The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  I gave myself a little shake, realising I was still standing in the middle of the street staring in at the café window. I was determined to start putting the past out of my mind. After all, it was my own fault that I’d been fired from the hotel, instead of just accepting being officially reprimanded; as the weeks had gone by after my dismissal, I’d started to doubt myself anyway. Perhaps I really had given the woman trout with almonds. I’d been busy, I could easily have been distracted. Who was I, to think I was above making a mistake? If I hadn’t shouted at Marco and been so insubordinate, I’d still be working there – and anyway, that wasn’t even what I wanted, any more! I squared my shoulders, realising I’d been staring through the café window like some kind of voyeuristic weirdo, and started to turn away – suddenly noticing, as I did, that there was one table, near the back, with only one man sitting at it. Nick.

  I was in through the door and crossing to his table before I’d even thought what I was doing. He looked up at me – and away again without smiling. I hesitated. He looked different; kind of sunken, as if he were on the point of collapse. My first thought was that he must be ill.

  ‘I saw you from the street,’ I gabbled. ‘Are you all right?’

  He shook his head. There was an untouched sandwich on the table in front of him, a full cup of tea that looked as if it had gone cold. I didn’t know whether to sit down opposite him, or go away and leave him in peace, so I stayed standing where I was.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ I tried tentatively. ‘I mean, sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but you look—’

  ‘It’s Buddy,’ he said, his voice so hoarse, I only just heard him.

  I froze. ‘Buddy? What? Is he ill?’

  He nodded, still not looking at me, and then kind-of gasped and shook his head, and gave a huge, strangled sigh. I knew, then. Knew that it was worse; that Buddy wasn’t just ill. That Kevin had been right about seeing him upset a few days earlier. My heart in my mouth, I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him, reaching across the table for his hand – all thoughts of what it might look like, what he might think, what Ruth might think, completely banished. He was suffering, in a way that only another dog lover could understand.

  ‘Tell me,’ I said. And in halting, strangled whispers, he did. He told me how the previous Friday, Buddy had seemed a bit tired and listless. Nick had taken him out for a walk to try to cheer him up, but Buddy seemed to stagger a bit on the walk, and finally had sat down, whining as if he’d had enough. And then he’d collapsed.

  ‘I rushed him to the vet’s,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘They tried to save him … but they found a tumour. It was massive. It must have been growing for a long time, without any symptoms, and then suddenly it had ruptured and started to bleed internally—’ He broke off, looked back down at the table, at the cold tea and the sandwich, as if he’d never seen them before. ‘There was nothing they could do,’ he went on, his voice breaking.

  ‘Oh God,’ I whispered, gripping his hands. ‘Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry.’

  He nodded, his eyes dark with anguish. ‘It was so sudden! I still can’t … just can’t believe he’s gone. One day he was just, you know, his normal self, and the next—’

  ‘Poor Buddy.’ I was close to tears myself. ‘But, look, at least he was fit and well and happy, right up to the very end. That’s something.’

  ‘I know. I know I should be grateful for that, but right now, the end is all I can think about. How frightened he must have been. How guilty I feel,’ he added in a kind of groan, ‘for not being able to save him.’

  ‘No. Even the vets couldn’t save him, Nick. You did all you could for him. You gave him a lovely life.’

  He nodded, but I could see from his face that it would be a long while before he could convince himself of that. I didn’t stay much longer. I told him he should eat, and look after himself, and maybe go back to work (he’d taken some of his annual leave, since the day Buddy died) to try to get some sort of normality back. But I knew nothing I said was likely to help. I left him to his grief, and managed, despite my own sorrow, somehow to get through the afternoon. I couldn’t even manage to talk to Jim about it yet. I hadn’t known Buddy too long, but I’d loved him too. And I knew someone else who was going to be devastated.

  ‘I heard some bad news today,’ I told Prudence later that evening. I’d waited until we were home from our walk on the beach – I hadn’t wanted to spoil that for her. ‘Your friend Buddy. He’s gone to the great Kennel in the Sky.’

