the middle of the afternoon, and I was surprised to realise I’d chatted to more people than usual that day, especially for a Wednesday. My days off were often quite solitary. Although I knew a lot of people in Pennycombe Bay, I couldn’t have called many of them particularly close friends – and that was my own fault, just as much as my dismal dating record was. Sure, I chatted to people, I even managed to smile and laugh at their jokes, but I was never completely comfortable and easy, apart perhaps from when I was with Jim at work, or at home with Ruth. Despite her high-handed attitude to me these days, she was my cousin after all, and she’d known me all my life. Even when I looked back over my days at school and college, I couldn’t really think of anyone who’d been a special friend. I wouldn’t say I was particularly unpopular. Just … not really noticed by anyone.

  But I thought a lot about Kevin and Dan, on my way home that day. I really liked them both, and I was quite touched by the fact that Kevin had tried to confide in me today. It was nice that he seemed to think of me as a friend. I resolved to make a point of asking him, the next time I saw him, whether he was feeling any happier about their relationship. However awkward and uncomfortable I felt talking to people about personal matters like this, I knew I really must make the effort if I wanted to have real friends.

  That evening, Ruth arrived home earlier than usual. I’d just changed into my swimming costume, planning to go for a swim while the sea was still warm.

  ‘Taking the dog out?’ she asked when she saw me putting my shoes on.

  Prudence was always just the dog to Ruth.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m going for a swim. It’s turned out to be such a lovely evening.’

  I never took Pru with me when I swam in the sea. I knew she’d enjoy it, but I liked to go out past the surf, to the deeper water where I could swim properly, and I wouldn’t have been able to keep an eye on her.

  Ruth looked at me for a moment.

  ‘Mind if I come too?’ she said, to my surprise. It was said in a casual manner, as if she didn’t really care one way or the other but was half expecting me to refuse. But I was pleased. It wasn’t often we did anything fun together these days.

  ‘That’d be nice,’ I said. ‘I’ll wait while you get changed.’

  We walked down to the beach together, making small talk about her day at work, my morning with Vera, and how the weather had changed for the better. As I’d expected, the beach had largely emptied out by now and after dumping our clothes in a pile by the breakwater we ran into the waves together, squealing like kids. I felt stupidly happy that she’d chosen to come with me, and a rush of warmth for her. She wasn’t all bad, of course. We still had some good times together, like we always used to, reminding me why I’d been happy to move in with her in the first place. I decided I should try to be more understanding. Everyone had their bad moods from time to time, especially when they had to work as hard and long as Ruth did, but when we came to the beach together like this, or sat in the garden on a nice warm Sunday, with our feet up, enjoying a chat in the sunshine – then I was always pleased to discover that our old easy companionship was still there.

  It wasn’t until we collapsed back onto the sand after our swim, hoping that the dwindling heat of the sun would dry us off a bit, that I found out she’d had an ulterior motive for this little time of togetherness.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you,’ she said, her tone slightly edgy. ‘And there’s never really an opportunity. You’re always busy with the dog.’

  I wanted to say that this was hardly fair. If there really weren’t enough opportunities for us to talk, recently, it was mostly because she was usually either at work or spending time with Nick. But I sensed that there was some kind of complaint or criticism coming, so I kept quiet.

  ‘It’s about Nick,’ she went on, looking straight ahead at the sea rather than at me. ‘I want you to stop flirting with him. If you don’t—’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘If you don’t,’ she went on, ignoring my squawk of amazement and still not looking at me, ‘then I’ll have to think again about having you living with me.’

  I swallowed. It had taken me a moment to realise she wasn’t joking. This wasn’t funny.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t, ever, flirted with him!’ I protested. ‘For God’s sake, Ruth, I wouldn’t! You know me better than that. I wouldn’t know how to flirt with anyone, even if I wanted to!’

  ‘Well, you seem to have learnt fast. Every time he comes round, he spends more time chatting and laughing with you than he does with me.’

