Wellies and Westies (12 page)

‘No,’ Cat agreed. ‘Happy, though.’

‘That could be all the champagne.’

‘True.’ Cat stretched her toes out and yawned. ‘Maybe we’d better do a temperature check tomorrow, see how long it lasts.’

She felt Polly nod against her shoulder. ‘So you didn’t get to speak to Mark, not properly. Did you get any new clients?’

‘I did,’ Cat said, feeling the flap of excited butterflies below her ribcage. ‘The Barkers at number six. They’ve got two retrievers, and they need someone to walk them three days a week, when Juliette has to go into the office. I’m going to see them on Sunday to firm up the arrangements.’

‘So you managed to have fun
and
network?’

‘I managed it. I didn’t think I would, but I did. I was given some very good advice,’ she added.

‘Fab, good for you!’ Polly put her arm around Cat, and Cat returned the hug. Contentment washed over her with the knowledge that, nearly two months in, her new business wasn’t failing. It was still slow, but she hadn’t messed it up the way Alison had told her she would, and – thanks to Joe – she had a plan. She was surrounded by friends, she got to spend her days out in the fresh air, with the friendliest creatures on the planet, and Mark wasn’t going out with Jessica. It felt as if everything was slowly coming together.

‘Come on,’ she murmured, when Polly started snoring gently into her ear, ‘let’s get to bed, or we’ll still be here when the sun comes up.’

Cat switched off the lights, leaving the living room in darkness and her black patent heels where she’d kicked them off, no longer needed now the party was over.

In the early May evening, Fairview beach looked like something out of a daydream. Small waves crested the sand and the sun was beginning to descend, a glowing, amber orb on the horizon, giving the sea a golden shimmer. The elegant houses on the seafront looked steadily on, and it gave Cat a glow of satisfaction knowing that her cosy home on Primrose Terrace was just beyond.

She strolled near the waves, her hands in the pockets of her military-style jacket, Valentino and Dior at her feet, Coco splashing in the water, yapping at the foam as it sprayed around him. She breathed in the strong, salty air, felt it sting her dry lips. It was a week after the party, Jessica was at a fellow author’s launch, and Cat could almost taste summer around the corner.

The beach was beginning to empty out. The sun’s heat was not yet strong enough to linger into the evenings, and the pull of warm houses and family dinners drew people away. Cat walked past the ice-cream parlour, closing up for the evening, the lighthouse silhouetted ahead of her on its rocky outcrop. It was picture-postcard perfect, quieter than Brighton and much more peaceful, much more room to think. Cat could see herself staying in Fairview for a long time, whatever happened with Pooch Promenade.

There were several dog owners on the beach, and she watched as an Airedale raced into the sea, chasing nothing but the waves. Valentino and Dior were happy to keep their feet dry, and Coco kept edging up the beach, intrigued but scared by the encroaching water. They were definitely divas, but Cat wouldn’t have it any other way.

A tennis ball landed in the breakers ahead of them, and a glossy Border collie raced in and retrieved it, before running back to its owner. Cat knew who it was before she’d laid eyes on him. She hid her nerves behind a smile and tugged gently at the leads, praying that, for once, the Westies would behave. Spotting her, Mark changed course, throwing the ball further along the beach so that Chips ran after it.

He was eating fish and chips from a cone of paper, the smell of vinegar wafting towards Cat, making her stomach rumble.

‘Lovely evening for it,’ he said, coming to a stop in front of her. ‘Chip?’

‘Thanks.’ She took one. It was hot and greasy and delicious and, glancing up at him, she took a second.

‘Nothing better than fish and chips on the beach.’

‘Agreed.’ The Westies settled at Cat’s feet, as if aware that this was an important conversation. It made her more nervous. ‘It was a good party, the other night.’

‘It was. Jessica has some good party-throwing skills, and it was good to meet more people from Fairview. You can’t meet everyone walking in the park.’

Cat nodded. ‘I’ve only been here since the beginning of the year, and Jessica’s been a good friend.’ It felt strange to think of her that way, but Cat saw her as more than just a client.

‘She’s very generous, very willing to help,’ Mark agreed. ‘I’ve been in touch with the producer she was telling me about, and we’re meeting in London next week.’

