Chapter Thirty-Five
Thirty-Five
Panic
A figure is peering into what looks to be either a foxhole or perhaps a badger sett: obviously some nature enthusiast getting their rocks off.
As I get closer, I see that I’m wrong.
It’s the man from the house.
He’s no longer wearing the tissue nostril plugs, thank heavens; he is, however, still wearing his green beanie, along with jogging bottoms, a matching zoodie – unzipped all the way down – and still no T-shirt.
When he sees me, he turns and drops to his knees.
‘Ted!’ he shouts in evident joy, as Ted yanks the leash so hard that it slips out of my hand and slithers on the ground behind him like a red snake as he runs.
Ted jumps up on his hindlegs and begins licking the man’s face and neck, who consents to it for a few seconds and then shudders, as if a spasm of ticklishness has got the better of him.
He stands up, and I can’t seem to stop looking at the line of hair that leads down to his waistband. Why are all the men on this island so gorgeous? Even Halloon has old Hollywood movie star looks. It’s been a while since I had sex, but it’s as if my whole body is flooded with teenage girl hormones and I can’t seem to think of anything else.
‘Why do you have Ted?’ he wails at me, as Ted returns to his place at my side and I pick up the end of his leash again.
‘I took him for a walk,’ I say. ‘You asked me to go to the shop for supplies, so I took Ted with me.’
‘Ted doesn’t even know you.’
This is frankly rude. Ted and I might be new friends, but we have established a bond. We trust each other. We’ve had a nice time together on the beach.
‘I’d have left you a note, but I couldn’t find a pen or paper,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’
‘You almost gave me a heart attack.’
‘I didn’t even think you’d notice. You were snoring quite loudly.’
Snoring so loudly that it sounded as if a low-flying fighter plane was passing directly overhead.
‘I woke up and thought Ted had wandered off and gone over the cliff, or got lost in a badger den.’
‘A badger sett,’ I correct him, before I can stop myself.
‘Whatever. God, you can’t just take an animal and not tell someone. It’s like taking someone’s kid. It’s basically abduction.’
I scoff at this. ‘No, it isn’t.’
‘Hang on,’ he says, readying himself for a violent sneeze. He takes a tissue from the pockets of those low-slung joggers and blows his nose.
‘You don’t understand,’ he says, mopping up residual snot. ‘Ted is not one of those needy dogs who suffers from separation anxiety. He’s very independent. If he wants to take a stroll and the door is open, he’ll just go. He won’t wait for a human companion. He’s very self-reliant.’
I also had that impression, but it seems like a ridiculous way to talk about an animal that’s small enough to be zipped into a medium-sized handbag.
‘All’s well that ends well,’ I say, unable not to use a patronising tone. ‘Your dog is home, safe and sound.’
‘What?’ he says, irritably. ‘Ted’s not my dog. He comes with the house. You’re looking after him.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ I say, feeling my eyes widen. ‘I can’t look after a dog.’
Nemo would be seriously displeased.
‘Then you shouldn’t have taken the job because Ted is part of the gig.’
No dog was mentioned in the advert or the emails I received. Of that much, I am absolutely certain.
‘Nobody told me about a dog.’
‘It was sort of a last-minute thing. He was supposed to be going on a European tour with the owners, but they had to leave him behind.’
‘Why, did he lose his pet passport?’ I enquire.
He gives me a sharp look, but I ignore it. Who would abandon an Ewok prince like Ted, just to go on a European tour? But then who would have thought Max would ever abandon Nemo? He said he loved him, and he kicked him to the Battersea kerb so that he could go panning for gold with a button-collecting supermodel.
‘No, Ted did not lose his pet passport. His owners found out, just before they were due to leave, that Ted has developed quite a significant heart murmur.’
‘Oh.’
‘The vet didn’t think a lot of road travel and stressful new environments would be good for him. I think Frank and Steve were hoping that since you’re going to be here anyway, looking after their other animals, you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Ted, too.’