  ‘Of course he doesn’t! It’s only ever a quick chat about the dogs—’

  ‘Yes, the bloody dogs, I know. But how do you think that makes me feel? I’m in the kitchen, cooking for him, and he’s with you, joking and giggling, leaving me completely out of it. I’m sick of it, Jess, I’m telling you. I told you how important he is to me, but you still keep on hogging the limelight.’

  ‘Hogging the—!’ I stared at her. Me, hogging anyone’s limelight? The idea was so ridiculous, I could hardly take it seriously. But her threat to throw me out of the house had unnerved me. ‘Ruth, look, I’m sorry if you feel like you’re being left out.’ I certainly knew how that felt. ‘But you don’t really like dogs, do you, and honestly, that’s all we ever talk about. There’s no flirting going on. I can’t believe you’d think that.’

  ‘Well, he always comes straight in to see you,’ she said, sounding miserable now. I felt a pang of sympathy, despite myself. She was jealous. Of me! However ludicrous it seemed, I didn’t want her to feel like that.

  ‘Well, have you talked to Nick about it? If it bothers you so much?’ I said. ‘I mean, I can’t exactly lock the lounge door to keep him out.’

  ‘No, I haven’t talked to him about it!’ she retorted, finally turning to face me. ‘It would make me sound pathetic and needy.’ She sighed. ‘I haven’t felt like this about anyone for years, Jess. It’s … really special. I don’t want to lose him.’

  ‘I know. I can see that.’ I tried, and failed, to imagine being so desperately in love with someone that it made you insecure and … yes, pathetic. It was peculiar to find my clever, strong, confident cousin reduced to this. Much as I enjoyed my chats with Nick, I decided I’d just have to find a way of pointedly ignoring him in future. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression I’m flirting with him,’ I said now with a shrug. ‘I’ll keep my distance and try not to talk to him any more. But you’re wrong and you’d realise that if you really thought about it. You know how shy I am, especially with men. To be honest I get tongue-tied every time he talks to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her tone curt. ‘And that’s because you fancy him.’

  I looked away, shaking my head. But I was trying desperately not to give myself away by blushing. She was right in that respect, of course. I did fancy him. But it wouldn’t ever have crossed my mind to act on it, because it wouldn’t have been right – he was her boyfriend. And anyway, he’d never have given me a second look, especially when he had Ruth, who was so much more attractive than me. I was hurt that Ruth would believe I’d do such a thing. I could only think she’d misread my shyness and awkwardness around Nick – and forgotten that this was, in fact, my default setting!

  CHAPTER 5

  I hadn’t always been so completely socially inept. Well, I suppose I’d been like it for most of my life, since my happy childhood suddenly blew up in my face when I was only eight, leaving me tongue-tied and silent with shock and grief. But for just a short time, here in P
ennycombe Bay, I’d started to become a different person – to feel more confident, more in control of situations and able to believe in myself. And it was all because of Liz, the best friend I’d ever had, or so I thought at the time. We were colleagues, when I used to work at the Pennycombe Grand Hotel. From the day I started there, four years previously, she took me under her wing. She was quite a bit older than me, and we had what I supposed a mother-and-daughter relationship might feel like. Not that I would know. Liz was the only person outside my own family who’d ever really made the effort to get inside my shell of shyness. She said things to boost my morale, and made me feel that I was worth something. When we were together, I forgot to feel small and silly, forgot to stumble over my words and forgot to blush whenever anyone spoke to me, and eventually this rubbed off on the times when I wasn’t with her. I began to actually like myself, and I knew it was all because of Liz.

  But it didn’t last. After everything went wrong at work, she dropped me like a stone. I’d never seen or heard from her since. I’d given up texting, calling and emailing her now. Given up standing on her doorstep ringing her bell and knowing she was there, refusing to open the door. It had hurt me too much. And you know what? It was worse, far worse, to have had a best friend and lost her, than to never have had one in the first place. She might have given me self-confidence back then, but now she’d made a bloody good job of destroying it. What did it say about me, if even the one person who’d seemed to understand me and encourage me had eventually given up on me?