  She put her head on one side, her tail down, as she gazed back at me.

  Can we go and visit him there? She seemed to be saying.

  ‘No, Pru. And he won’t be coming back. I’m sorry, but we won’t ever see Buddy again. He was too poorly, and the vet couldn’t make him better.’

  I blew my nose and sighed. Having an imaginary conversation with Prudence about it wasn’t exactly going to make me feel any better. Then I suddenly became aware of someone watching me from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Ruth!’ I said. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘No. You were too busy talking to the dog.’ She stared at me. ‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying. What was that you were saying about Buddy? That’s Nick’s dog, isn’t it?’

  It was more than she sometimes said to me for weeks. And her eyes were narrowed with suspicion. I took a deep breath. She probably should know about this, anyway, just in case she ever did meet up with him again.

  ‘Yes. I happened to bump into him today in the town—’

  ‘Oh, you just happened to, did you?’ she said, with a smirk of scepticism.

  ‘Yes.’ To be honest, I didn’t care too much right then whether she believed me or not. ‘And he was in a terrible state. Buddy died last week, suddenly. A tumour.’

  ‘Oh dear. Well, the dog was getting on a bit, anyway, wasn’t it?

  ‘No, Ruth. He was only eight. It’s no age at all.’ Only two years older than Prudence. I shivered. ‘It was a horrible shock for Nick.’

  ‘Still, I suppose you managed to cheer him up.’

  I just shook my head. I couldn’t believe she could be so lacking in compassion.

  ‘He’s heartbroken,’ I said flatly. I turned away. Let her think what she liked.

  There was silence for a moment. Then she said, in a tone contrived to sound casual:

  ‘I don’t care any more, anyway. I’m over him. He wasn’t my type. You’re welcome to him.’

  ‘I’m not even—’ I began, turning back to her, my voice rising with exasperation.

  But she’d already started to walk away, carrying her bag of bottles upstairs to her room as usual.

  At least Jim was more understanding when I finally told him, the next day, what had happened.

  ‘Poor chap,’ he said. ‘It’s always heartbreaking to lose a pet. But when it’s so sudden, like that – when the dog was fit and well right up till the last minute – it must be an awful shock.’

  ‘Yes. I hardly knew what to say to him.’ I sighed. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nick, about how drawn and pained he’d looked, how he’d been sitting there in the café, lost and alone. He needed some support. I surely could have done more, said more, to help. My heart ached for him so much that I began to realise, finally, how much I really did like him – much more than I’d previously admitted to myself. Was this more than just a crush? Of course I was attracted to him, had been from the start, but I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on those feelings because of Ruth. Now, I wondered if perhaps I was really starting to fall for him. I thought about those fluttery feelings I’d always got when I saw him, the way I went hot all over and didn’t know how to speak to him. It wasn’t just because I felt embarrassed and shy in front of him. It was because of how much I liked him. Admitting this to myself now, and knowing how upset he was, I suddenly wished I could seek him out, right now, and hold him in my arms and kiss away the pain …

  ‘Excuse me.’ I looked up, shocked out of m
y reverie. A tall, slim guy with an anxious expression and a shock of black hair was watching me from the other side of the counter, evidently waiting to be served, while Jim had already been approached by another customer who wanted to look at hamster cages. ‘Are you … er … serving, at all?’

  ‘Oh! Yes, I’m terribly sorry. I was just …’ Just daydreaming about kissing someone. I blushed and tried to pull myself together. ‘Just thinking about something,’ I finished lamely.

  ‘Oh. Well, sorry, but I just wondered if you could possibly let me have a box of Kitty-Kit sachets. I normally buy them in bulk in the supermarket, but I’ve run out, and—’

  ‘No need to apologise!’ I said, recovering my normal customer service manner. ‘But you know, we do sell all our pet foods in bulk quantities too, and in some cases we’re cheaper than the supermarkets. As it happens, Kitty-Kit is on special offer this week, so you’d make a considerable saving by buying a pack of four boxes from us now. It’d keep your cat happy for a bit longer, and save you a trip to the supermarket too!’ I added with a smile.

