Page 36 of Meet me at the Seaside Cottages

Janey winces. Galloway is just about as far from Carso as you could possibly get. A solid eight-hour drive on very narrow roads, or about eighteen hours by public transport. She might as well be living in Canada.

‘Well, surely she’ll want to come up and . . . ’

He shrugs and Janey feels the issue is immediately closed, like a door being slammed shut. ‘Well,’ she says. ‘First things first. Where is she going to stay?’

Lowell looks concerned. ‘Will she need looking after all day?’

‘I don’t think so,’ says Janey. ‘I think dogs have been having puppies for a really long time without going into hospital or anything.’

‘Yeah, she looks absolutely fine,’ says Lowell wonderingly.

‘I know,’ says Janey. ‘After Essie I lost three pints of blood and couldn’t walk for three days.’

‘Christ,’ he says, and Janey regrets mentioning it. He is a complete stranger who probably doesn’t need the image of her gushing blood from her vagina in his head. ‘No wonder you knew what to do.’

‘Yeah, dogs definitely have it easier,’ says Janey. ‘Hey, maybe she could stay here.’

She is Googling frantically on her phone. All new dog-mums need is somewhere reasonably cosy – the house isn’t heated, but it is sheltered, and the weather is warming up outside. With plenty of blankets they should all be okay.

‘Do you think that cowboy lad would mind?’

‘Mind?’ says Janey. ‘I think he’s already choosing a pup.’

‘But what about . . . won’t they poo and stuff?’

‘Well, I regret to inform you . . . ’ says Janey, and hands him the phone. He holds out while he fishes around for his glasses, and uncovers a horn-rimmed pair in his black pocket. They suit him.

‘Let’s have a look . . . oh. Yuk.’

‘I know,’ says Janey. ‘Barely worth the glasses.’

The web page informs them that the puppies will pee and poo, and the mother will eat it, to cover up their tracks from predators.

‘I wish I didn’t know that,’ says Lowell, rubbing his rumpled face. ‘Today is proving something of a steep learning curve.’

‘Well, if we all popped in, I’m sure we could manage it.’

Lowell looked at her. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah – my Essie is just hanging around at the moment and we’re only next door. Dwight will be here. If you pass him some cash, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.’

‘And then what will I do with the dogs?’

‘I think,’ predicted Janey wisely, indicating the children still hanging around outside, ‘that problem might solve itself.’

*

‘This is getting ridiculous,’ says Essie. ‘And very expensive.’

‘Naw!’ says Dwight. His enthusiasm is genuinely quite appealing, Essie thinks. Today his jeans are stonewashed. Where do you evenfindthose, never mind get them on? ‘It’s alright, I’ve got money.’

‘I thought you were being a big housing investment guru?’

He shrugs, as if slightly self-conscious that he’s been showing off. ‘Aye, whatever.’

‘Well, then, you should be watching costs like a hawk.’

He looks down at his basket, which contains some pouches of the most expensive dog food the Scot Nor had to offer, plus a blanket and a pillow from the expensive gift shop at the top of the town which has had an extremely slow start to the year and whose owner had been completely delighted by the arrival of Dwight and his jeans, which, Essie thinks, clearly show he will waste money on any old crap. Most adorably of all, Dwight has a set of six tiny Velcro collars in different colours, so they can identify the pups. Even Essie melts at these.

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