CHAPTER SEVEN
Gretta was amazed how well Jakob could control three dogs on leads when she had her hands full with just the one. Bertie seemed to be over-excited at being out and kept trotting around her, forcing her to swap the lead from one hand to the other. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was lunging and pulling, or yanking at her arm when he stopped suddenly to sniff at something.
Jakob’s dogs were all walking nicely, although the scruffy one by the name of Trixie seemed to be more timid than well-trained.
‘I’m fostering her for the time being,’ Jakob explained when Gretta mentioned that she seemed a little scared. ‘We’ve no idea of her history, but I suspect she might have been abused.’
Gretta’s heart constricted. She mightn’t be a dog lover, but she simply couldn’t imagine how anyone could hurt one. ‘How long will you foster her for?’
‘For as long as it takes. If we can’t find a forever home for her, I’d like to get her to a point where she can go back to the kennels to live.’
‘You wouldn’t keep her?’
‘I can’t keep them all,’ he replied sadly. ‘There are so many dogs who need our help. Another one will soon come along who finds kennel life hard.’
‘Like Bertie?’
‘Exactly like Bertie. Do you want me to hold him while you order some food?’
They’d arrived at the cafe, and by mutual agreement they’d decided to eat there, rather than grab something to take with them. There were a couple of tables outside, and since the weather was nice, they could enjoy their breakfast in relative comfort.
‘I’ll have a bacon sarnie,’ he said, fishing in a pocket and withdrawing a wallet.
‘ I’m getting these. I owe you for—’
‘You don’t owe me anything. I did it for Bertie’s benefit.’
‘I see.’ She pressed her lips together.
Jakob, she was discovering, had little in the way of social graces. He said what he meant. Actually, she decided, as she went inside to place their order, that was a good thing. She’d been subjected to enough mind games with Landon. Jacob saying it as he saw it, was refreshing. And rare. At least she knew where she stood, and she appreciated that more than he would ever know.
She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was very much like a dog himself: no subterfuge, no hidden agenda, and he didn’t appear to be good at hiding his feelings. Jakob’s face and body language were as expressive as Bertie’s.
The comparison made her chuckle as she looked through the window and saw him with a pensive look on his face.
When she returned to the table bearing a little treat for each of the four dogs, the first thing he said to her was, ‘Have you got any poo bags?’
So that’s what he’d been thinking about whilst she’d been in the cafe – and she burst out laughing. Then stopped, her eyes wide. When was the last time she’d laughed spontaneously like that? She couldn’t remember; it had been such a long time ago. Abruptly, she worried he would take offence, and she shot him a cautious look.
He didn’t seem in the least bit bothered that she’d laughed at him. Well, not at him, exactly: more because of him.
‘I don’t actually own any,’ she admitted, giving Bertie his biscuit. He took it from her delicately and crunched it, scattering crumbs everywhere.
‘Here.’ Jakob pulled a handful out of his pocket.
She accepted them gingerly and pulled a face.
‘They haven’t been used,’ he assured her.
‘Thank goodness for that!’ She didn’t think they had been. It was just the thought of what was going to go in them that made her feel queasy.
‘They’re biodegradable, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ he said.
She hadn’t even thought about that, but it was nice to know he was concerned about the environment. She shoved the bags in her jean’s pocket. ‘Thanks. How much do I owe you?’
He gave her a look that she guessed meant he didn’t want any money for them.
Over their impromptu breakfast, Gretta realised she wanted to know more about him. It surprised her. She’d been so insular (by her own choice) during these past two years that she believed she didn’t need any social interaction, but she discovered she was rather enjoying being in his company.
Might it be because he didn’t see her as anything other than someone with a dog? That it was Bertie he was interested in, not her? That if it wasn’t for the dog, Jakob wouldn’t look at her twice.
To be honest, he wasn’t looking at her twice now, or even once. Bertie was what he was interested in, and his attention was currently on the dog, who was lying next to Trixie and licking her ear. Trixie didn’t seem to mind.
‘How long have you been a…?’ Gretta wasn’t entirely sure what his job was.
‘Kennel supervisor?’
She nodded.
‘Five years, give or take.’
‘Have you always wanted to work with animals?’
‘Always. I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m not good at doing anything else.’
‘How do you know?’ Her tone was light, almost teasing, which was most unlike her. ‘How many jobs have you tried and failed at?’
She was joking, but he took her seriously. ‘Too many.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t read ebooks.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You said you format ebooks. At least, I think that’s what you said.’
As a change of subject, it was clunky and obvious, but Gretta respected his privacy. After all, she was pretty protective of hers. ‘I do, among other things.’
‘Like what?’
She smiled as he batted her question back at her. ‘I’m a virtual PA, for authors mostly,’ and she explained what she did.
She went into more detail than she’d gone into with anyone else, including her family. Not their fault. Hers. She feared that if she told them too much about her life, they’d guess an awful lot more, and she’d hate it if they knew what a mess she’d made of things, how she’d allowed Landon to control her to the extent where she’d almost lost herself. Then there was also the suspicion that they wouldn’t be interested anyway. They never had in the past. Gretta had been the invisible child, the quiet sibling. The one no one took much notice of.
‘Did you always want to be a virtual PA?’ he asked, and for a moment she nearly told him the truth – that she’d ended up being one because Landon had hated her going out to work. He’d wanted her at home, where he could keep an eye on her. Then, after she’d left him, working from home on her own terms and hiding away from the world was what she’d needed. The isolation suited her. After all, during her time with Landon, she’d become very used to it. But the operative phrase here was on her own terms . These days she chose to live this way: it hadn’t been thrust upon her.
