The Pet Shop at Pennycombe Bay

by Sheila Norton

  Dad threw down his tea towel and wrapped his arms around me.

  ‘How can she live with herself?’ he said. ‘How could she have gone on working there, knowing what she’d done – what she’d done to you?’ His voice rose with indignation. ‘What a bloody cow!’

  I sniggered. He looked at me in surprise, and I smiled and kissed his cheek. This was my dad, my lovely gentle, patient father who, as far as I knew, had never lost his temper with anyone. To hear him call someone a bloody cow was to know he was seriously angry on my behalf.

  ‘Thanks, Dad. Yes, she is, isn’t she? I’ve been so furious since I found out, I actually contemplated going round to her house to confront her. I know!’ I added, ruefully, when he gave me a look of disbelief. ‘Not like me at all! But what’s the point? I doubt she’d even open the door to me. No, I should just forget about her. Forget I ever knew her.’

  Ever knew her, ever looked up to her and trusted her and thought of her as a friend. More than a friend: a surrogate mum. What an insult to my real mum! The thought came to me suddenly and made me feel sick with shame. Nobody could replace my mum, I’d been crazy to even try. Perhaps if I hadn’t thought of Liz in that way in the first place, I wouldn’t be as hurt as I was now by what she’d done.

  ‘I shouldn’t waste my time feeling hurt about it,’ I went on. ‘But I am angry. Bloody furious!’

  ‘I don’t blame you, love. Punch a cushion, or something,’ he suggested weakly, looking around him for inspiration – as if he’d ever have been angry enough himself to punch anything. ‘And then, yes! Forget her, if you can. She’s not worth it, Jess.’

  ‘You’re right.’ I squared my shoulders and managed a proper smile. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so moody, Dad. Let’s do something nice tonight. Put a film on, or play a game of cards. Have a little glass of wine.’

  ‘Why not,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve got some nuts and raisins in the cupboard. Put them in a dish, Jess, and open that bottle of red.’

  It might have made me feel middle-aged. But it was exactly the sort of evening I needed.

  When I arrived home on the Tuesday evening, Ruth was already back from work, and to my surprise, was in the kitchen, frying eggs.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, looking at me in surprise. ‘You’re back.’

  It must have been my imagination, but – a bit like the previous time when I’d walked out and gone to my dad’s – it had sounded, just for a moment there, like she was relieved I was home.

  ‘Of course I’m back.’ I stared at her. ‘I said I’d be back tonight – in my note.’

  ‘You didn’t. You just said you were going back to your dad’s.’

  ‘For a few days. I said for a few days, didn’t I?’

  ‘No.’

  I kicked off my shoes and joined her in the kitchen. It was so unlike Ruth to be cooking anything, just for herself, that it felt quite unreal. To say nothing of the fact that she was actually talking to me.

  ‘Sorry, then. I suppose I wrote the note in a bit of a hurry. I’d been waiting for you to come home so I could tell you, but you were late, and I wanted to get going.’

  ‘OK.’ She went over to the fridge. ‘Want a couple of eggs?’

  ‘Er … yes. Thanks.’

  It was even more unreal to watch Ruth cook something for me.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming back,’ she said finally, as she slid the fried eggs onto slices of toast. She paused, staring at the plates. ‘I thought you’d had enough and walked out on me.’

  I stood still, holding my breath, hoping this might actually be a breakthrough moment.

  ‘Why would I do that?’ I asked her carefully, as she was still standing, staring at the eggs on the plates as if they might jump up and hit her at any moment.

  There was another long pause. Then she shrugged and turned round to face me.

  ‘How should I know? You’ve been in a funny mood lately.’

  And she picked up the two plates and plonked them down on the kitchen table. The moment was gone. But over the next few days, I noticed a change in Ruth. She was less hostile to me, more inclined to eat with me again and stay downstairs to watch TV with me in the evenings instead of hiding herself away in her bedroom. There was something else different, too: she wasn’t bringing home the clinking carrier bags any more. I noticed her taking headache tablets. I noticed that sometimes her hands were shaking, and that she seemed desperate to keep herself busy, almost to the point of agitation. I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to jinx it. And finally, almost a week afterwards, she came home later than usual, sat down, looking calm and somewhat pleased with herself and told me:

  ‘I’ve just been to my second meeting.’ She gave a rueful little smile. ‘Alcoholics Anonymous, as you’ve probably guessed.’