‘That’s great! Congratulations.’

‘And Dior’s looking better, after his scare that night.’

Cat examined her wellies, aware that Mark was scrutinizing her. ‘He is,’ she mumbled.

‘Not that there was ever anything wrong with him.’ He took a chip and chewed it thoughtfully.

‘No,’ Cat tried a laugh. ‘Just being a diva, like Jessica said.’

‘Or a helpful accessory.’

‘For what?’ Cat looked up, squinting against the setting sun.

‘For some spying. So you could come and find Jessica, or me, or both of us, and have a good excuse if you were found out. Which you were.’

‘I-I don’t know what you mean.’ It sounded lame even to Cat. How could she have imagined, for a second, that Mark hadn’t seen through her?

‘I think you do,’ he said. He took another chip and held it in front of her. Without thinking, Cat opened her mouth and he popped it in. ‘I think you came looking for us, and I think – though this could be due to my over-confidence – that you were pleased to discover our friendship was – is – platonic.’ He smiled at her, and Cat felt her cheeks redden, knowing she’d been beaten.

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe?’ He laughed. ‘OK, I’ll have to go with maybe then.’

‘What do you mean?’

He turned towards the horizon, his dark eyes creased against the sun. Cat decided that, though his jawline was still very definitely smug, it was also incredibly attractive. Like the rest of him.

‘I mentioned that I have to go to London next week. I’ll be away for three days, maybe four. In lots of meetings, and so…’ He turned back to Cat. ‘I was wondering, would you be able to look after Chips for me? I’ll leave a key. You could feed her, walk her, spend some time with her. Give her some of the endless love you have for everything with four legs and a wagging tail.’

Cat bit her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning. ‘Sure. I think I could fit Chips in.’

Mark scrunched the empty chip paper into a ball and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘Thanks, I’d appreciate it.’

‘Always happy to help a fellow Primrose Terrace resident.’

‘I thought you’d find my offer hard to resist.’ He started walking and Cat fell into step alongside him, the dogs happy to get going again, bounding along at her feet.

‘You did, did you?’

‘We’ve already established that I’m irresistible.’

Cat turned away, hiding her smile. ‘
You
established that a long time ago. I’m in it for the dogs. But I’d love to hear more about your films, if you can talk about them.’

‘They’re not secret projects, though the less said about the second one, the better.’

‘The flop?’

‘Exactly. Quite a spectacular flop. It took me to a bit of a dark place, made me reconsider…certain things. I’m not used to having my confidence dented. Anyway, I met Jessica at some lunch event, she told me about this place, about how much better it was living outside London, having space, fresh air, time to think. I made one visit here and the decision was easy. And of course Chips loves it, the freedom of the beach as well as the park. It’s better all round.’

‘So Jessica’s just a friend?’

She sensed rather than saw him look at her. ‘Just a friend. She’s helped me out, as I’ve said, and she’s fun to be around, but there’s nothing more between us. What made you so sure there was?’

‘You both called it Primrose Park. I guessed that you must know each other, because I don’t know anyone else who’s made that mistake.’

‘It’s not called Primrose Park?’

Cat shook her head. ‘It’s Fairview Park. It’s not even on Primrose Terrace.’

‘Well I know that,’ Mark said. ‘I just took Jessica’s word for it. I wonder what other lies she’s told me. Maybe her friend’s not really a producer at all. Her whole life could be a fabrication; she could have earned all her money through drug trafficking or money laundering. She could be sending me off to London to be murdered.’

Cat laughed. ‘She got the name of the park wrong. It’s not exactly a crime.’

‘But look what it led to. At the very least, it’s delayed things between us. You thought I was unavailable.’

Cat stopped walking, her breath faltering. Valentino, sensing the change in atmosphere, started barking, and Cat automatically dropped to her knees to soothe the dog. She took her time, stroking each Westie in turn, then pushed herself back to standing. ‘You’re available?’

Mark grinned. ‘That depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether you are.’

Cat narrowed her eyes. ‘I’d like to get to know you,’ she said. ‘And not just looking after Chips, though of course I’ll do that. But more than that. If you’d like to?’

