CHAPTER TEN
‘Can you hear that?’ Gretta demanded, holding her phone up.
Aaawooohooo… Bertie yodelled.
Jakob was laughing.
‘It’s not funny,’ she told him crossly. If she was going to keep Bertie, she needed to get this sorted. And she definitely was going to keep him. Whoever had been in Mr Butler’s house the other day hadn’t stepped forward to claim him, so…
‘He’s got a good set of lungs on him,’ Jakob said.
‘I’m only in the hall,’ she protested. ‘I haven’t even left the house yet.’
‘How long has he been in his crate?’
Gretta did a quick calculation. ‘One minute and six seconds.’
‘It’s a start.’
‘Not a very good one.’
‘You might want to go back to the kitchen and let him know you haven’t left the country,’ he suggested.
As soon as she opened the kitchen door, the noise abruptly ceased and Bertie glared at her accusingly.
‘He’s giving me a look,’ she told Jakob. ‘I feel dreadful.’
‘Let him out and I guarantee he’ll be all over you.’
Gretta unlatched the crate and Bertie bounded out, leaping up at her and almost sending her flying. He was uttering little whimpers of relief.
‘How long did you say this would take?’ she asked.
‘How long is a piece of string?’
‘Great. I’ll never be able to leave the house without him.’
Jakob was laughing again. ‘You’re being rather dramatic.’
‘You heard him,’ she argued.
‘How did you get him in there?’
‘I didn’t. He went in by himself when I wasn’t looking.’ She was quite aggrieved by that. All her tempting and cajoling had been in vain. He’d entered the crate in his own sweet time, and not before.
‘And then what did you do?’ Jakob asked.
‘I shut him in and went outside. Except, I didn’t get as far as outside . I only got to the hall before he started howling.’
‘You’ve missed a couple of steps and gone too fast,’ Jakob said.
‘What should I have done?’
‘Let him get used to going in and out of the crate freely for a day or so.’
‘Oh, heck. He’s going to think it’s a prison, isn’t he? He’s not going to go anywhere near it again.’
‘Shall I bring Trixie over? She’s happy in a crate. It’s her safe place. If he sees another dog using it, he mightn’t be so worried.’
‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’ Gretta realised that once again she was calling on Jakob for help and he probably had better things to do than come running whenever she was in a pickle.
‘You’re not being a nuisance. I’ll be with you in half an hour.’
When he arrived, Bertie was delighted to see that he had Trixie with him, and he bounced around her, wagging his backside, but not before he’d given Jakob an equally enthusiastic welcome.
Gretta said, ‘Thanks, I really appreciate this. It’s getting to be a habit, you popping in on your way to or from work.’
‘It’s my day off today. I was at home.’
Ah, that explains why he had Trixie with him. Gretta felt even worse now. ‘I wish you’d told me. It could have waited until tomorrow, or the next day.’
‘I wanted to come,’ he replied, and an unexpectedly warm glow suffused her cheeks – until he added, ‘Trixie could use some more socialising. She needs more exposure to new people and different situations.’
Gretta might have known…
‘Do all dogs like you?’ she asked as Bertie continued to make a fuss of him.
‘Not all, no. Most, though.’
His attention was on the dogs. Gretta’s was on him .
He filled her sitting room with his calm presence. Despite his size (or maybe because of it) she felt safe with him around. Which was an odd way to feel after what she’d been through with a man of far less impressive stature than Jakob; she would have expected to be wary of him. But she wasn’t.
Was that because Bertie and the distressingly timid Trixie both adored him? Animals had sharper instincts than humans, didn’t they? Or was that an old wives’ tale?
Trixie kept close to Jakob, Gretta noticed, after the dog had given her a cautious sniff, but she didn’t push it. According to Jakob, she’d probably been abused or neglected, or both, and was distrustful of people.
‘It might be an idea to move the crate into the sitting room,’ Jakob suggested.
Gretta had transferred it to the kitchen, because that’s where she assumed dogs should be kept when their owners weren’t around. She also thought that’s where they should sleep at night. But Bertie had had other ideas, and although she’d managed to persuade him not to jump up on her bed and sleep with his head on her pillow, he’d still insisted on sleeping in her bedroom. So she’d made a kind of cosy nest for him by the side of her dressing table, which Zaza was far happier about. Her cat hadn’t been too keen on sharing Gretta’s bed with the dog, either.
