Chapter 16
16
Several miles away, Aiden was sitting in his car eating a ham and pickle roll and thinking about Jade. He couldn’t believe he still hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask her out. He was there most evenings. He’d felt certain that if he saw Jade so often, it’d be easy. He could just slip it into conversation.
‘Jade, do you fancy dinner some time? Only there’s this new Italian I’ve had recommended. I thought we could give it a try.’ Or, ‘Jade, how about we go into Salisbury and catch a film one night?’
He didn’t even know what type of films she liked, he thought gloomily, tearing the cellophane off another roll and frowning as a lump of pickle fell onto his lap. Somehow, every time he got Jade alone, all his carefully rehearsed lines seemed to freeze in his throat. Finn being around didn’t help. If Jade did turn him down, the last thing Aiden wanted was an audience.
Aiden was still smarting over the bloke’s accusation that he’d left Fang’s door open. Finn had cornered him about it a couple of days ago.
‘All locked up in there, mate?’ he’d murmured as Aiden came out of the quarantine block, having just settled Fang for the night. ‘We don’t want any more nasty incidents, do we?’
‘Are you trying to say something?’ Aiden snapped, the tone of Finn’s voice putting him instantly on the defensive.
‘Jade’s worried about that dog biting someone, which isn’t surprising after the fiasco with Ben. I was just checking you’d locked the door.’ The words ‘this time’ were never actually said, but they hung in the air between them.
‘I’m very well aware of Jade’s security arrangements, thank you.’ Aiden had known he sounded pompous and defensive, but was too cross to care. How dare Finn accuse him of not being careful? He’d only been here five minutes and already he was throwing his weight around.
‘I’m sure you are, but someone left that door unlocked.’
‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ Aiden had said, bristling with anger. He was sure – well, almost sure – that he hadn’t left the quarantine door unlocked, ever.
No doubt Finn had told Jade he was to blame too, although she’d been nice enough not to say anything about it.
Aiden tore his thoughts away from Finn before he got wound up all over again, ate the rest of the roll, and glanced at his watch. Ten past two. He’d best get on to his next call, which he wasn’t looking forward to. He was doing a home visit to euthanise an elderly cat, which had kidney failure and no quality of life left.
Aiden hated this part of his job. Mrs Heath was sensible and kind and would offer him cups of tea and home-made cherry cake, even while she was blinking back tears. And he’d have to stand and make polite conversation in her front room, made empty without the presence of Tiger, who’d been her only companion since her husband had passed away.
Maybe after this call he’d do something positive and phone and book a table at the new Italian place. It would also take his mind off Mrs Heath and her loneliness and, if he booked the table for tonight, he’d have to ask Jade to go with him. They’d need to take Ben, of course, but that was OK. Ben liked pizza. It crossed his mind that it might be too late for Ben on a school night, although Jade didn’t seem to mind taking Ben to the Red Lion. Maybe Finn would babysit. Aiden dismissed this possible setback for now.
He loved Italian food. He could almost smell the garlic. He imagined himself pouring Jade a glass of red wine. She’d catch his eyes across the candlelight and say, ‘This is nice. We ought to do it more often, Aiden.’
‘Yes, we should,’ he’d reply, and he’d touch her hand ever so casually. It was a pleasing picture and one that warmed him all the way to Mrs Heath’s pretty house.
At Duck Pond Rescue, Jade, Ben and Finn were in the caravan looking at some of Ben’s paintings. Ben was standing by the window. When they’d first come in, Finn had turfed Diesel off the seat, so they could sit down. Diesel had stalked outside in disgust. Ben wished he could go outside too. The caravan was musty and too small for the three of them, but Jade said she could keep an eye on things from here without too many distractions.
Ben watched Diesel cross the yard, carefully avoiding the puddles, and jump up onto the roof of the chicken run. The black cat didn’t seem very interested in the chickens. He was watching a couple of magpies in the field next door. As if suddenly aware of the danger, one of the magpies rose up in the air, its wings flapping against the white sky.
Ben wished he could be a bird, flapping his wings in the sky. Since the trouble with Fang, he hadn’t been allowed to wander around on his own as he usually did. Jade kept turning up to check what he was doing. He glanced back at the table where she was chatting to Finn. He didn’t know whether to feel pleased or embarrassed at all the fuss they were making over his pictures. He knew his paintings were good. Or at least some of them were. He could tell which ones were the best because of the little shivery feeling he got in his stomach when he finished them. If you didn’t get the feeling, then the painting was rubbish. Simple. He’d tried to explain it once to Miss Benson, his art teacher, but she’d just looked stern and told him he must never tell people something he’d done was good, but must wait for them to tell him.