He held her gaze, smiled down at her in a way that made his features seem softer, the side of his face bathed orange by the sun. ‘So you
are
available. Good. When I’m back from London, let’s do things properly. Lunch, or dinner.’

‘OK,’ she said, her breath rushing back in a whoosh of elation. ‘That sounds great.’ She started walking again, unable to stay still a moment longer, her fingers dancing inside her pockets. The sun was nearly at the horizon, turning a fiery, coral red, the remaining people fading to silhouettes as they strolled, or jogged, or stood watching the sea.

Cat, Mark and the four dogs walked in contented silence, Coco trotting through the waves, Chips chasing new sights and smells, then running back to her master. Cat wanted to take a snapshot, to preserve it and play it over and over on a loop. She wondered how long the perfection could last, then pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

They moved away from the sea, to where the sand was replaced by uneven shingle. Mark offered Cat his elbow, and she put her arm through his, wrapping her hand round the soft leather of his jacket. They reached the edge of the beach, but he didn’t pull his arm loose. Instead he slowed his step, prolonging the short journey back to Primrose Terrace. Perhaps, thought Cat, realizing how dangerous it was to hope, he wanted the moment go on for ever, too…

Acknowledgements

Huge thanks to my fantastic editor Kate Bradley, who took a chance on me and has been an amazing supporter, guide and friend from our very first meeting.

Thank you to Mary Chamberlain, my copy editor, for making sense of my words with patience and precision.

Thanks to the whole HarperCollins team, to Charlotte Brabbin, Amy Winchester, Kim Young, Katie Moss, Martha Ashby and Charlotte Ledger.

Thank you to the designer of my wonderful covers, Alexandra Allden.

For what is supposed to be such a solitary business, I have had a bucket-load of advice, encouragement and general brilliance from lots of authors along the way. I have to mention Alexandra Brown, Lucy Robinson, Miranda Dickinson, Holly Martin, Lisa Dickenson, Belinda Jones, Hannah Beckerman, Sarah Perry, Ali McNamara, RJ Ellory and Elly Griffiths. I am in awe of you all.

Thank you to Team Novelicious – I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here without you. Especially Kirsty Greenwood and Cesca Major, who should also be in the previous paragraph, and who have been better cheerleaders than Kirsten Dunst.

To all the book bloggers I’ve chatted and squealed and tweeted about books with. Thank you for chatting and tweeting about mine.

Thank you to Katy Jones, who set me on course.

Thank you to my friends and family – to Emily and Joe for all the advice, to Tina, Debbie, Judy and cousin Rachel for being so enthusiastic about my stories, and to Tom, Sandra, Jon, Lisa, Tim and Suzanne. To Lynsey, who has been a huge support – I can’t wait for your book! To Kate and Tim for all the laughs, for Crete and the Hibiscus. To Kate Gaustad, my BFF for over 20 years, who will disown me for calling her that.

To the best teamies ever – Chris ‘The Rottweiler’ Williams, Well Done Ben Dunne, and Anne (bah) Tansley Thomas – who put up with my aspiring author stories on a daily basis, and now have to cope with all the published author ones too. This is BONKERS.

To Katy Chilvers, for being possibly more excited than me, and for helping with my romantic hero research. Aramis has a lot to answer for.

To anyone who reads my book – you have helped make my dream come true. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to my sister, Lucy, who wrote the best murder mystery (aged 12) and gave me something to aspire to. Thank you to Mum and Dad for their unfailing support and inspiration; for reading everything and giving me unbiased, constructive feedback and entirely biased encouragement. I feel very lucky that I get to be your daughter.

Thank you to David, who has believed in me from the very first word, through all the hard bits and the fun bits and the champagne, and is the most amazing person I have ever met. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to write these acknowledgements without you.

And finally, to the dogs I have known and loved. To Max and Timmy, who let me share their basket, to Huey and Ella and Humph, to beautiful, mischievous Wags and to Pete (Worst Dog) and his fear of the wooden hippo. You won’t be able to read this, but you’re all in there somewhere.

Read on for an exciting sneak peek into the ongoing story of the residents of Primrose Terrace and their lovable pooches in…
Sunshine and Spaniels
.