‘Not always. I kind of fell into it,’ she said.
‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.’ Her reply was sharp. Never again would she be coerced into doing something she didn’t want to do.
‘Are you good at it?’
‘Very.’
‘You don’t like people much, either,’ he said, and Gretta blinked.
‘I like people fine,’ she countered steadily.
‘ I don’t.’ There was that candour again, as though he didn’t care what anyone thought. ‘I prefer dogs,’ he added.
Gretta’s lips twitched. ‘I prefer cats.’
‘We should hate each other.’ Jakob grinned at her.
‘Who says we don’t?’ She grinned back, once again thinking how attractive he looked when he smiled. Quite sexy actually, in a rugged kind of way.
‘It’s marvellous the way a dog can break the ice,’ he said. ‘Shall we make a move? I think Bertie’s getting restless.’
Gretta noticed that Jakob’s dogs were still lying patiently, although Trixie looked more worried than patient, whereas Bertie was busily chewing his lead. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to chew right through it.
With a shake of her head, she held up the gnawed bit for Jakob to see.
‘On the way back, we can pop into the pet shop and buy him a chew,’ Jakob suggested. ‘It’ll keep him quiet and give him an outlet if he’s feeling stressed.’
‘A chew. Right. Anything else I need to know?’
‘Lots,’ he replied cheerfully.
Gretta sighed. ‘I thought there might be.’ But if she was honest, the prospect wasn’t as daunting as it could be, especially now that she had an expert on hand to advise her.
‘I didn’t realise there was a path leading from the village to the top of the mountain,’ Gretta puffed. They’d left Picklewick behind and were gradually climbing towards what Jakob had informed her was a riding school.
‘I don’t come this way myself very often,’ he said. ‘But some of the more active dogs need longer walks.’
Gretta stopped for a breather and looked back the way they’d come. The only time she’d been up here was when she’d taken Bertie to the kennels, and she’d been too tired and too despondent to take much notice of her surroundings.
They’d climbed a fair distance already, she noticed. Picklewick lay in the bottom of a wide river valley, with mountains on both sides. Not high mountains, like the Alps, but high enough for her aching thighs.
Pretending to study the view (in reality she wanted to give her racing heart an opportunity to slow down), she was delighted to see the village spread out below, nestled in the patchwork of fields, meadows and patches of woodland. She tried to make out her house, but because of the angle it was impossible; however, she could see the square turret of the Norman church.
Breathing deeply, the crisp clean air filling her lungs, she let the peace wash over her. All she could hear was her own heartbeat, the call of a bird overhead, and the wind winnowing through the grass.
Then Bertie tugged on her arm, keen to get going, spoiling the moment, so she let him pull her up the slope.
‘We won’t go all the way to the top,’ Jakob said. ‘I don’t want Trixie, or Bertie for that matter, to think we’re taking them back to The Forever Home.’
‘They won’t think that, will they?’
‘They might. Dogs have an acute sense of smell.’
Gretta sniffed. ‘All I can smell is a stinky farmyard.’
‘That’ll be the horses at the stables,’ he laughed. ‘You’re not much of an outdoorsy person, are you?’
‘Not much. I’m assuming you are?’
He shrugged. ‘I have to be. Dogs need exercise, and I look after a lot of dogs.’
‘Not all by yourself, surely?’
‘We have some staff, but not nearly enough, so we rely heavily on volunteers. Since you’re kind of fostering Bertie, I suppose you could be called a volunteer.’
Gretta rather liked the sound of that; it seemed a worthwhile thing to do, and now that Zaza and Bertie had reached a truce, Gretta didn’t feel as stressed. She wouldn’t want to do it forever, though. A few days was enough.
‘How long should I give it?’ she asked abruptly.
‘At least seven days. Bertie can’t be re-homed until then.’
‘It’s been four already.’
‘Would anyone in the village know whether Mr Butler had any family?’
‘When you saw me the other day, I’d just asked at the post office, but they weren’t sure. He used to keep himself to himself, apparently. His wife died several years ago, and they didn’t have any children.’
‘No wonder you looked frazzled.’
‘I was a bit. I’d only just found out that he’d died. And Bertie had been making an awful racket. He’s made it clear he doesn’t like being left on his own.’
‘We’ll have to do something about that,’ Jakob said.
‘Like what?’
‘You start off small, then build up to longer and longer periods of time.’ Jakob must have seen her doubtful expression because he continued, ‘I can help with that, if you like?’
‘Yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘Nothing is too much trouble when it comes to an animal’s welfare,’ he replied.
They’d arrived at the stables but didn’t linger, the path taking them past a row of three pretty holiday cottages, then up a narrow track and onto Muddypuddle Lane. Gretta recognised it from her journey the other day. There was a farm further up, if she remembered correctly.
‘We’ll take this track here,’ Jakob said when they reached a gate leading to the path onto the hillside. ‘Unless you’ve had enough?’
‘I can manage a bit further,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t want to be out too long, as I’ve got work to do.’
‘Fair enough. Another half an hour, then we’ll turn back. It’ll be easier going downhill.’
Thank heaven for that! Nevertheless, she was glad she’d come. Jakob, despite his sometimes surly manner, was actually quite a nice guy.
But the best bit about being in his company was that he didn’t make any demands on her. Even so, it didn’t matter whether or not she thought he was nice, or whether or not she found him attractive, because she wasn’t going to allow him, or any other man, into her life. Once bitten, twice shy. And Gretta hadn’t just been bitten, she’d had her heart torn out.