CHAPTER NINE
There’s something very wrong with this scenario , Gretta mused from inside the dog crate, as she gazed out at Bertie. He was panting. Or grinning. She wasn’t sure which. Grinning, probably.
No wonder. He must think her a right wally, especially since she’d given him the treat anyway without him having to climb inside. She’d wriggled into it, to show him there was nothing to fear.
Zaza had stalked off in disgust, and frankly Gretta didn’t blame her. Bertie was making a total fool of her.
Oh, well , she sighed, as she clambered out of it with difficulty, groaning as she straightened up, her back aching and her limbs cramping. She wasn’t surprised he didn’t like the crate: she didn’t, either.
‘We’ll try again later,’ she promised. ‘This isn’t going to go away. You’ll have to get used to it. Now, if you were a good boy,’ she continued in a conversational tone, ‘and didn’t make so much of a fuss when you’re left on your own, you wouldn’t need to be crated in the first place. It’s ridiculous, Bertie; I can’t even have a wee without you following me to the loo. You don’t see Zaza being such a baby. And what am I doing, talking to you like you can understand me?’
Bertie was sitting at her feet, staring up at her, his head tilted to one side, his ears pricked. He really did look as though he understood every word. His eyes gazed deeply into hers, and she wondered what was going on in his furry little head. What was he thinking? How was he feeling?
Gretta was surprised how much she cared. He was rather cute and extremely loving, and when she recalled the exuberant welcome he’d given her when she’d fetched him from Mr Butler’s house after she’d been shopping earlier, her heart melted.
Gretta was just debating whether to do some work for an hour or two before she called it a night, when her phone rang.
It was her older sister.
Gretta hesitated before answering, wondering what Taylor wanted, and it briefly occurred to her to let it go to voicemail, but decided against it. ‘Hi.’
‘What’s going on, Gretta? Why are you avoiding everyone?’ Her sister’s tone was abrupt.
‘I’m not.’ Her reply was defensive. And untruthful.
‘You most definitely are. And don’t say you’re too busy, because I don’t believe you.’
‘I am busy.’ Gretta bit her lip.
‘Doing what?’
‘Working.’ It sounded the weak excuse that it was. She was busy because she wanted to be; because it filled the empty spaces in her life. She could easily make time for her family. But they’d made their indifference towards her clear.
Taylor was only phoning out of a sense of duty. Gretta as the middle child, had always been invisible, unnoticed for the most part, sandwiched as she was between strong, forthright, opinionated Taylor and flighty, oddball, exuberant Sienna.
Looking back, she realised that Landon had taken advantage of that, and it had been all too easy to segregate her from them. It had been gradual and insidious, of course, because that’s the way people like Landon operated.
She’d slowly but surely disappeared from her family’s lives, and they hadn’t noticed. And what was really sad was that Gretta would be happy not to be noticed by anyone ever again. Being noticed led to heartbreak.
A bark made her jump, and she realised Bertie was trying to get her attention.
‘What was that?’ Taylor demanded. ‘Have you got a dog? ’
Bertie barked again. He was in the hall, and Gretta followed him out to see what all the fuss was about.
‘Sort of. Not really. The old guy next door died, and I’m taking care of it for a few days.’
As she was talking, Gretta put her eye to the peephole, but there was no one at the door. With a sigh, she went upstairs. After this phone call, losing herself in work for the rest of the evening would be a good idea.
‘I didn’t think you liked dogs,’ her sister said.
Neither did Gretta – until she’d been landed with Bertie. ‘I’ve got a cat, too.’
‘Wow! I thought you hated cats.’
‘ Landon hated cats,’ she replied shortly. She’d always wanted a cat.
Bertie let out a volley of barks, and she realised he hadn’t come upstairs with her. Then she heard a door slam and abruptly she knew what had set him off. Someone was next door!
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, vaguely hearing Taylor’s cry of, ‘Wait, can you—’ before cutting her off.
However, by the time she made it outside, whoever had been in Mr Butler’s house had gone.
And so had the note.
‘Flippin’ heck, this dog is seriously trying my patience,’ Gretta grumbled as she scoured the garden. She’d only taken her eyes off Bertie for a minute and he’d disappeared.
Ah, there he was, peeping out from around a bush. He slunk towards her, looking dejected.
Hearing someone next door and then having Gretta leave him on his own while she went to investigate (he hadn’t strictly been alone because Zaza had still been in the house, and it had only been for a few minutes), had unsettled him all over again, just when Gretta had got him onto an even keel of sorts.
When she’d returned, he’d paced around the house whining, and every so often he’d go to the door and give it a desultory scratch. So when he’d asked to go out for a wee, she’d let him into the garden, grateful for a brief respite from the dog’s restlessness.
At first, she’d kept a beady eye on him, but she’d began to fume as her thoughts turned to the person who had entered Mr Butler’s house, read her note, and ignored the dog’s plight. And hers , for that matter. Whoever it was had taken it for granted that she’d continue to look after the dog. Or worse – they hadn’t given her a second thought.
