Wellies and Westies (5 page)

Once he’d gone, Cat felt the silence like a weight. She wasn’t used to being at home during the morning. And Joe thought she was funny? She rubbed her forehead, reached out for her mug that was no longer there, and hit the ‘load new tweets’
button.

Jessica Heybourne had followed her – and replied! Cat bit her lip.
@PoochPromenade: A dog walker in Fairview? Are you new? I need to know more! Message me.
Cat’s triumphant squeal filled the room, echoing off the high ceiling, and she thought she heard Joe’s office door open, wait a beat, then click shut.

Twenty minutes later, against a darker sky and even heavier rain, the doorbell rang. It was a high, optimistic trill and Cat rushed to answer it. In a series of direct messages, Jessica’s enthusiasm for Cat’s new business had almost surpassed her own, and the celebrity author had insisted on visiting her personally, right away. Cat had changed out of her dressing gown into a navy ruffle-collared shirt and smart jeans, run a brush through her short hair and framed her large dark eyes with mascara.

She opened the door to see Jessica – even more attractive than her photo – smiling up at her from beneath the hood of a wide-belted navy trench-coat, a cloud of white, soggy fur at her feet.

Cat glanced behind her, listened for a second and then welcomed them in. ‘Hi, Jessica, thank you so much for coming. I’m Cat.’

‘Lovely to meet you.’ Jessica slipped off her hood, and her blonde hair cascaded down her back. ‘And this is Valentino, Coco and Dior.’ She gestured to the Westies in turn as they snuffled at Cat’s bare feet, their wet noses tickling her skin, and explored the new space with enthusiasm. One of them took hold of Joe’s running shoe, and Cat gently prised it from the dog’s mouth, checked it for tooth marks and put it on the stairs. She prayed that Shed wouldn’t appear, that Joe wouldn’t decide he needed a top-up of coffee. If he realized she’d let three dogs into the house…she pushed the thought away and stroked each of the dogs in turn, and they responded without a hint of shyness, all keen to lap up the extra attention.

They were wearing different-coloured velvet collars dotted with sparkling stones, which Cat thought probably weren’t made out of glass. One of the dogs – was it Coco? – had his right ear bent over, as if affecting a slight vulnerability. Cat stroked the ear; the fur was unbelievably silky. They were friendly, pure white bundles of love, and Cat could feel her heart giving way.

‘They’re beautiful. How often do you walk them?’ Cat stood so she was back on eye level with Jessica.

‘Well, at least once a day, and it’s easy having Primrose Park so close by, but I do sometimes run out of time, and I’m sure they’d like more.’ Jessica’s voice was low and breathy, even though she’d only walked a few hundred yards, and Cat wondered if it was deliberate, along with her ditziness – she’d lived in the area long enough to know what the park was called – as part of a persona. ‘I’m on my own, you see,’ Jessica added, ‘and it’s hard sometimes.’

Cat nodded. ‘I know what that’s like. Is it…recent?’ She held her breath, wondering if she’d pushed it too far.

Jessica studied her dogs for a moment. ‘Quite recent. I…I’ve had a bit of a time of it, but I’m coming out the other side, emerging, slowly, from my chrysalis. Things are looking more positive, exciting almost. But I couldn’t have done it without my designer dogs. They’ve kept me sane, and they deserve the best.’

‘Well, I can definitely help with that,’ Cat said softly. ‘I’ll treat them as if they were my own. I – I’m sorry I can’t invite you in. My housemate’s working.’ She gestured towards the living room.

‘Oh, no, of course. I can’t stay long anyway, but I did want to meet you. And I wanted you to meet my boys.’ She gave an exaggerated flourish, but her smile was warm, her pale eyes meeting Cat’s easily.

‘They’re lovely. Really, really lovely. I’d be very happy to walk them as frequently as you needed – on a trial basis, and then more permanently if everything works out. I can’t see why it wouldn’t, but the trial is just so we’re all happy – you, me and your Westies.’

‘What other dogs do you have?’

‘Two mini schnauzers at the moment, but I’ve only been going…’ She stopped, thinking about Joe’s insistence that she be professional. ‘We’re a very new business, so we’re still building our client list.’

‘Sounds perfect! I love mini schnauzers.’

‘They belong to Elsie, next door.’

‘Oh, I think I’ve seen them – one’s still a puppy.’

‘That’s Disco,’ Cat said. ‘She’s a handful, but worth every bit of trouble.’