Because they didn’t know I was bringing a cat…
I should’ve told them about Nemo, but I didn’t want to risk them pulling the job offer. I assumed that if I presented Nemo as a fait accompli, it would all just somehow work out in the end.
I look down at Ted and feel a pang. Poor little thing.
‘How bad is the heart murmur?’
‘Significant. He needs to be kept as calm as possible. No strenuous exercise, no unnecessary excitement and ideally no barking.’
He mops sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
‘You’re sweating.’
‘Fever,’ he says.
‘Perhaps you should take off your hat, then.’
He stares at me. He’s forgotten he’s wearing one.
‘It’s on your head,’ I say, helpfully pointing to his head.
He pulls off the green beanie and I see a shock of hair. It’s slate grey at the crown and completely white at the temples, like some sort of weird ombre. And yet his face is young. He may even be a couple of years younger than me. He has high cheekbones, light eyes and no fine lines to speak of.
He’s actually quite beautiful, just in a very unusual way. Has he maybe dyed his hair that colour? Some sort of statement on society’s preoccupation with youth? Perhaps he bleaches out the natural pigment and goes in with a heavy-duty toner. Something to make him stand out from other guys his age. If so, it’s working.
He appears to read my mind because he clears his throat and says, ‘It’s natural. I started going grey at eleven.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yep,’ he says, sighing. ‘Just what every kid wants in their first year of high school.’
‘That’s… unfortunate. Were the other kids awful about it?’
‘There was a lot of teasing and I had to lean into a nickname I hated.’
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to spill it.
‘Cally Grey Pubes. I don’t think I even had any then, ironically. Pubes, I mean.’
‘That’s rough,’ I say. ‘Your name is… Cally?’
‘No, but Cally stuck.’
I wait for him to tell me his actual name. He doesn’t.
‘Did you ever think of dyeing it?’
‘Constantly, but I didn’t trust myself not to mess it up. My dad tried on his once and it went jet black. Forever after, even when the dye had grown out, his colleagues called him Wiggy.’
‘Premature greying is usually a family trait,’ I point out, as if he wouldn’t know that, as if he wouldn’t be the expert on premature greying. ‘Do you have siblings?’
He blinks, as if shocked I’m asking him about his family.
‘My sister got to seventeen before her hair started to turn. She adds blue and pink streaks when she’s bored. She loves it.’
He gets quiet.
‘You don’t love yours?’
‘It’s weird to be this grey at twenty-eight.’
Okay, so he’s a couple of years older than me. Clearly, he has a great skincare routine.
‘Is that why you’re wearing the hat?’
‘No, the hat is because I’ve been petsitting a flea-ridden beach house.’
‘When you say flea-ridden…’
He bites his lip.
‘It’s full of fleas,’ he says. ‘Ted must have picked them up. I’ve been itching like mad.’
I immediately stop stroking Ted.
‘This gets better and better.’
As well as dealing with a dog I didn’t bargain for, and a hazardous dog-cat introduction that could result in the death or maiming of either, I’ll have fleas sucking my blood when I sleep.
‘It’s not too bad,’ he says. ‘Ted already had spot-on treatment in the cupboard, which the owners told me to use when I messaged them about the problem, so as soon as the fleas jump on Ted and start biting him, they die off. Most of them in the bed were dead.’
‘There are fleas in the bed?’
‘That’s the beauty of white sheets: you can clearly see all the parasites. Has your cat been treated?’
‘Yes,’ I say, silently thanking my mum for her foresight on this matter. ‘And I made sure I had a good supply to bring with me.’
‘Great. So, until you buy flea spray for the carpets, sofas and blinds, the animals will wander around, attract all the fleas, and kill them off with their toxic blood.’
‘They’ll take one for the team,’ I say, thinking of Nemo’s innocent little face. ‘So, how come you’re the interim petsitter? How did you get roped in?’
‘It’s a long story,’ he says, and then pulls a bandanna out of his pocket and slides it over the lower part of his face.
‘I should be wearing my mask,’ he says. ‘Don’t want to infect you, even if it isn’t Covid.’
I freeze.
How did I not see it before?