Gretta snorted angrily. She should be used to that by now. Her family had been guilty of not giving her a second thought for years. If ever. No wonder she’d—
Gretta shook her head to clear it. Trying to be charitable, she put herself in this unknown relative’s shoes. Maybe they weren’t in a position to relieve her of Bertie. But if that was the case, they should at least have let her know. And now she was back to being cross again.
She wondered what Jakob would say when she told him, and she guessed he would be just as annoyed. Admittedly, it would be more on Bertie’s behalf than hers. For Jakob, animals came first, humans a very poor second.
She got the feeling he didn’t mind her though, and maybe even liked her, despite them getting off on the wrong foot when they’d first met. She’d thought him grumpy, brusque and rather rude. And she guessed he must have thought her clueless or negligent. Both, perhaps.
Even if she said so herself, her dog knowledge had come a long way in a week. And most of that was due to Jakob and his patience with her. He was a fount of knowledge, and incredibly patient when it came to canine welfare. At first glance he appeared to be a big rough bear of a man, but she’d seen firsthand how gentle and kind he could be.
Surprised, Gretta realised that she genuinely liked him. He was the only man she’d allowed into her life since Landon, and she was beginning to regard him as a friend. An attractive friend.
Disconcerted, she gave herself a mental shake. It didn’t matter how attractive she found him, or how nice he was, she wasn’t going there. Never again would she allow a man to get close enough to hurt her. Never again would she trust anyone the way she’d trusted Landon. At least, in the beginning she had trusted him. Later, the only thing she trusted him to do was hurt her. And he’d done a pretty good job of that.
When she’d finally gathered what was left of herself and walked out, she’d vowed she’d never be in that position again. She’d hated being so vulnerable. Anyone would. Which was probably why she’d felt so much sympathy for little Bertie.
Actually…where was Bertie? She couldn’t see him anywhere.
‘Bertie? Bertie? Come here, there’s a good boy. Bertie!’
The dog remained conspicuously absent.
‘ Bertie! ’ she shouted louder; not a cajoling call, but a command.
No response.
He must be hiding. He couldn’t have got out because she’d blocked the hole up, and she began to search the garden, pushing shrubs aside and probing under bushes. Then she saw it. The little sod had dug another hole. He’d got under the fence and was undoubtedly in Mr Butler’s garden.
With a resigned sigh, she went to retrieve him . Again.
Then she phoned Jakob to let him know about the visitor next door.
‘Someone was in Mr Butler’s house earlier,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who, I didn’t see. I was on the phone with my sister and didn’t realise until too late. The note’s gone though, so they might contact the kennels. I thought I’d give you the heads up.’
‘Thanks. I’ll keep an eye out, and I’ll tell Maisie and the others.’
‘It was Bertie who alerted me. He must have thought Mr Butler had come back.’ There was a hitch in her voice as she said it. ‘After I’d gone round to check, I realised he’d escaped again. He’d dug another hole under the fence, and I found him in Mr Butler’s garden sitting on the step. It was so sad. What if they don’t bother collecting him? What if they’re happy for him to be re-homed?’
The answer was obvious, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that.
Gretta had a decision to make.
Taking Bertie out for a walk had become something Gretta quite looked forward to and rather enjoyed. Mind you, the weather recently had been pretty good, so she hadn’t yet been forced to take him out in the rain.
She’d been on pins the following morning, fully expecting a phone call from Jakob to tell her that someone had been in touch with him about Bertie. However, her phone had remained silent, and she’d managed to get some work done.
It was time for a break, though. Bertie had been very good, snoozing by her feet, but he’d become restless in the last ten minutes and she guessed he wanted a change of scenery. A good walk now would earn her a few hours’ peace this afternoon, so she decided to take him on a similar walk to the one she’d taken him with Jakob and his dogs the other day, but maybe not quite as far.
Bertie danced around her legs as she got ready, putting her shoes on and grabbing a lightweight jacket. And he practically bounced with excitement when she put his harness on him and attached the lead. Making sure she had her phone, she set off, striding along the pavement, the dog trotting at her side.
She’d only just made it to the high street when an elderly woman stopped her.
‘Excuse me, but aren’t you the young lady who lives next door to Mr Butler?’
Gretta blinked, wondering what she wanted. ‘Yes…?’ she replied cautiously.
‘I recognised Bertie,’ the woman said, ‘and I heard his neighbour was looking after him. How has he been? Missing him, I bet.’
Bertie wagged his bottom at the lady, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
‘You know me, don’t you, Bertie? I give you bits of biscuit.’ She turned back to Gretta. ‘Mr Butler used to pop into the cafe twice a week for a cuppa, and Bertie was always with him. He never went anywhere without his dog.’ She pinned Gretta with a beady eye. ‘Have you heard when the funeral is?’
‘No, have you?’
The woman shook her head. ‘I was hoping you might, since you’re looking after his dog. I’d like to pay my respects. I’ve been keeping an eye on the newsagent’s window. They sometimes post funeral notices in there. Anyway, I’d better get on. I’ve got an appointment about my bunions. Bye, Bertie, be good for…what’s your name? Gretta, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I’m Ada Manning. Nice to meet you, Gretta.’
