Page 46 of You Only Live Once
‘I’d rather not, though.’
‘Then that makes two of us. Come on, sit down. I’ll serve that. You’ve had quite the day.’
I flicked a tea towel at his backside and made my way to the table.
* * *
The next couple of weeks went by fairly uneventfully. I did my best to put newspaper reports and internet gossip out of my mind and stayed away from the web as much as possible. Hopefully, as others had said, people had found something far more interesting to talk about by now. I hadn’t managed to go out beyond the safety of my garden again just yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but there was still something holding me back. I’d had a spurt of bravery, accompanying Jack to his parents’ and then exploring wider in the world, but I seemed to have taken a step backwards. The newspaper story about me and Jack had thrown a spanner in the works and reignited some insecurities. Somewhere in my brain a bit of logic was saying, if you keep out of sight, then they won’t talk about you. But there was another part of my brain that was hugely frustrated and wanted to kick the first part. In the meantime, I’d baked several cakes, bursting with calories, in the hope that it might spur me on to find the determination to walk it off. So far, however, I’d just ended up doing laps of the garden.
Jack waved as he passed the kitchen window. He wore a peaked cap, shading his eyes from the lowering sun of a beautiful spring day, and I was busy washing salad in the sink as he came in. I turned to say hi, then froze.
‘What is that?’
‘That’s Clive.’
I gave Jack a patient look that probably didn’t have an awful lot of patience in it. ‘Clive appears to be a golden retriever.’
‘Clive is a golden retriever, aren’t you, boy?’ he said, fussing with the dog who actually appeared to be smiling. Could dogs smile?
‘OK,’ I began again. ‘Let me rephrase this. What is Clive doing in my house?’
‘He needs a home.’
‘What’s wrong with his current home?’ I asked, as Jack pulled a small towel from his back pocket and gently wiped Clive’s feet, watching as the dog immediately lifted up each paw in turn ready for the procedure.
‘His current home is a foster home. He’s had a bit of a bad start, poor lad. The breeder didn’t want him because there was a problem…’ He stopped and then pointed in the vague area of his own crotch.
‘Oh God. That’s too much information right before dinner.’
‘So she was going to put him down.’
I gave him a horrified look.
‘I know. The woman I’m working for at the moment runs a small animal shelter. She managed to persuade the breeder to give Clive to her, and she rehomed him. Unfortunately, those people didn’t really understand anything about dogs, like their need for exercise in order to prevent boredom, et cetera. Then they wondered why, having been stuck in a flat with no garden and no exercise for five days, the dog, shall we say, redesigned some furniture.’
‘So you brought him here to chew mine? Brilliant.’
‘No. They took him back to the shelter. The owner has been fostering him ever since, training him, waiting until the right person came along. She didn’t want him pinging back and forth into unsuitable homes.’
‘I see. I know I did tell you to treat this place as your own, but it might have been an idea to talk to me before you decided to get a dog. Can you get him to stop looking at me like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘With those big… puppy dog eyes.’
‘He’s a puppy dog. Those are his eyes.’
‘Oh, very funny. You know what I mean.’
‘Actually, he’s out of the puppy stage. He’s two and a half now and really well trained. He’s been following me about the last couple of weeks while I’ve been doing work at this lady’s house.’
‘Which is all very lovely. But I still think you should have spoken to me before you decided to get a dog.’
‘Clive isn’t my dog.’
‘So he’s going back tomorrow?’
‘Not exactly. At least, I hope not. I got him for you.’