  After Ruth’s lecture to me on the beach that day about Nick, we dressed and walked home in an uneasy silence. I felt cross with her for accusing me so unjustly, frustrated that I couldn’t make her understand that she was wrong, but at the same time strangely sorry for her. Although by no means an expert in love affairs, I knew instinctively it wasn’t a good sign that she distrusted Nick so much, especially with someone who was as little a threat as I was. And I knew Jim was right, too, when he’d said she shouldn’t be pretending to like dogs. It obviously wasn’t a good basis for their relationship. But I could hardly voice these opinions to her: she’d have been furious.

  When we got home, I let Prudence into the garden and followed her out there. It was still a lovely warm evening and I sat for a while on the garden bench, throwing a ball to Pru to chase, and enjoying the last of the sunshine. I could hear Ruth in the kitchen, clanking crockery and pots around. Nick must be coming for dinner. I heard the chink of glass and the glug of wine being poured, and my mouth watered: a glass of chilled white would go down a treat on an evening like this, but I hadn’t bought any, and one thing Ruth had never suggested sharing with me, from the day I moved in, was the supply of wine and spirits she bought. She liked a drink after work and often came home with a couple of bottles in a carrier bag. I didn’t blame her; she worked hard and earned the money for it.

  I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sun and thought briefly about going out to buy some wine for myself – but frankly I couldn’t be bothered. The swim, and the tension following our conversation, had left me feeling weary. Eventually I went back indoors, planning to quickly heat myself some baked beans in the microwave and get out of Ruth’s way. But she’d already gone upstairs, presumably to change before Nick arrived. I made some toast and when I went to the fridge for the butter, I glanced at the bottle of white wine she’d put back in there. I’d never have dreamed of helping myself, however tempting it might have been. But there wasn’t much left in the bottle anyway.

  When I went into the lounge a little later with Prudence, I closed the door firmly and almost wished I could lock it. How else was I supposed to keep Nick from coming in? Perhaps Ruth expected me to go upstairs to my bedroom whenever he came round, but I really didn’t want to start doing that. I didn’t have a TV in my room, and the screen on my little tablet wasn’t the best thing for watching films on. And anyway, why should I be forced to hide away up there like an embarrassing member of the family who couldn’t be trusted not to take off her clothes and swear when the vicar came for tea? It seemed I’d just have to try to not to be too friendly to Nick if he spoke to me.

  In fact, we were halfway through the evening before I even saw him. I’d heard him, of course, talking to Ruth, and heard Buddy a couple of times, but fortunately Prudence was asleep at my feet, completely unawares, until the door opened a fraction and Nick poked his head in.

  ‘Hi, Jess!’ he said, smiling his lovely smile at me. ‘I just wondered if Prudence was in there with you. Buddy’s been sniffing all around the house for her.’

  ‘Yes … she was … um … asleep,’ I said, trying, but failing, to avoid looking at him. Prudence had, of course, by now bounded out of the room, and she and Buddy were tearing madly up and down the hall together, knocking things flying as they skidded into each other.

  ‘I think I’d better let them out in the garden,’ Nick said, with a meaningful wink at me and a nod of his head towards my cousin, making me want to smile despite myself. Ruth might have tried to pretend she was happy with Buddy charging around the place, but Nick obviously wasn’t fooled!

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, trying to keep my tone flat. I went to return to the TV, but he was suddenly back again, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching me. I felt myself growing hot and uneasy again.

  ‘Are you OK, Jess?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ I said. I realised I was actually sounding a bit snappy now, because I was so anxious about Ruth listening. ‘Sorry, I’m just trying to watch this programme.’

  I turned back to the TV and stared pointedly at it, but I could almost feel his eyes still on me.