‘You too, Mrs Manning.’
‘It’s Miss. Never could be doing with having a bloke around. Too much trouble, if you ask me.’ And with that, she was off, leaving Gretta gazing at her retreating back in amusement.
But Miss Manning had the right idea – men were too much trouble. Most of them. Jakob appeared to be the exception to the rule.
She wondered whether she’d bump into him on the walk. Then a thought gave her pause: was that why she was going in this direction? Previous walks had been around the field behind her house. Short walks, where she’d hardly seen anyone, not even another dog walker.
Another thought occurred to her: did Bertie miss other dogs? Should she walk him in places where he was more likely to meet a doggy friend or two? She recalled how well he’d got on with Jakob’s dogs and the little foster dog, Trixie. Was a lack of canine interaction harming him? He seemed to be quite a sociable little chap, happy to greet everyone.
Whereas she was not. Aside from the occasional online call with clients, and the necessary interaction with staff when she went shopping, Gretta sometimes didn’t speak to anyone for days. Yet, since she’d acquired Bertie, she’d spoken to more people in a week than she’d done in a month. Take yesterday, for instance: she’d had a visit from Jakob, then she’d spoken to him again on the phone after she’d had a call from her sister…
Gretta didn’t want to think about her sister or the rest of her family, but she found she couldn’t banish the intrusive thoughts. They kept slipping into her mind whenever it wasn’t occupied. Like now, for instance. She should try to think about something else.
Jakob: she’d think about Jakob . Or rather, she’d think about the next step he might suggest in trying to crate-train the little menace. Aside from shoving Bertie inside and shutting the door on him, she didn’t know what else to try, and she was damn sure she wasn’t going to risk leaving him alone in the kitchen. He’d wreaked enough havoc the last time, and she’d only been upstairs. Imagine the damage he could cause if she was out of the house?
At least he and Zaza were getting on, she said to herself, as she left the village behind and slipped through the kissing gate at the start of the path leading to the stables and the farm beyond. She’d heard the farm had a shop selling all kinds of fresh produce, so that was her destination. She’d check it out, maybe make a purchase or two, then spend the rest of the day creating a series of promotional social media posts for an author whose book was due to be published in a couple of months. Hopefully, Bertie would be worn out and would sleep until supper time.
The trudge up the hill was steeper than she remembered, and she was puffing and panting by the time she turned into the farmyard. Thinking back to her walk with Jakob the other day, she realised he’d hardly been out of breath at all. It must be all that dog walking he did, keeping him fit. If Gretta got nothing else out of looking after Bertie, at least she’d be a little fitter. The problem with having a sedentary job was that she had to make an effort to exercise, and she’d always had a tendency to take the path of least resistance. But the ‘anything for an easy life’ mentality was what had got her into a mess, because Landon had shamelessly and systematically exploited that. And she’d let him .
‘Hi, can I help you?’ a woman asked, and Gretta realised she’d come to a breathless halt in the middle of the farmyard.
‘I was looking for the farm shop,’ she said, her chest heaving.
‘It’s over there.’ The woman pointed to a doorway with a sign saying ‘Farm Shop’ above it. ‘Have you walked up the lane?’
Gretta nodded, feeling foolish.
‘It’s a bit of a trek, isn’t it?’ The woman gazed at Bertie. ‘There’s a bowl of water by the door if he fancies a drink.’
‘Okay, thanks.’
‘Do you live in the village?’
‘Foxglove Street.’
‘My sister lives there! Nicki Warring. She’s got a little boy, Sammy. Her partner is Gio; he’s a police officer.’
‘You’re not Maisie Fairfax?’ Gretta was confused.
‘That’s my other sister. She owns The Forever Home Boarding Kennels. I’m Dulcie.’
Dulcie looked at her expectantly, so Gretta said, ‘I’m Gretta, and this is Bertie.’ After she’d said it, she felt daft introducing the dog.
Dulcie said, ‘That wouldn’t be Bertie Butler, would it?’
Gretta blinked. ‘It would.’
‘Maisie told me all about him. The poor little soul. Good on you for taking him in.’
Gretta didn’t know what to say to that, so she simply smiled and didn’t say anything.
As though sensing her discomfort, Dulcie said, ‘Sorry, I’m keeping you talking. Just go on in; Bea will help if you’ve got any questions. By the way, this week’s ice cream flavour is dandelion. It’s surprisingly good.’ She laughed, and Gretta guessed that her incredulity must be reflected on her face. Whoever heard of dandelion ice cream!
‘It’s got a honey-like flavour,’ Dulcie was saying. ‘Ask Bea for a taste and see for yourself. Nice to meet you, Gretta. You too, Bertie.’
That was the second random person she’d spoken to today because of Bertie, Gretta mused as she went into the shop.
If this carried on, in a few more weeks she’d have made the acquaintance of everyone in Picklewick.
The thought didn’t fill her with the alarm she assumed it would. Bertie, it seemed, was bringing her out of her shell.
Maybe she was finally beginning to heal.