CHAPTER SIX
Okay, that wasn’t so bad, Gretta thought, when she opened her eyes the next morning. The fact that she’d woken up meant she’d had some sleep and hadn’t lain awake all night arguing with the dog.
A firm ‘No’ or two from her when Bertie had tried to jump onto the bed seemed to have done the trick. Tonight (if he was still with her by then, and she was hoping he wouldn’t be) she would attempt to get him to settle in the kitchen. Having a dog in the bedroom wasn’t acceptable, but at least he’d spent the night on the floor where he belonged.
She was lying on her right side, on the side of the bed that used to be hers once upon a time (old habits) and it took her a moment to realise something wasn’t right.
It was the smell that alerted her. A distinctly doggy smell…
Slowly, she rolled onto her other side – and came face-to-face with Bertie .
He was sprawled across her pillow, fast asleep, and as she glared at him, his paws twitched and he uttered little huffing breaths. He was dreaming.
If she hadn’t been so appalled that he’d spent the night in her bed, she might have thought it cute.
Where was Zaza? Her cat normally slept with her. If he’d ousted her, Gretta would be most displeased.
But to her surprise, Zaza was lying at the foot of the bed.
Gretta had taken a risk in allowing both animals access to the bedroom, but after Jakob’s intervention yesterday, cat and dog had appeared to get along. Actually, that wasn’t the right turn of phrase: Zaza had ignored Bertie with calculated contempt, apart from when he got too close and then she’d hissed and spagged him. It had taken one swipe of a clawed paw across his nose, which had made him yelp, for Bertie to be put in his place.
All evening, he’d kept shooting Zaza anxious and slightly pleading looks, as though he wanted to make friends but didn’t dare, and slowly Gretta had relaxed, although she’d continued to keep a very wary eye on the dog, until she was convinced that Zaza had the upper hand and Bertie respected the cat’s boundaries.
Which was why Gretta was surprised to find both animals on her bed this morning. But not pleased. She was far from pleased.
Now she’d have to wash the bedding, and when a suspicious noise came from Bertie’s back end, followed by a fug of revolting smell, she let out a cry of disgust and leapt out of bed.
Bertie woke with a startled grunt, saw her and wagged his tiny tail, a worried expression in his eyes. Gretta immediately felt awful; he thought he was about to get a telling off, which he should do considering she’d made it plain that he wasn’t welcome on the bed and he knew he was in the wrong; but she couldn’t bring herself to scold him.
Who knew that dogs’ faces could be so full of expression?
‘Off,’ she told him, and he got to his feet and slunk to the edge of the bed, dropping onto the floor with a thud. Zaza watched him, and Gretta wondered what the cat was thinking.
It was early, about six thirty, but that was a good thing, because she wanted to get stuck into a new project that one of her clients had tasked her with. Re-vamping a website was right up her street and would keep her busy for hours.
She supposed she should take Bertie for a walk at some point. She’d read that a tired dog was a happy dog, and surely those little legs of his wouldn’t take a lot of walking to wear them out?
A shower first though, then breakfast.
To her consternation, Bertie followed her into the bathroom and sat watching as she began to remove her pyjamas. Thinking that he might need a wee, she ushered him downstairs, and this time she wasn’t moved by his hurt expression as she shoved him into the garden and closed the door on his flat little face. He could stay there until she’d finished showering, as there was no way she was going to do that with an audience!
‘I can’t find him! He’s disappeared!’ Gretta’s voice was panicked.
‘ Whoa, slow down. What do you mean you can’t find him?’ When Jakob thought he might hear from Gretta again, he’d assumed it would be because she couldn’t cope with the Frenchie, not because she’d lost him.
‘I let him into the garden for a wee and when I went to let him back in, he wasn’t there. I’ve been calling and calling.’ She hitched in a breath. ‘It’s my fault. I should have let him stay in the bathroom with me, but I didn’t want him watching me take a shower.’
Jakob’s own breath caught as an image of Gretta naked, with water cascading over her, swam into his head.
Shocked, he blinked to clear it, as she continued, ‘I can’t see how he could have got out. There’s a six-foot fence all around.’ She wailed, ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘I’ll come right over.’ It was his day off and he hadn’t intended to go anywhere near Picklewick today, but needs must. He’d have to take the dogs with him though, as he didn’t know how long he’d be out.
Jakob had a quick shower of his own, trying not to think about Gretta as he did so, grabbed a couple of brownies in lieu of a proper breakfast, and bundled the dogs into the car.
His two bounded into their crates, full of enthusiasm (they loved a car ride), but Trixie was more reluctant, so Jakob lifted her up and gently deposited her in the same crate as Ripley. Ripley, bless him, gave her a reassuring lick on the nose.
She was still nervous and anxious, but Jakob could see that she was taking her cues from his dogs, trusting them before she’d learn to trust him, but he was okay with that. She’d get there eventually and when she did, she’d be ready for her forever home.
Gretta was peering through the window when Jakob pulled up in front of her house and she hurried to open the door.
She looked so worried that his heart gave a squeeze and he had an urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he hastily squashed it. He was done with holding women, because holding didn’t mean keeping hold . He’d failed spectacularly in keeping hold of Clare. She’d repeatedly slipped through his fingers until one day she’d been gone for good.
Concerned that Clare was continuing to invade his thoughts, Jakob’s voice was gruffer than he intended when he said to Gretta, ‘Show me.’
Wordlessly, she led him through the kitchen and into the garden.