‘They all are.’ Jessica’s beautiful face broke into a grin, and Cat felt herself warming to her. ‘So, how about tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘I have to go to London, and these poor poppets will be left alone. Your tweet has come at the perfect time! Could you collect them about eleven? I’ve got a spare key.’ She pulled it out of her pocket and dangled it on an elegant finger.

‘Of course.’ Cat took the key, surprised that Jessica was so instantly trusting. ‘And they’re OK with treats?’

‘They’re smothered in treats,’ Jessica confirmed. ‘They’ll be very put out if you don’t give them any. Won’t you, darlings?’

Valentino looked up at his owner, waggled his hind legs and let out a short, loud yip.

‘Fantastic!’ Cat squealed, glancing behind her, and Jessica took a step backwards. ‘That’s brilliant. Thanks so much for coming, Jessica. I’ll pick up Valentino, Coco and Dior tomorrow.’ She grinned, hoping her words would have the desired effect. ‘We can sort out payment and a proper schedule after that.’

‘Perfect,’ Jessica said softly. ‘Lovely to meet you, Cat.’

‘And to meet all of you.’ She bent, ruffled each of the Westies behind the ears, then felt her shoulders relax as Jessica put her hood back up and opened the door. The dogs trotted happily out into the rain and Jessica turned, planted a highly perfumed kiss on Cat’s stunned cheek, and stepped into the shallow porch leaving a trail of Coco Mademoiselle behind her. She made her way carefully down the front steps, and Cat saw that she was wearing boots with four-inch heels. Cat gave the author a final wave, closed the door gently behind her, leaned against it and shut her eyes. She exhaled loudly, and felt her breath catch as the landing floorboard creaked.

She opened her eyes.

‘Joe.’

He had his arms folded, his blond brows lowered. ‘Was that dogs? In here?’

‘Joe, I’m so—’

‘You know how I feel about them, Cat. And what do you think would have happened if Shed had come in? For God’s sake, don’t you ever
think
? How many were there? More than one from all the snuffling and the – the smell.’ He came slowly down the stairs, and Cat could almost feel his fury growing.

‘Three,’ she said. ‘They belong to Jessica Heybourne and she – she wants me to walk them. I’m sorry they had to come in, but it was raining, and it was only for a few minutes. She’s my first proper client.’

He was one step above her, looking down, and Cat could see more than just anger in his expression. She felt her excitement shrivel, Joe’s disappointment crushing her more than she had thought it would. He nodded, and for a second Cat thought he was going to back down, to agree that yes, it had been justified, and hooray for her new client.

‘Don’t bring dogs in here,’ he said instead. ‘I don’t ask too much, I think I’m pretty reasonable, but please,
please
don’t bring dogs into this house. If you think that’s going to be hard because of Pooch Promenade,
well then…’ He glanced away, looked back at her and then slid past her into the living room, his shoulder grazing hers. Cat stayed where she was, feeling hurt and wronged and indignant, and pretty sure that she understood what Joe’s unfinished sentence meant: work out a way to run Pooch Promenade without bringing dogs here, or find somewhere else to live.

Chapter 3

Cat set out early into weather that had been summoned to test her resolve, wearing a black double-breasted jacket and skinny jeans, neither of which were waterproof enough. But not even the rain could dampen her spirits. She had done it. She had got two clients besides Elsie, and she was officially walking dogs. It was the first step, but hopefully the first of many with her four-legged friends.

As she’d picked up Disco and Chalky, Elsie had given her a shoulder squeeze and a meaningful look as if she was heading into battle. Then she’d collected the three Westies. Jessica had answered the door wearing a coral dressing gown, and had been much less forthcoming than the first time they’d met, her mind on an upcoming event or her editor’s latest notes. Cat imagined her leaning on a marble countertop, ingredients laid out around her, typing on a sleek MacBook Air as she created a delicate, exquisite dish, the dogs lying at her feet. It was an elaborate daydream, but one which Jessica fitted perfectly into, and Cat preferred thinking about that than the sadness she’d seen in the author’s eyes as she’d hinted at a less than happy past.

Cat buried her head in her collar as she negotiated the dogs past a woman with a pushchair, the hood pulled low to prevent the baby from being splattered with rain.

Cat’s second client was a man called Terry, who lived in one of the large seafront houses, and his Rhodesian ridgeback Bertha. He wasn’t likely to be a frequent customer, but while his mother was in hospital he was having to spend a lot of time in Dorset, and couldn’t keep dragging Bertha backwards and forwards only to leave her outside the hospital, confused and alone. Cat knew it was a risk, taking such a large, strong dog out with five smaller ones, but she wasn’t going to turn down business so soon. Once she had a few more dogs she could stagger her walks, match the pets up like a dating agency – who was most suited to walk with who.