  He smiled back, altering his whole face.

  ‘Well, I must admit that’s a tempting idea. Thank you. I’ll take a pack, then. Mixed flavours, please, if you can? Actually, what the hell – make it two packs. I’ve got my car outside. As you say, that’ll keep Coco going, and save me running out again.’

  ‘Coco? That’s a nice name.’ I might have been shy in social situations, but Jim had trained me well in how to speak to customers. We always showed interest in their pets. To be honest, I was genuinely interested anyway so it wasn’t difficult. ‘Is that a male or female cat?’

  ‘Female. She’s my son’s cat, really.’

  ‘Ah, you look after him for your son, do you?’ I stacked the packs of cat food on top of each other and rang up the sale.

  ‘Oh, my son’s only six!’ he said. ‘Of course, he’s not really old enough to have his own pet. I just …’ He shrugged. ‘He’s an only child and I wanted him to have a companion. She … helps him.’

  ‘That’s nice. I do think pets help children, yes, in lots of ways.’ I smiled at him again. ‘That’s thirty-four pounds, forty pence please. Yes of course, sir, a debit card is fine. Thank you.’

  His payment completed, he went to lift the boxes of food off the counter but stopped, looking at me for a moment.

  ‘Would you like me to get the door for you?’ I asked, moving quickly around the counter, but he shook his head.

  ‘It’s fine. I just wanted to say that I wish I’d come in here before. I often look in the window when I’m walking past, but you know what it’s like – busy lives – I suppose the supermarket’s too easy, isn’t it. But your shop’s very nice. And really, we should all support the little local shops.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll definitely be coming back, and I’m going to mention you to a couple of my neighbours who’ve got pets.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, surprised and pleased. ‘That’s very nice of you. We hope to see you again soon, then!’

  Jim had overheard all this while he waited for his customer to choose her hamster cage, and needless to say, was looking pleased.

  ‘Well done, Jess,’ he said when he was free. ‘It would be really good to steer a few more customers away from the supermarket.’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, although he might have just been saying that.’

  But to be honest, I was feeling pretty chuffed too. The guy had seemed quite genuine. Perhaps, if he really did tell other people about our special offers, it might encourage them to come here for their pet supplies too. He’d seemed like a nice man. I wondered why his little boy needed help, and found myself hoping that Coco the cat was making him feel better, whatever was wrong with him. It made me think about the children Prudence and I visited on Seashell Ward; I was looking forward to seeing them again the next Wednesday. There were always new patients to meet, and that customer had been right: it did really seem that pets helped them in some mysterious way, no matter who they were or what was wrong with them. Just as Doc the little ginger and white cat had helped Vera.

  And my thoughts immediately went straight back to Nick. Who was going to help him, now that Buddy had gone? Could it be, I wondered … I was getting carried away in my mind, now, leaning on the counter, day-dreaming again … could it actually be that this was my fate? To try to mend his broken heart and bring some joy back into his life? After all, hadn’t Ruth told me just the previous night that she was over Nick now? Maybe she really wouldn’t mind any more. Maybe it was time I stopped pushing him away.

  CHAPTER 17

  So perhaps the thought of kissing away Nick’s pain had gone to my head slightly and made me feel a bit unhinged and reckless. I ought to have known perfectly well from Ruth’s continued sad moods and the way she still tended to shut herself away in her bedroom that she wasn’t really ‘over’ Nick at all. On some level, I’m sure I did know that, but I chose to ignore it, so carried away was I with my sudden new determination to forget everything I’d said before, and try to get together with Nick myself. My behaviour following this decision wasn’t something to be proud of.

  For a start, at the first opportunity, I got hold of Ruth’s phone. Feeling guilty about it seemed a small price to pay for achieving my heart’s desire. I correctly guessed her PIN on the first attempt (birthdays are such an obvious choice), found Nick’s number and transferred it to my own phone. My heart was pounding as I sat up on the cliffs later that evening with Prudence, and pressed ‘call’. He sounded pleasantly surprised to hear from me.

