CHAPTER TWELVE
Gretta hadn’t left the house for two days. She’d had no reason to. There was no Bertie to walk, and she didn’t need any groceries.
She’d assumed it would be easy to slip back into her old routine, that her week of looking after a dog would quickly become a distant memory, a blip in her otherwise sedate and serene life. But it hadn’t worked like that. She missed him. The house that had once seemed so cosy, now felt cold. Her bed, without Bertie in it, was too big, too quiet, too fragrant . No chunky body snuggling into her, no snuffly snoring, no doggy whiffs. How daft was it to miss his smell, especially since she hadn’t been too keen on waking up with a dog’s nose on her pillow?
Even Zaza seemed to feel his absence. The day Mr Butler’s niece had claimed him, the cat had paced from room to room like an old lady who couldn’t remember where she’d left her glasses. And she’d been extra clingy and loving, too. Gretta felt judged, as though Zaza was scared that if she misbehaved, she might be handed over to a stranger on the doorstep.
For the hundredth (thousandth?) time, Gretta wondered how he was doing. Was he missing her? Had he settled in? Was Erica Hilliard making him sleep in the kitchen? Was she taking him on regular walks?
Each time one of those thoughts flitted through her head, Gretta would berate herself for being silly. Erica would be looking after him fine, and it probably would take him a few days to settle in. The poor little mite had been pushed from pillar to post recently, so he’d need time to realise that Erica was his new owner.
Gretta would need time too, and moping around the house wasn’t helping. She should pop to the shops to pick up some artisan bread from the bakery and buy something nice for dinner. At least she didn’t have to worry about Bertie howling the house down while she was out.
Telling herself that there surely must be more than one upside to not having Bertie in her life, she eased her feet into her trainers and grabbed a jacket. Then she had to bite her lip when she opened her mouth to call Bertie to her, momentarily forgetting that he was no longer there.
Maybe Jakob would have heard something? Would he have phoned or messaged Erica Hilliard to check up on the dog?
Thinking of Jakob gave her just as much of a pang as thinking of Bertie, and once again she cursed her stupidity. Kissing that man had been a big mistake. Thinking of him as being more than someone who worked at the animal sanctuary had been an even bigger one. She’d allowed him to slip under her defences, much like Bertie had slipped under the fence and escaped into Mr Butler’s garden.
And now she was forced to recognise that she’d developed feelings for him.
So maybe, in a way, it was good that Bertie was no longer in her care? Without the dog, she’d have no reason to see or speak to Jakob.
But in the middle of the night, she could still feel his arms around her, his lips on hers. That kiss, no matter how fleeting it had been, had left a lasting impression on her body, just as the man himself had left a lasting impression on her mind.
Thank goodness it had only been a kiss, she thought, as she hurried along the street towards the shops, because the last thing she wanted was Jakob to have made a lasting impression on her heart .
The delicious aroma of warm, fresh bread filled her nose when she entered the bakers, and her mouth watered. Spoilt for choice and tempted by the goodies on display, she bought more than she needed, telling herself that she deserved a treat; and she was rather looking forward to soft cheese and tomato on sourdough, with a cream cake afterwards – until she glanced at the notices displayed in the post office’s window and saw one announcing Mr Butler’s funeral.
Oh, Bertie, she thought sadly, as a sudden longing for him swept through her.
She’d go, she decided. Pay her respects. And if the opportunity arose, she could ask after Bertie, make sure he was alright.
Now that her appetite had deserted her, Gretta decided against doing any more shopping, so she went home. Only to be struck with longing again once more as she realised how quiet her house was. Not even Zaza came to greet her: she was out, doing whatever feline things cats got up to when allowed to roam free.
Gretta put her shopping away, which took all of fifteen seconds, then climbed the stairs to her office. As always in times of stress or upset, work seemed like a good idea. But when she knocked her mouse and sent it tumbling to the floor, Gretta forgot about work as she scrabbled under the desk to retrieve it, and came face to face with one of Bertie’s little stuffed animals.
Much to her dismay, her eyes filled with tears and she slumped against the side of the desk, holding the toy to her chest.
For the next half an hour she bawled her eyes out, crying both for Bertie and for herself – because she’d only just begun to come back to life, to start feeling again, loving again, only to have it snatched from her, plunging her back into the walled-up twilight world she’d been living in.
Gretta, it seemed, wasn’t destined to live any other kind of life.
How was she? Jakob’s fingers crept to the pocket of his jeans, as they’d done so many times during these past three days, and each time he’d changed his mind about calling her.
Gretta was fine. She’d only had the dog for just over a week, and the first few days hadn’t counted because she’d hated every minute.
Jakob had no doubt that once the initial shock of handing Bertie over to his rightful owner had eased, Gretta’s life would have gone back to the way it had been before a little French bulldog had turned it upside down. When she’d had a chance to think about it, she’d probably be glad of the lucky escape she’d had. No more poop picking, no more howling, no more muddy paw prints in her pristine house. Gretta was most definitely more suited to cat ownership than dog. And Zaza was probably glad to see the back of Bertie, as well. Both Gretta and the cat could return to their ordered lives without any more doggy disruption.
But was that strictly true? Jakob had seen her face when she’d given him up. She’d been distraught. So maybe she wasn’t okay…?