  I jumped up and gave her a hug. ‘Oh, Ruth, well done. Has it been horrible?’

  ‘Yes, bloody awful.’ She grimaced. ‘But they say the first week is often the worst.’

  It was weird to think about, and it was a long time before she actually came out and admitted it. But apparently it really was the thought that I’d walked out on her – that despite everything, she hadn’t wanted me to give up on her – that had driven her to that first meeting. She did, though, begin to talk to me openly about the struggle she’d been having.

  ‘I haven’t even been really enjoying the drink – not for a long time now,’ she said, one evening early in October when we were sitting outside together, enjoying the remnants of an unseasonably lovely day, watching the shadows lengthening as the sun began to dip behind the rooftops. ‘It went from being a pleasure, to being a necessity, and then, in the end, it was just controlling me. I hated it as much as I loved it. Hated what it was doing to me.’ She glanced at me and sighed. ‘I’ve been horrible to live with, haven’t I – a moody, stroppy cow. Still am, I suppose. I’m not over it yet.’

  ‘No. You’re different. You’re winning now,’ I said, putting my arm round her. ‘I know how hard it must be; I know there are going to be difficult moments, but look at you now!’ I smiled at her. ‘I feel like I’m getting my cousin back at last.’

  ‘Thanks, Jess. That means a lot to me.’

  She rested her head on my shoulder and we sat for another half hour in the gathering darkness, listening to the breeze in the trees and the distant sound of the sea. Prudence was lying at our feet, and when she suddenly got up and put her head on my knee as if to say surely it was time to go indoors, it was Ruth who reached out her hand to stroke her.

  ‘Good girl,’ she said gently.

  I felt Pru’s tail wagging against my legs and my heart filled with happiness. I’d never thought we’d see the day where Prudence and Ruth might actually become friends – and that my cousin and I might get back to the sisterly relationship we used to have. Things were going to get better, I reminded myself, and there was a lot to be grateful for.

  CHAPTER 19

  I made a special effort after that. Not just with Ruth, but with myself too. I decided I wasn’t going to let what I’d found out about Liz turn me into a sour, distrustful person who everyone (not just Nick) would want to avoid.

  ‘I’m happy,’ I kept telling Prudence, as much to remind myself as her.

  Good. Start looking like it. I’d been getting fed up with your long face.

  ‘Oh, is that so? You’ve always seemed pretty pleased to see me when I come home from work. Or would you rather I stayed out until later, so that you could carry on having fun with all the dogs you invite round?’

  I don’t invite them round any more. I only want to see Buddy, but he’s gone.

  Suddenly I didn’t want to continue the conversation any longer.

  The new customer at the shop, who’d promised to buy his cat food from us in future, had been true to his word. He’d only been in a couple of times, as he bought in bulk, but I’d been pleased to see him. He chatted a bit – not for ages like some of our older, lonely customers – and had told us his name was Tom and that
his little boy had problems at school.

  ‘He seems worried about his son,’ I’d mused aloud to Jim after Tom’s second visit. ‘I wonder what sort of problems he has. I hope it’s not bullying or anything like that.’

  He smiled at me. ‘Always concerned about people, aren’t you, Jess. You don’t even know the boy!’

  A couple of weeks later Tom came back for some more food.

  ‘I’ll have a bag of litter too, please Jess,’ he said in his usual gentle, slightly anxious way. ‘Coco isn’t allowed to go outside at the moment. She’s been injured in a fight. The vet’s put her in one of those big collars.’

  ‘Oh, poor thing!’ I said. ‘They hate wearing those, don’t they? I hope she wasn’t badly hurt?’

  ‘No, just a couple of scratches, at the top of her leg. But you know what cats are like – she wouldn’t leave it alone, so it wouldn’t heal.’