  ‘How are you now?’ I asked, after I’d told him, a little shakily, my pre-rehearsed fiction about Ruth volunteering his number so that I could talk to him about Buddy.

  ‘Well, I guess I’m getting over the shock. But I don’t think I’ll ever get over missing him.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Hearing his voice, now that I’d accepted that I had feelings for him, was making me feel weak with longing. And brave, too, in a way I could never have imagined being in my wildest dreams. ‘Would you like to get together for a drink some time? To talk a bit more?’

  ‘Really?’ He paused. ‘Aren’t you worried about Ruth finding out any more?’

  ‘No. She’s told me she’s OK about it. She’s given me her blessing.’ Well, she had, hadn’t she? You’re welcome to him were her exact words. Could I help it if I didn’t recognise sarcasm?

  ‘Really?’ he said again. ‘Well, yes, then, that’d be good, Jess. How about tomorrow night? The Smugglers’ Arms? Say … seven-thirty?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll look forward to it.’ My heart was racing now. ‘See you tomorrow then, Nick. And – take care, won’t you. I’m thinking of you.’

  ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I’ve got a date with him, I’ve actually got a date with him!’ I told Prudence, hugging myself and doing a little dance on the spot. She eyed me balefully.

  All very well for you. I’m never going to see my boyfriend again.

  ‘Oh, Pru, I’m so sorry.’ I stopped hugging myself and bent down to hug her instead. ‘I know, it’s so sad about Buddy, but can’t you at least be happy for me? I really think I’m falling for him. I’ve finally met The One!’

  You’ve finally lost your marbles, you mean. You know how much trouble you’ll be in if Ruth finds out. You’re fooling yourself if you think she won’t care, and you know it.

  ‘La la la, I can’t hear you!’ I sang, jumping up and down with my fingers in my ears. A couple of women, out for an evening walk on the cliffs, glanced at me and walked on, exchanging a look between them. ‘I’ve got a date with him, and that’s all I care about!’ I sang on like a demented canary.

  Prudence seemed to be saying something else. But for the first time ever, I didn’t manage to understand what it was.

  The next day was a Wednesday, but even on my regular visit to the children’s ward, I found it hard to stop thinking about the evening ahead. Cheryl actually asked me if I was all right, saying I seemed a little distracted. I
was tempted to tell her it was because I had a big date that night – but in spite of my extremely hyped-up state, I hadn’t overcome my innate shyness quite enough for that. When I got home I spent about an hour going through my wardrobe, despairing at the sight of all my old, familiar, comfortable clothes. Why hadn’t I got anything halfway decent to wear? How had I allowed myself to become so frumpy, to walk around Pennycombe Bay in old jeans and T-shirts all the time? Didn’t I have any self-respect? No wonder nobody had ever been interested in me before! What on earth was wrong with Nick – he couldn’t really fancy somebody whose idea of glamming up was to put on a clean top and brush her hair, could he? If Ruth hadn’t, as always, locked her bedroom door, I would have seriously considered raiding her wardrobe – which was ridiculous really as she was much taller and slimmer than me. Eventually I decided my newest skinny jeans and a white shirt would have to do. I had a shower, dressed and was just putting a tiny bit of make-up on – not something I did very often – when I heard my phone singing its silly little song. My heart sank. This would be Nick, calling to cancel. He’d changed his mind. What an idiot I’d been for believing something as exciting as a date with Nick could really be happening to me.

  But it wasn’t Nick cancelling. It was something far more shocking than that.

  ‘Hello, is that Jessica Ferguson?’

  ‘That’s me,’ I said. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘This is Sandra Lovejoy, Jessica – I’m Human Resource Manager at the Pennycombe Grand Hotel. How are you today?’

  ‘All right, thank you,’ I said, warily. What the hell …?

  ‘Good. Well, Jessica, I have some good news for you. The Pennycombe Grand Hotel would like to offer you back, with immediate effect, your previous position in our catering department.’

  ‘What!’ I went to sit down, realised there was nothing behind me, and stumbled backwards into the wall, banging my head, and swearing out loud.