He reached for his phone again, then stopped. Face-to-face would be better. He’d be able to see how she was doing for himself. It was so easy to lie over the phone or by message: ‘I’m going to the gym after work’, for instance…It was a lie he knew well, having been the perfect excuse for Clare to come home recently showered, and she’d certainly had a workout all right. Just not the kind Jakob had thought she’d been having. But when he’d confronted her, she hadn’t been able to lie. Her mouth had said one thing, but her eyes had told a different story. The truth .
How was Gretta doing?
Jakob sighed; he couldn’t seem to stop asking himself the question. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind. It was because he felt responsible, he told himself. If it hadn’t been for his blunt honesty when she’d phoned the day after she’d surrendered Bertie to The Forever Home to ask whether he was okay, Gretta wouldn’t have felt guilty enough to take him back. And if she hadn’t taken him back, she wouldn’t have become attached to the pup.
Therefore, this whole situation was Jakob’s fault.
He was to blame for both her upset and Bertie’s.
As tempted as he was to contact Mr Butler’s niece to ask, he knew he mustn’t. Bertie was Erica’s responsibility now: not his, or The Forever Home’s, or Dawn’s, or Gretta’s. He just had to hope that the dog was being loved and cared for.
However, he could check on Gretta , and there was no time like the present since he’d finished his shift. He’d swing by on the way home. It would put his mind at rest and assuage his guilt.
As he drove down Muddypuddle Lane, he knew it wasn’t just guilt he was feeling. It was also shame. He couldn’t help thinking that he’d taken advantage of her the other evening. Although he honestly had no idea which of them had made the first move, he shouldn’t have kissed her. She’d been upset and it had been wrong of him. Even if she hadn’t been, he still shouldn’t have done it. Aside from not being good boyfriend material, he didn’t want a relationship. People let you down. Dogs didn’t. He’d stick with dogs. They might break your heart when it was time for them to go over the rainbow bridge, but the love, loyalty and joy they brought was worth any amount of grief.
If Gretta only felt a fraction of that for Bertie, she’d be hurting right now, and he hated to think of her in pain.
The instant Jakob saw her face, he knew he’d been right to come, even though she’d been quick to cover her sadness.
‘Hi.’ Her tone was wary.
‘I thought I’d…Are you…? I’m sorry I—’
Gretta leapt in before he could say anything further. ‘No need to be. It’s not like I haven’t been kissed before.’
What?! Flustered he spluttered, ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’ He could feel heat stealing into his cheeks and he hoped he wasn’t blushing as much as he suspected he might be. Mortified and embarrassed, he explained, ‘It’s my fault you’re upset over Bertie.’
Her expression was neutral, but from the glowing pink suffusing her skin, he assumed she was equally as embarrassed. She said, ‘How do you work that out? I’m the one who promised to look after him.’
‘I’m the one who persuaded you.’
She stared at him for longer than was comfortable, and he shifted self-consciously from foot to foot.
Then she said, ‘I bought too many cakes this morning. Care to help me eat them?’
He nodded, relieved that the awkwardness had lifted. ‘How’s Zaza?’ he asked, following her into the kitchen.
‘Confused.’
‘How are you? ’
‘I’m okay.’ She had her back to him so he couldn’t see her face, but her shoulders were rigid with tension.
‘Look at me,’ he said gently, and wasn’t surprised to see tears in her eyes. ‘You’re not, are you?’
She bit her lip; her chin wobbled and he thought she was going to burst out crying, but she held it back. ‘I will be. It’s only a dog.’
Jakob gave her a look. She didn’t mean that. Dogs were never only dogs. They were family, and Bertie had been part of hers, however briefly.
Gretta carried a plate of cream cakes into the sitting room and returned to the kitchen to finish making the drinks.
So that’s all it had been, he thought, reflecting on what she’d just said – a kiss. Nothing more. What had he expected? Fireworks? The earth to move for her? At least he could rest easy now, knowing that she wasn’t in the least bothered by it.
He was, though. She’d felt so incredibly good. She’d made him feel so incredibly good – until he’d come to his senses. Clearly, she hadn’t been as affected as him.
‘I’ll get over it,’ she said, and it took Jakob a second to realise that she was referring to Bertie. ‘Mr Butler’s funeral is on Thursday. I’m thinking of going.’
‘Do you want some company?’ he found himself asking, then tried to justify it by saying, ‘I feel I ought to pay my respects because of Bertie.’
‘It would be nice not to go on my own.’ Gretta pulled a face. ‘I miss the little guy. He really made himself at home, didn’t he?’
‘Would you have another dog?’
She shook her head. ‘I doubt it. You get too attached to them, don’t you?’
Jakob smiled sadly. ‘That’s kind of the point. It’s unfortunate that you weren’t able to adopt Bertie. If only Erica Hilliard had turned up a few days later…’
‘I still don’t think I could have kept him; it wouldn’t have been right, morally. Bertie belongs with Mr Butler’s family.’
‘His niece wasn’t even aware he had a dog,’ Jakob pointed out. ‘They couldn’t have been close.’
‘Neither were we. I feel I should have known more about him, since we were neighbours.’ She looked so sad that his heart went out to her.
‘Don’t beat yourself up over it. You had your reasons.’ And if he ever got his hands on that reason, he’d make the man that had caused her such pain sorry he’d been born.
Gretta studied him silently, and Jakob wondered what she was thinking, whether she was regretting telling him about her ex.
‘About that kiss,’ he blurted, cursing even as the words were leaving his lips. ‘I’m not sorry at all.’ Then, without giving her a chance to respond, he got to his feet and strode into the hall and out of the door, saying, ‘See you Thursday.’
Thursday was three days away: plenty of time to reflect on what an idiot he was.