  ‘Let’s hope it heals up quickly now she’s in the collar, then.’ I hesitated, placing the bag of cat litter on the counter. ‘How’s your little boy?’

  Tom’s anxious frown intensified. ‘He’s struggling at school, Jess. It’s not so much that he finds the work difficult. It’s just that he gets himself into a bit of a state about things. He’s doing well with his reading, for instance, but he gets really nervous about it, frightened of saying the wrong words.’

  ‘Oh dear. What does his teacher say?’

  ‘She’s being really helpful; she keeps reassuring him it doesn’t matter if he gets things wrong. But he tires himself out with all this anxiety. It worries me, to be honest.’

  ‘Poor kid.’ I couldn’t help thinking perhaps the boy took after his father; but then again, I could understand Tom being worried about his son. I had a feeling he was probably a lovely dad. ‘Hopefully it’s something he’ll grow out of,’ I said, trying to sound positive.

  ‘Thank you.’ He smiled, and it completely changed his face. ‘See you again soon, Jess. Bye, Jim.’

  ‘What a nice chap,’ Jim commented, giving me a sideways look that I guessed the significance of.

  I said nothing. Nice chap or not, he presumably had a wife or a partner, and even if he didn’t, I wasn’t interested – not in him or anyone else! I felt stupid now, about the way I’d imagined myself falling in love with Nick. What was I, for God’s sake? A hormone-driven fifteen-year-old? I needed to grow up and stop behaving like a character in a teenage magazine. Yes, I’d liked Nick a lot, we’d had things in common and, of course, he was devastatingly good-looking. But I’d been an idiot to think it was anything more than that.

  Anyway, now that Ruth and I had become closer again, she’d started to talk to me about Nick when she was having one of her better days. She’d apologised for being such a crabby cow to me about him.

  ‘I know you’d never really have flirted with him or tried to steal him from me,’ she said. ‘You’re not like that. I suppose the booze was making me paranoid. It was my own fault – I sabotaged that relationship.’

  I felt terrible now. I’d never be able to tell her, of course, but if it hadn’t been for that phone call from the Grand Hotel, I would have met up with Nick for a drink and had been fully prepared to take things further. I tried not to blush from the shame of it. Although he’d finished with Ruth by then, it still would have been horribly disloyal of me.

  ‘Can’t you get in touch with him, now you’re off the booze?’ I said. ‘That’s the only reason he broke up with you, isn’t it? Give him a call!’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Actually, Jess, now I can think more clearly, I think I’m better off without him.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked in astonishment.

  ‘Yes. He hurt me a lot, about the drinking. I knew I had a problem, obviously, but I thought I was handling it. He could have helped me; other women in my AA group talk about how supportive their partners, husbands, whatever, are. But he just called me names and kept threatening to leave me if I didn’t stop.’ She gave me a sad little smile. ‘I was so on edge all the time, worrying that he would end it, I needed to drink more and more just to keep myself together. To function at work. He … made my life more difficult, I can see that now.’

  ‘He called you names?’ I said, horrified.

  ‘Oh yes. Drunken slut was his favourite. At the time, I was too mixed-up to realise how nasty he was being about it; I just presumed I deserved it. And I suppose I did. But from someone you love …’

  I put my arms around her. I was horrified to learn of this unsuspected side of the man I’d been prepared to make a complete idiot of myself over. I wondered whether, in fact, Nick had used those insults as some sort of tactic, to shock her into admitting she needed help – but even if this was the case, it was pretty drastic and unkind. I decided not to even suggest it to Ruth.

  ‘You’ll meet somebody else,’ I told her. ‘You’ve got so much going for you: you’re clever, beautiful—’

  ‘Weak,’ she added.

  ‘No, you must be joking, you’re the strongest person I know. I’ve watched you, since you joined AA, and I’ve seen how hard it’s been for you. You should be proud of yourself, Ruth.’

  I’m the one who’s weak, I added mentally. I was the one who could have ruined my relationship with my cousin forever, because of a handsome face and a bit of flattery. Never again!

  I was still visiting Vera, although she was now getting around the house much better, and no longer needed Edie to call and help her, as long as Jim or I got her occasional bits of shopping.