‘Why the sitting room?’ Gretta wanted to know.
‘Because it’s a place for chilling out and relaxing, and that’s what you want him to do in his crate.’
It made sense, so she found a space for it where it wasn’t in the way.
‘Do you have an old throw or a blanket to drape over it?’ he asked, explaining that covering it over would give it a more den-like vibe. ‘He needs to know that this is his safe place, that he won’t be disturbed.’ He put a few of Bertie’s toys in it while she dug out a throw. ‘There, that should do it.’
‘Now what?’
‘I’m going to persuade Trixie to get in it and hopefully Bertie will follow.’ Jakob produced a plastic tub from his pocket. ‘Chicken,’ he announced.
Trixie’s ears pricked up and Bertie’s nose twitched. Even Zaza, who’d been keeping a reserved distance on the back of the sofa, seemed to sense there were goodies on offer.
Jakob opened it with a flourish, took out a piece and pretended to eat, murmuring ‘Yum, yum,’ as he did so.
Gretta pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.
‘If they think it’s yours, they’ll want it even more,’ he explained, giving a bit to Trixie. Bertie was crestfallen but perked up when Jakob gave him a piece, too.
‘Can you hold him for a minute?’ he asked.
Gretta sat on the floor and wrapped her arms around Bertie’s chunky little body, and he licked her cheek, his breath chickeny. ‘Ew, stop that!’ she cried, rubbing her face against her arm.
‘He loves you,’ Jakob chuckled. ‘Doggy kisses are the best.’
Gretta had no idea why, but her eyes immediately strayed to Jakob’s mouth and she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him . Shocked, she hastily dropped her gaze. It landed on his large hands, and an image of them on her body made her gasp.
Nuh-uh, she wasn’t going to go there. She didn’t need another man in her life. Ever.
Thankfully Jakob’s attention was on Trixie and not her, so he hadn’t noticed her sudden discomfort.
Gretta tried to concentrate on holding Bertie still, as Jakob threw a morsel of chicken into the back of the crate. Trixie looked from Jakob to the crate, then back again.
‘It’s okay,’ he assured her. ‘You can go in.’ To Gretta, he said, ‘She’s been in this crate before, so it should still have her scent.’
Nervously, and with a false start or two, Trixie crept inside.
Bertie wriggled furiously, indignant that she was getting another piece of chicken and he wasn’t. Trixie emerged, licking her lips.
‘You can let him go,’ Jakob instructed, and when Gretta released him Bertie darted up to Trixie and sniffed. Then he gave Jakob a reproachful look.
‘Do you want some? Is Trixie getting all the treats? If you want more chicken you’re going to have to go get it,’ Jakob told him, tossing a piece into the back of the crate.
Bertie didn’t hesitate; he shot inside and gobbled it down. He was soon back out again though, obviously not keen to linger.
Gretta leant back against the sofa watching Jakob. Her eyes lingered on his face, his kind eyes, the curve of his nose, while he repeated the process a few more times until he eventually called time.
‘The crate may stop him from tearing my door to shreds,’ Gretta said, ‘but how will it stop him howling?’
‘It won’t. That’s a separate issue. I’ll show you now, if you like?’
She nodded, eager to do anything to curb Bertie’s wailing, and with a bit of encouragement, Jakob persuaded both dogs to enter the crate, then closed the door. Bertie immediately started to whine and scrabble.
Gretta shot Jakob an anxious look, then told herself that she had to trust him to know what he was doing.
Trust… It was a concept she hadn’t been familiar with for a long time.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘Put the kettle on and we’ll have a cup of tea.’
Frowning, she went into the kitchen and made the drinks. When she returned, Jakob was sitting on the sofa and the dogs were curled up together in the crate.
Taking a mug from her with a smile, he said, ‘They seem nice and settled, so we’ll drink this then we’ll go outside for a minute.’
As she sat down to drink hers, it struck Gretta how normal this was. There was no hidden agenda (well, there was , but it was aimed at Bertie, not her). There was no side to Jakob. He didn’t play mind games or try to manipulate and control. She realised she was beginning to think of him as a friend, and she hadn’t had one of those in a long time. But was this friendship based solely on dogs?
Of course it was, she told herself. The only thing they had in common was concern for Bertie.