  ‘Fair enough,’ he said, lightly. ‘Sorry. Didn’t realise you were so into stuff about childbirth.’

  Dammit. I’d been trying so hard to ignore the awkwardness I still felt when I spoke to him, and concentrating so much on not – in some unfathomable way – sounding like I was flirting, I’d inadvertently pressed several buttons on the remote control at once, and God only knew what I was now watching. Hot with embarrassment, I switched back to a current affairs programme, and pretended to be glued to it, until he finally said, ‘OK, well, enjoy. See you later.’

  I got up and shut the door again. I hated the fact that I was probably now coming across as positively rude; but perhaps it was just as well. He couldn’t have failed to get the message that I didn’t want to keep chatting. And hopefully Ruth, who was sure to have been listening, would have got it too. No way could that conversation have been interpreted as being over-friendly!

  I talked to Prudence about it the next morning as we set off on our usual walk.

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’ I complained to her. ‘I don’t like being rude to Nick. All he wants to do is chat about you and Buddy. But I can’t afford to upset Ruth, can I?’

  Well, don’t expect me to stop being friends with Buddy, will you?

  ‘I don’t want to stop you. But if I have to keep giving Nick the cold shoulder, he’ll treat me the same way and avoid seeing me. Sorry, Pru, but this is going to affect you and Buddy. It’s not my fault.’

  But we were going to get married!

  ‘More fool you,’ I said sadly. ‘From what I can make out, relationships with boys just aren’t worth the trouble. You’ll have far more fun if you just stick to your girl doggy friends – the ones you invite round whenever I’m out.’

  I looked at her and sighed. What was I even talking about? Her friends were imaginary, even more imaginary than the way she talked to me. I knew why I did this: I was sometimes a bit lonely, as well as being rubbish at real life, real conversations and real relationships. It was easier to talk to Prudence, easier to invent a world where she talked back to me and told me all about the friends and the fun she had, in the life I dreamed up for her. Most of the time I enjoyed it, as a bit of innocent fun, but occasionally when I was feeling down, like this, I felt stupid and almost ashamed for having made such a habit of it. It was childish, I told myse
lf now. What would anyone think if they knew? No wonder I didn’t have many real friends. No wonder I was hopeless with men: instead of working at my social skills I just talked to my dog and pretended she held parties and sent emails to her friends!

  But then again, what was the point of trying harder to talk to men, when the first one I’d ever been interested in, here in Pennycombe Bay, belonged to my cousin and was strictly off limits?

  I took Prudence home, and set off for work a little earlier than usual, hoping to have a good talk with Jim about Vera. But when I called into Patel’s for my paper as usual, Mr P almost jumped over the counter in his haste to tell me something.

  ‘I’ve got the keys, Jess. He’s given them to me, you see. He knew you’d be coming here first—’

  ‘Keys, what keys?’ I asked, surprised by the urgency in his voice. ‘Who’s given you what keys?’

  ‘For the shop – your shop, of course. Jim’s gone with the ambulance. Hasn’t he called you? He said he’d call you.’

  ‘No, he hasn’t,’ I said, fumbling in my bag for my phone as I spoke. ‘What’s happened? What’s this about an ambulance?’

  ‘For his friend, his lady friend. The one with the broken foot.’

  ‘Vera?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. Apparently she tried to take herself upstairs—’

  ‘Oh no!’ I gasped. Vera had a downstairs bathroom, and had been told by the district nurse to sleep on her sofa-bed in the living room – she’d even made the bed up for her – and under no circumstances to try getting upstairs yet. ‘What on earth possessed her?’

  ‘I don’t know, love. But she lost her balance when she was only a little way up, fell down and landed badly on her arm. Thank goodness she could reach the phone and called Jim here at the shop – he’d only just arrived. He called an ambulance for her and dashed off round to her place.’ He paused, and gave me a knowing look. ‘He was worried out of his skin. Said you’d have to look after the shop while he went with her to the hospital.’