Page 45 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
Livvy looked at Mark, a broad grin splitting her face. She didn’t know if it was the crisp weather, the blue skies, or the simple pleasure of being with a man she liked, but a rush of joy radiated through her. ‘What do you think? Come on, Angel, let’s get to the top of the field and enjoy the view.’
After another half hour walking Angel around the field and returning to explain their decision, Norman’s goodbye was cursory. He almost ran back into the farmhouse and slammed the door.
‘Oh,’ Livvy said as Angel whimpered after him. ‘I was going to tell him to come over and see her any time.’ She looked down at the distressed dog. Angel’s tail had gone between her legs, and she was straining at the lead to follow her old owner. ‘Is he going to be alright, do you think? Will Angel be okay?’
Mark put a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘Pete will have his number. You can ring him. I think it was easier for him to just go. He must have been very attached to her.’
‘Am I doing the right thing?’ Livvy turned to him, suddenly unsure. ‘I just want them both to be happy with the decision.’
‘Absolutely.’ He cupped her cheek and said tenderly, ‘Angel’s too old to work at full capacity. Norman knows that. He alsoknows she’s going to have a splendid retirement. He just can’t bear to say goodbye.’
‘How did you get to be so kind?’
‘I don’t think I’m all that kind.’
‘Oh you are. The kindest man I’ve ever known.’
Their lips hovered near, tantalisingly close, in search of a kiss and then Angel pawed at Livvy’s leg.
‘Think she’s impatient to go,’ Livvy said, her voice trembling.
‘Best get her in the car then. Hope she fits alongside all the other stuff.’
To Livvy’s surprise, earlier that morning, Mark had gone to a pet superstore in Axminster. He’d bought the basics: food and bowls, a cosy bed, a few toys. One in the shape of a Christmas pudding complete with smiley face and squeak. He’d shown it to her with glee. Norman insisted they keep Angel’s slip lead and had loaned them a crate for the journey. The purchases were crammed onto the back seat, leaving the boot for the dog.
Angel obligingly hopped up into her travelling crate, turned round three times and settled.
After changing out of their filthy boots and squeezing them in next to Angel, Livvy and Mark got in for the journey home.
‘I hope she’s okay,’ Livvy worried. ‘She must wonder what’s going on.’
Mark switched the engine on and ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ flooded the car making Angel bark. ‘Obviously not a Chris Rea fan,’ Livvy said, as she clipped on her seatbelt.
Mark eased the car down the drive, trying to avoid the potholes. ‘She’s not the only one.’ He joined the lane, driving gently so as not to alarm the dog. He glanced into the rear-view mirror at the crate. ‘She’s obviously used to travelling by car, or in the back of Norman’s van: she’s lying down now.’ He flicked a look at Livvy. ‘She’ll be absolutely fine. She’ll adapt. Dogs do. And I’m on hand to help out. Although I haven’t got a dognow, we always had them when Nats and I were kids. I’m not a complete novice.’
‘Just as well as I don’t have a clue.’
‘Tell you what, why don’t we stop off at Burton Bradstock? If you’ve got time? We can take her on the beach. Wear her out a bit. We can give her lots of fuss and treats – there’s enough on the back seat to keep her going until the next millennium. We can grab a coffee at the Hive. I might even treat you to a scone and clotted cream.’
Livvy peered out at the weather. It was still a blue and white magnificently crisp December day, but it hadn’t warmed up at all and she was appreciating the car’s heated seats. It wasn’t the cold that was bothering her though. ‘Do you think she’ll come back to us if we let her off the lead somewhere strange?’
‘She should do. She’s trained to the whistle and she was pretty good to heel back in the field. Or we can keep her on the lead until she’s got used to us.’
Livvy watched as the frozen hedges blurred past. There was a lot ofusandwein those sentences. Part of her was hugely relieved that Mark was helping her out with the dog, part of her wondered why. And part of her queried what was in it for him.
It was developing into an odd relationship. A friendship but with an edge of sexual attraction, with the promise of something more and something far more complex. But it was all so uncertain. She was pretty sure he saw her as a friend and nothing more. Whereas her feelings were veering in another direction entirely. Was it ever possible for a man and a woman to have a purely platonic relationship?
She eyed him surreptitiously as he concentrated on driving. He really was very good-looking. Strong nose, lovely warm intelligent eyes and that glorious hair which swooped over his face and which caught the light from the sky. It was most unfair that a man should have such shiny, thick hair. Her own darkblonde was suffering from a serious lack of attention; she hadn’t visited a salon for months and it was usually tied back for work. Making a mental note to ask Simona where the best one was, her mouth quirked; she doubted she could afford to go where Simona frequented.
Mark picked up her humour. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘I was admiring your hair and thinking how terribly unfair it is that you have such gorgeous locks.’
Mark grinned. ‘Nats thinks so too. She inherited our mother’s blonde hair. Lovely ash-blonde but on the thin side. I have my father’s genes to thank for mine, although it’s darkened a lot from when I was a little boy. Must be the Viking blood. There’s a lot of us in Yorkshire.’ He glanced at her. ‘Nats would kill for your honey blonde. It’s the colour she always asks her stylist to do and never quite achieves it.’
Livvy ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. ‘I was also thinking of asking Simona for a recommendation for a hairdresser. If I can afford it.’
‘Ah, that might be the problem. Simona’s not short of a bob or two. She’ll certainly be able to recommend one, but it won’t be cheap.’