He’d tried to explain it to his mum once, too. ‘All your paintings are wonderful, Ben,’ she’d said.
‘No, they’re not.’ He’d pressed his mouth into a straight line. ‘Some of them are rubbish.’
‘Don’t be silly. They’re all lovely.’ He’d given up then. He didn’t have the words to tell her properly about the shivery feeling. But he knew, as he watched Finn smoothing out the pieces of paper, that he would understand. Definitely.
‘Which are your favourites, then?’ Finn asked him now.
Ben pointed to a picture in the top right-hand corner of the table. It showed a tree bent over in the wind, with a lightning bolt in the dark sky behind it. Then he pointed to a small one of the chickens in their run. He’d spent ages getting the colours right for their feathers. ‘Those two are best, I think.’
Finn grinned in delight. ‘He’s right, you know. Those two are the best. Are either of his parents creative? It quite often runs in families.’
Jade frowned. ‘I don’t think Sarah’s ever tried to paint. I’m not sure about his dad.’
Ben wondered if he should mention his real dad had gone away before he was born, but something stopped him. They never talked about his dad. There weren’t even any photos of him in their house. And Mum didn’t like talking about him either; she always changed the subject when he asked.
He stared out of the window. ‘Can I go and see Candy’s puppies?’ he asked, without much hope, because Jade had been funny about him going near any dogs except Mickey lately.
‘We’ll go in a minute,’ she said. ‘Finn’s got some paintings in the Red Lion, Ben.’
‘Mike reckons he can sell them,’ Finn said, and he had a funny, jokey sound to his voice and Ben knew suddenly that Finn wasn’t sure if his own paintings were any good.
‘I’d love to see them,’ Jade added. ‘Perhaps we could all go up tonight. It’ll save me cooking. Do you fancy that, Ben?’
Ben sighed. Grown-ups spent far too much time talking, and for some reason they seemed to be even worse when they were in pubs. Although sometimes talking could be good, because it meant he could slip off. He looked at Finn. He was pretty sure Finn would let him try his beer when Jade wasn’t looking. And he’d be able to stay up later if they went to the pub.
‘OK,’ he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Jade turned back to Finn. ‘Shall I ask Aiden if he wants to come as well? He’s bound to be in soon.’
‘If you like.’ Finn didn’t sound bothered one way or the other. Ben didn’t blame him. He wasn’t over fussed on Aiden either – he was always in a rush.
‘So, can we go and see Candy’s puppies now?’ he begged.
Aiden was whistling as he pulled into the entrance of Duck Pond Rescue, just after five. It was all arranged. He’d booked a table at Da Vinci’s for seven. That should give Jade enough time to finish up here and get changed.
He could see her through the reception window as he locked the jeep door. She was talking to a young couple, but she still glanced out and waved. Aiden waved back. He’d pop up and see Fang while she was busy. Then he’d come back and casually mention the Italian. His heart pounded as he walked up the yard. It had been a good idea booking a table. He couldn’t chicken out now and change his mind.
On the way, he bumped into Dawn and Ben. They had Candy on a lead and were heading for the dog-walk field. That was good. Since the incident with Fang, Jade had been over cautious about Ben and dogs. Not that he blamed her. It could so easily have been a disaster. Aiden had discovered yesterday that he hadn’t been to blame for leaving the door unlocked. Dawn had confided it had been one of the young volunteers, but Aiden had kept this information to himself. Apparently the youngster felt bad enough already. It was better if everyone thought it was him. He had broad shoulders.
‘She’s looking well,’ he said, bending to stroke the lurcher’s pretty golden head. ‘How are the pups?’
‘They’re really cute,’ Ben told him. ‘They’re all playing now and Tiny’s put on loads of weight.’
Aiden already knew this, but he nodded seriously. ‘Has he now?’
‘We’re going to the Red Lion later to see Finn’s paintings,’ Ben added. ‘Auntie Jade’s going to ask you to come too.’
Aiden felt his heart sinking. It had to be Finn, didn’t it? Throwing a spanner in the works. ‘What paintings would these be?’
‘Pictures of fields,’ Ben said. ‘And he’s done some of people. He showed me one of Big Lil from the pub. ’
‘Jade’s looking forward to it,’ Dawn added. ‘She said there’s no end to Finn’s talents.’
‘Did she?’ Aiden stopped stroking Candy’s head and straightened up. It didn’t matter, he could still ask her. Surely she’d rather go for a meal with him than to the pub? But what if she said no? He knew he wouldn’t ask her and as he walked up towards Fang’s kennel, he felt as though all the sun had gone out of the afternoon.
On the way, he passed Finn carrying some tools. ‘All right, mate?’ Finn said pleasantly.
Aiden couldn’t bring himself to even speak.