It was oblong, around ten metres long and as wide as the house, so not too big. It sported a square lawn surrounded by shrubs and bushes, with a terrace leading off the back door. In the corner was a wooden shed, and the whole thing was enclosed by a high burlap fence. Jakob would be shocked if the dog had scaled it, although it wasn’t unheard of for small dogs to get over high fences. Bertie, however, was too portly for such athleticism. He might get through it though, and with that in mind, Jakob peered under the bushes and behind the shrubs.
‘He’s not hiding,’ Gretta said. ‘I checked.’
‘Ah, but did you check for gaps in the fence?’
‘There aren’t any.’
He paused, holding aside a dense shrub. ‘There wasn’t ,’ he corrected. ‘But there is now.’
The hole was small and unobtrusive, and it wasn’t in the fence itself. Bertie had dug underneath it.
‘The little…’ Gretta trailed off. ‘So that’s what he was doing the other day when he was covered in dirt. He must have been digging.’
‘Is that Mr Butler’s house?’ Jakob guessed, and she nodded.
‘Why isn’t he coming back when I call him?’ she asked. ‘He can’t get in the house, so he must be in the garden.’
‘Because he doesn’t want to. He’s looking for his owner.’
‘Oh, that’s so sad.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ Jakob agreed, gazing over the fence, his height giving him an advantage. ‘I see him.’
‘What’s he doing?’
‘Sitting on the step.’
Bertie looked thoroughly despondent, and Jakob’s heart melted. Animals didn’t understand when their owners died, and it was awful to see their continual hope that their human would appear.
Jakob asked, ‘This might sound awful, but was Mr Butler still alive the last time Bertie saw him?’
‘Yes. They took him away in an ambulance.’
‘That explains it. Bertie is expecting him to come back.’
Gretta’s eyes filled with tears, and once again he wanted to comfort her. ‘Let’s go get him,’ he said instead.
‘He’ll do it again, won’t he?’
‘Probably.’
‘How can I stop him? I mean, I can block up this hole, but he’ll only dig another.’
‘That’s his home, so it’s only natural he wants to go back to it. It’s a pity you don’t have anything of Mr Butler’s with his scent on. It might help comfort him.’
‘I could get something,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got a key to his house. Would you come with me?’
‘As long as we’re quick. I’ve got my own dogs in the car. I was about to take them for a walk when you phoned.’
‘I haven’t taken Bertie out yet,’ she said.
Was she hinting that he could walk Bertie for her? Because if so, it was a bit of a cheek. She’d already disrupted his morning.
As she fetched the key to next door, she said, ‘I’m not sure where to take him.’
‘Around the block will do. But don’t let him off the lead,’ he warned.
‘I wasn’t planning on it. Isn’t there anywhere more exciting than around the block?’
‘You tell me – you’re the one who lives in Picklewick.’
‘I hardly know the area. My walks are to the shops and back.’
‘You’re not local?’ He was surprised.
‘No.’ She stepped into the street, looked up and down it, then locked her front door. Blimey, Jakob thought, how long did she expect to be in her neighbour’s house for?
‘Habit,’ she explained, when she saw him staring. ‘Can’t be too careful.’
Despite Mr Butler having only been gone a couple of days, the place already felt unlived in, and Jakob wondered whether Bertie sensed it too, because as soon as the dog trotted inside, his expression hopeful, he stopped and his whole demeanour changed. Jakob’s heart went out to him as he dashed from room to room, whining, his cries becoming more heart-wrenching as he realised his owner wasn’t there.
Gretta shot Jakob a desperate look. ‘There must be something we can do.’
‘Unfortunately, there isn’t.’
‘I hope someone comes to fetch him soon.’
So did Jakob. The sooner little Bertie was settled, the better.
‘What should I take?’ Gretta asked, gazing around.
‘Something with his owner’s scent on: a scarf, a shirt…anything as long as it hasn’t been laundered recently.’
‘Will this do?’ She held up a bobbled navy cardigan.
Jakob took it from her and offered it to Bertie to sniff. The dog whined again. ‘I think so,’ he said, and was relieved when Gretta picked Bertie up and carried him to the front door. The dog’s sadness was palpable.
‘If that’s all—’ he began, eager to see to his own precious pooches, but Gretta cut him off.
‘Can I come with you?’
Jakob hesitated, a suspicion beginning to form. ‘You’ve never taken a dog for a walk before, have you?’ He didn’t think the trip to the Post Office counted.
‘So? I bet you’ve never formatted an ebook before.’
‘Is that what you do?’
‘One of the things.’ She gazed at him defiantly.
‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Not everyone likes dogs.’
‘It’s not that I don’t like them…’
‘But you’re more of a cat person?’
‘Correct. So, can I come with you on your walk?’
‘It’ll be a long one,’ he warned.
‘That’s fine. I don’t mind a long walk, but could I grab some breakfast first? I can make you something, too?’
‘I’ve got my dogs with me,’ he reminded her. ‘I don’t like leaving them in the car for long. How about we grab a coffee and something to go from the cafe in the village? I haven’t had any breakfast yet, either. I was going to have a brownie.’
Gretta stopped, a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I was in such a panic, I didn’t think. You’ve got to get to work and—’
‘It’s my day off.’
‘In that case, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than spend it running around after a dimwit woman who is nervous about taking a dog for a walk.’
Actually, he didn’t, and the thought of spending time with Gretta was rather appealing.
However, he brushed that aside and convinced himself the real reason was that he wanted to make sure she knew how to take care of Bertie if no one came forward. And that maybe, just maybe , if no one claimed him, Bertie might find his forever home with Gretta.
Jakob even managed to make himself believe it – because what other reason could there be since he’d vowed to never again risk losing his heart?