To make conversation and avoid an awkward silence (awkward for her, that is, because Jakob seemed perfectly happy with not talking), she said, ‘I took Bertie for a walk to the farm earlier. Met Dulcie, Maisie’s sister. Just how many of them are there?’
‘Four, I believe; five if you count their mother. She lives in the cottage halfway up Muddypuddle Lane. The three sisters live in Picklewick and there’s a brother who lives in New Zealand.’
As they chatted for a white about The Forever Home and the farm, Zaza climbed onto Jakob’s lap and lay there purring. With the two dogs asleep, it was quite a peaceful domestic scene, and Gretta found herself relaxing more than she thought possible. Jakob was an easy man to have around.
She would have been happy to sit for a while longer, but he gently placed the cat on a cushion and got up. Gretta stared up at him.
‘Let’s go into the hall for a minute,’ he said. ‘No fuss, just stand up and walk quietly out of the room.’
Rising, Gretta shot Bertie a quick look. His ears were pricked and he was watching her, but Trixie hadn’t reacted, so he didn’t either. It was a start.
It was also a false sense of security, because the second Gretta stepped out of the room, he whined. Jakob suggested she went back in and comforted him, which she did with alacrity, hating to hear Bertie upset. Trixie was also looking worried, so Jakob scooped her into his arms and cuddled her.
‘Okay,’ Jakob said, putting the terrier down. ‘He’s going to need more desensitisation. What I suggest is that you wait until he’s settled and preferably tired, then you keep getting up and walking about. Get him used to you moving around, and he’ll gradually understand that it’s not necessary for him to follow you every time. Go to the door, but don’t leave the room, then go back to your chair, and once he’s happy with that and doesn’t react—’ Jakob stopped.
‘What?’
‘That’s enough to be going on with. You’ve both made loads of progress today. I’ll pop by again in a day or so. Bye, Bertie.’ He strode into the hall, Trixie at his heels, and opened the front door.
Gretta and Bertie followed. ‘Thanks. You don’t know how much I appreciate this. I’m sure Bertie does too…’
She stopped talking as movement on the other side of the street caught her attention.
Her eyes widened and her heart sank like a stone in a pond. It was someone she knew only too well.
Landon!
She inhaled sharply, and might have made some kind of noise, because Jakob turned to follow her gaze.
Gretta froze. She couldn’t move. Her eyes were glued to the man walking along the opposite side of the street. How had he—? Why was he—?
Oh, God, it wasn’t him , she realised suddenly, sagging against the door frame. She’d been so convinced, and shock had rendered her immobile.
Then relief made her burst into tears.
Jakob glared at the man, wondering what he’d done to Gretta to cause such a reaction. But despite his urge to go rushing after the bloke and confront him, it was more important he took care of Gretta.
As he ushered her back inside, Jakob made sure the guy was walking away, then he closed the door firmly and accompanied her into the sitting room. Even as he wondered whether he was doing the right thing, he knew he couldn’t leave her like this.
He could see her shoulders shaking and he stepped forward, his hand outstretched, before he dropped it to his side; he wasn’t a touchy-feely person, unless it was an animal. ‘Gretta? Are you okay?’
She had her back to him, and he wished he could see her face as she said, ‘I’m fine.’
‘Who was he?’
‘No one.’ Bertie was sitting at Gretta’s feet, his little face worried. He kept tapping her leg with his nose, but she ignored him.
‘If he’s no one, why are you crying?’
She took a deep breath and sniffed before she turned to face him, dabbing at the skin under her eyes with the pads of her fingers. ‘I thought he was someone else,’ she said shakily, ‘but I was wrong.’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘No.’
‘Danger?’
‘No.’ She blinked furiously. ‘I need a drink.’
‘Would you like me to make some tea?’
‘An alcoholic drink. I’ve got a bottle of wine around here somewhere.’ She went into the kitchen and Bertie trotted after her, then stopped, looked back at Jakob and whined again.
Jakob took the hint. ‘I’m not leaving until I know you’re alright,’ he called.
She reappeared with two glasses and a bottle of red. ‘In that case, you can help me drink this.’
‘I’m driving.’
Gretta seemed to fold in on herself. ‘Oh, yes, of course.’
He relented. ‘I’ll just have the one, if that’s okay?’
‘Thanks. I’m not usually this pathetic. It was just my…family…they don’t know. I didn’t tell them.’ She unscrewed the top and poured the wine.