  ‘I miss her,’ she finally admitted – and to be honest, so did I. Edie and I had enjoyed having a chat and a laugh together when we met up at Vera’s. But we’d promised to stay in touch, and to try to get together whenever we could manage it. Given Edie’s long working hours, it might not be often, sadly, but I loved reading her quirky text messages, and comments on social media and was looking forward to seeing her again.

  ‘At least you’ve got Doc to keep you company,’ I said now to Vera. Doc was rubbing against my legs at the time, meowing to be stroked, so I lifted him onto my lap for a cuddle. ‘He’s such an affectionate cat, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. It makes me wonder why Jim seems to be so lonely,’ she mused, ‘considering he’s got two cats of his own to keep him company.’

  ‘I really don’t think he’s lonely at all!’ I protested. ‘He seemed amazed when I asked him about that. He hasn’t only got his cats for company, he’s got all the customers at the shop to chat to, as well.’

  ‘Huh. It still seems to me like he’s at a loose end when he’s not in the shop,’ she insisted. ‘He’s round here all the time, interfering, bossing me about and asking to get more shopping for me. How much does he think I eat? I don’t need shopping every day!’

  ‘Every day?’ I echoed. I still didn’t believe Jim called on her that often. She was either exaggerating, or getting a bit confused. ‘Well, it’s nice that he cares about you,’ I said carefully.

  ‘Huh.’ She said again, shaking her head. ‘Anyway, I can start going out myself now. The what-d’you-call-it – consultant – said so. They took me in the ambulance, you know,’ she added, looking impressed. ‘For my appointment. I had another X-ray, and he said I’ve mended nicely now.’

  ‘But are you sure you ought to be going out on your own? Why don’t I walk with you first—?’

  ‘Oh, don’t you start fussing as well!’ she retorted. ‘Bad enough with Jim, going on at me. Be careful with this, be careful with that. Anyone would think I was old and bloody feeble.’

  ‘No, of course you’re not,’ I pacified her. ‘But you don’t want to fall over again. At least wait for a dry day.’

  October had turned wet and windy now, and the fallen leaves made the pavements slippery. It really wasn’t a good time for her to be going out on her own for the first time. Jim was right to be concerned.

  ‘Just think of Doc,’ I added, giving the cat another little stroke. ‘What would happen to him if you had to go into hospital again?�
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  She was silent then, nodding to herself and giving an occasional little grunt of annoyance. I told Prudence about it when I got home.

  ‘I think that might have worked,’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t want to do anything to upset Doc.’

  Huh. What use is a cat to her, anyway? Cats are spoilt rotten. They go off on their own when it suits them, and come home demanding to be fed.

  ‘But Doc’s a lovely cat. And he’s keeping her happy. That’s all that matters. And you don’t do so badly at demanding to be fed, yourself,’ I added, laughing, as I got her food bowl down from the cupboard.

  I wondered, fleetingly, as I watched her tucking into her food, what I’d do, how I’d cope with life, if I didn’t have Prudence. But it wasn’t a thought I wanted to dwell on.

  Since my few days in Exeter and the gradually improving situation between Ruth and me, I’d felt a lot more positive, especially about my job at Paws4Thought. I spent quite a bit of time thinking of ways to make our displays more attractive, and browsing manufacturers’ catalogues for new lines to stock. Jim seemed impressed by my ideas and we chatted together, during quiet days, about how we could attract more customers.

  Then, one blustery, showery day in the middle of October, when we were particularly quiet in the shop, Mr Patel from the shop next door came in to see us.

  ‘Ganesh!’ Jim said in surprise, grasping his old friend’s hands. ‘How are you? This is an unexpected pleasure. Sit down, have a cup of tea with us – Jess has just put the kettle on.’

  ‘Are you quiet next door too?’ I asked, as surprised as Jim to see Mr P leaving his shop untended. ‘We’ve only had a couple of customers all day.’

  Mr P nodded. ‘Me too, Jess. To be honest with you, my friends, I’m so dispirited, I’ve closed up early for the day. It won’t hurt. Nobody will miss me.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that!’ I protested with a smile, thinking he was joking.