With all six dogs on their leads, she turned away from the churning, foaming sea, the seaside car park all but deserted, and towards Fairview Park. The Westies were very well behaved, only occasionally straying into the path of a passer-by, and Bertha was at the back, gliding on her long legs, with Chalky trotting along beside. Disco was causing Cat the most trouble, but only because – with five other dogs to be excited by – she had reached maximum bounce. She was yapping constantly and bounding in all directions, barging into Valentino and getting under Cat’s feet. The Westies were good-natured, but Cat didn’t think they would ignore her for ever.

The sky was low, the spring colours muted as she turned into the park, and it took Cat a moment to realize that her control would be short-lived. All six dogs recognized this as their stomping ground, and Cat knew that Bertha and Chalky were often allowed off their leads within the gates. Not today though. Cat was hoping – on her first walk at least – to return with the same number of dogs she’d started with.

Suddenly Bertha was at the front of the pack, the other dogs skittering along behind. Only Chalky remained alongside her, and when she glanced down he looked up at her with dark, mournful eyes. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she whispered, quickening her pace to try and keep up with the pack. ‘It’s going to be fine. Doggies,’ she called, ‘come on, doggies! Slow down a bit.’

They ignored her.

Cat trotted down the path, past a young family, the eldest boy riding a bike with stabilizers, and an old couple walking hand in hand, wearing matching woolly hats. She could see a pair of red setters in the distance, their sleek coats standing out against the gloom, and a sprightly collie chased a tennis ball across the grass.

She took a deep breath and pulled on the leads. ‘Bertha! Valentino, Coco, Dior! Slow down!’ And then, hopeful of receiving some loyalty from the dog she knew best, ‘Disco, treat time!’ Disco’s bounding changed direction and her little paws were on Cat’s shins, her tail wagging. Cat came to a halt and grinned at the puppy, her breathing calmer. The other dogs slowed and then stopped, and she suddenly had the attention of six pairs of eyes.

‘Good, good dogs,’ she panted. ‘Excellent dogs. Phew, thank God. ’ She reached into her pocket and gave each dog a treat. They chewed them down and looked expectantly up at her, ready for another.

‘Having a bit of trouble, are we?’ Cat froze at the words which, while perfectly friendly, came in a voice that was not.

‘I’m fine, thanks, Mr Jasper.’ He was standing a few feet away, his arms folded across his short, rounded frame. He was smiling, and only his dark eyes, and the tone of his voice, betrayed what he thought of her and her dogs.

‘Did you know that over one hundred people a year are injured in accidents that can be directly attributed to dogs, within Fairhaven alone?’

Cat gritted her teeth. The dogs strained at their leads and Dior whimpered softly. ‘I didn’t, but I don’t really have time—’

‘Dog walkers are a
menace
,’
Mr Jasper whispered, leaning in towards her, his features contorted like a gargoyle. ‘You can’t keep control of that many dogs. They’ll get loose and they’ll terrorize people.
You
are a menace, and I will put a stop to this.’

‘To what? To people earning a living, dogs getting exercise?’ Mr Jasper turned and strode quickly away. She called after him. ‘Are you going to stop people using the park altogether, so you can preserve it as some kind of natural relic?’ He didn’t turn, but picked up his pace.

‘OK,’ she said to her pack, ‘ignore him. Let’s try again. But I’d like you all to take a moment to consider how difficult this is for me, how I’m prepared to admit that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and that you can either hinder or help me. And we don’t want to give Mr Jasper any more ammunition, OK?’ They stayed where they were. ‘That’s it for now. One treat now, one at the end. Those are the rules. So…’ She waited. The dogs stayed still, apart from Disco, who was trying to destroy her left boot. ‘So…
GO!
’

The moment she said it, she realized it was a mistake.

Now she wasn’t walking, or even trotting, but was running to keep up with the dogs, the leads rubbing against her palms, wearing the skin sore. Chalky, his older bones not used to the pace, started whining. The Westies looked like summer clouds at her feet, Bertha like a small pony tearing out in front, and she couldn’t even see Disco. And then, like a flock of birds, their direction changed, and their barking got louder. They pulled her past the Pavilion café, and Cat thought she saw George staring at her, a tea towel in his hand, but she couldn’t be sure because she was focusing on not getting dragged behind the dogs like one of the tin cans on a wedding car.