Jakob winced as it glugged into the glasses; Gretta wasn’t stingy with her measures. He’d better take care to drink only half of that.
‘I’m not making sense, am I?’ she said.
‘Not much.’
After taking a gulp of the ruby liquid, she scooped Bertie up and gave him a cuddle. The dog looked relieved, and when she put him down again, he trotted off in search of Trixie, who had retreated to the crate, the upset making her anxious.
Gretta sat down and Jakob took the armchair next to her. ‘I thought the man outside was my ex,’ she said.
‘Husband?’
She shook her head. ‘We weren’t married, thank goodness.’
Jakob could guess what was coming, and his blood began to boil. The little things he’d noticed, such as her careful looks up and down the street, and the way she made sure to lock her front door…She was scared .
But what she told him next wasn’t what he’d expected.
‘Landon wasn’t violent, if that’s what you’re thinking. He never laid a finger on me. But he hurt me, all the same. He was incredibly controlling, but before you say anything, he wasn’t like that when we first met. It was gradual, insidious, and by the time alarm bells were ringing, he’d isolated me from my family and my friends. I didn’t even go out to work because he didn’t like it. I worked from home.’
‘Your family…?’ His question was hesitant. He didn’t want to pry.
‘I’ve got two sisters. I’m the middle one. Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘A brother. He’s five years older than me.’
‘Then you probably won’t understand.’
‘Try me.’
‘There’s something called middle child syndrome, characterised by the child feeling ignored, overlooked, not as important as the first-born or the baby of the family. They tend to have a sense of not belonging, yet they have a drive to prove themselves. In other words, they’re screwed up. That’s me, in a nutshell.’ She swirled the wine around in her glass, but didn’t drink any. ‘Which is why I haven’t told my parents or my sisters what Landon did, how he treated me.’
‘Wouldn’t they want to know?’
‘I’m not sure they’d be all that interested, if I’m honest.’
Jakob wasn’t into uttering platitudes such as ‘I’m sure they would be’ and as a result he didn’t know how best to comfort her, or even whether she’d want him to. If a dog was in distress, he knew what to do: but with a human, not so much.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You didn’t need to hear all that.’ She stared at her drink. ‘I don’t know why I told you.’
Neither did Jakob, but he was glad she had. ‘Don’t be sorry. I’d hate to think of you upset and on your own.’
A small smile spread across Gretta’s face and she pointed to Bertie, who was watching her with loving eyes.
She said, ‘I’ve just come to realise that I’m not on my own, not when I have Bertie. Bless him, he was so concerned.’
‘Dogs can be very sensitive to their owner’s feelings.’
The smile grew. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then said, ‘I want to keep him.’
Jakob was overjoyed. ‘I was hoping you might. He clearly adores you. Now that’s a cause for celebration.’ He raised his glass and took a teeny mouthful.
He noticed that she only sipped at hers, and didn’t gulp it as he feared. She seemed calmer, as though the act of telling him, of sharing what had happened to her, had released some of the tension.
Would it be okay to leave her now? He really did have to get back.
‘Are you going to be alright if I go?’ he asked, although he was beginning to realise that he’d be quite happy to stay for as long as she would allow him to. If it wasn’t for Stan and Ripley…
‘I’m fine. It was the shock.’
‘Are you scared of him?’
She shook her head firmly. ‘No. As I said, he was never violent. I moved to Picklewick so I wouldn’t risk bumping into him. The memories are bad enough, without having to see him in the flesh.’
She got to her feet, and he took it as his cue to leave, placing his barely touched glass of wine on the side table.
‘You’ve got my number if you need me,’ he said, ‘and I don’t mean just for problems with Bertie. You can ring me anytime, okay?’
‘Okay.’ She gave him a watery smile. ‘Thanks for everything.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Strolling ahead of her to the door, he stopped suddenly and turned around, remembering Trixie, and as he did so Gretta walked straight into him.
Reflexively his arms went around her to steady her, and he wasn’t sure how it happened or who made the first move, but suddenly his lips met hers and they were kissing.
Jakob closed his eyes as he explored her mouth. Her arms wound around his neck and a rush of desire caught him unawares, jabbing him in the stomach, making him groan.
The noise brought him to his senses.
What was he doing?
His eyes snapped open and he pulled away at the same time as she did, and he stared at her in dismay.
Gretta’s expression was one of horror. She was equally aghast.
And Bertie’s worried whimper said it all.