Page 21 of A French Country Escape
Sasha put the bowls of food down on the floor and as the pups started to feed, she thought about names. They both had the typical white tips at the end of their tails and whilst one had a white splodge on two paws rather like misshapen mittens, the other had a blaze of white on her chest – reminding her of a pony she’d ridden years ago called Mimi. Sasha laughed out loud. There were her names. Mimi and Mitzi. Perfect. Although as one was going to be Freddie’s, she’d have to let him have the final say on one of the names.
Both the puppies were in the box sleeping when Freddie arrived home later that evening. ‘How are they?’
‘Lovely. Great time-wasters, though. I’ve been playing with them most of the afternoon,’ Sasha confessed, watching Freddie drop to his knees in front of the box. The one Sasha thoughtof as Mitzi rolled slowly over and waited for him to scratch her tummy.
‘What are we going to call them?’ Freddie asked.
‘How do you feel about Mitzi for that one?’ Sasha pointed to the puppy with the white paws and then to the other one. ‘And Mimi for this one,’ she said, scooping her up and cuddling her. ‘Which one do you want to be yours?’
Freddie tried out the names. ‘Mimi. Mitzi. Yep, they work. I’ve been thinking too. They’ll be happier staying together rather than me having one and you having one – they can simply be ours. We’ll duplicate beds and food bowls in each cottage and they can have the run of both places. I’ll pop into town tomorrow and pick up two proper dog beds.’
16
Sasha was up early after a sleepless night worrying about Mimi and Mitzi being all right on their own without their mum. They’d seemed settled in their box when she’d left them and she’d only heard the occasional short bark during the night. Downstairs, she cautiously opened the kitchen door and the two pups, awake and busy exploring the kitchen, rushed over to greet her.
Opening the back door, she shooed them both out into the garden and picked up the newspapers the puppies had weed on and threw them away before replacing them with fresh ones. The morning was warm enough to leave the kitchen door open while she planned her day as she made and drank a coffee. Staying close to the puppies for most of their first twenty-four hours seemed like a good idea, so Sasha decided to tidy the terrace. That way, she could have the kitchen door open, and the puppies could come and go between the garden and the kitchen.
It took her longer than she’d anticipated to weed all the old tubs and sweep the terrace clean in between playing with the pups. It was mid-afternoon when Sasha left Mimi and Mitzi curled up sleeping together in their box bed, shut the kitchen door so they couldn’t wander into the rest of the cottage, andwalked up to the château to see how Ingrid was, and to check the guests had arrived and were happy.
Ingrid and Peter were in the small sitting room when she got there. Ingrid had her foot, grossly swollen still, and a psychedelic mix of reds and purples, up on a stool. She was trying to read, a crutch balanced against her chair, and Peter was leafing through a file of papers.
‘Are the guests here?’ Sasha asked. ‘Happy?’
‘Very happy. So a certain person who was worrying unnecessarily has now relaxed,’ and Peter glanced affectionately across at Ingrid.
‘What time would you like me to come in the morning to sort the breakfasts?’ Sasha asked.
‘Lovely of you to offer, but they’ve said they’d like a simple French breakfast – croissants, pastries and coffee. Which means a quick trip to the village boulangerie in the morning,’ Peter said. ‘And I can make coffee no problem.’
‘Would you like me to come up again once they’ve gone out for the day and make the bed, tidy up the bedroom and en suite?’ Sasha asked.
‘That would be great if you could,’ Ingrid said. ‘Thank you.’
‘See you both sometime tomorrow morning then,’ Sasha said. ‘I’d better get back to the cottage and check Mimi and Mitzi are behaving themselves.’
‘Love those names,’ Ingrid said. ‘How are they settling in?’
‘Fine. They’re adorable. I’m not getting a lot done though.’
After Sasha had left, Ingrid and Peter stayed in the sitting room for a while, until Peter went through to the kitchen to make them each a toasted sandwich for supper. Ingrid, leaning heavily onher crutches, took her time to follow him and sank gratefully onto a kitchen chair just as her phone rang.
‘It’s Rory. Do I answer?’ she said, anxiously looking at Peter.
‘Yes, put it on speaker.’
‘Hello, Rory,’ Ingrid said.
‘I want to speak to Penny and her phone is switched off. Could you fetch her?’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want to speak to you, if she’s switched her phone off. Why do you think she’s here?’
‘She stood me up last night. Promised to meet me but didn’t turn up. Emma has given me some cock-and-bull story about her going to the Lake District for a new job. When we both know France is where she’d run to. Look, just give her the phone.’
‘But she’s not here.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Rory shouted down the phone.
‘I’m not.’ Ingrid looked at Peter helplessly and mouthed ‘What do I do? Shall I cut him off?’
