Chapter six
‘Oh, I so need this walk—maybe more than Atlas. I love my little parlour, but it’s felt more like a prison this week with Georgina not being there.
Thank goodness the last client cancelled.
’ Marcus admired the smart polo shirt Rowan was wearing, it pulled tight over his muscular chest, accentuating the curve of his pecs.
‘It’s a good idea of yours to get him to walk between us. Although you pointed it out, I did notice how Atlas favoured being on the other side of me on the beach.’
‘I knew you had, but I didn’t know whether you’d placed him away from me on purpose. I’m still trying to work out Atlas’s body language. I’ll never be at your level, but I need to read the dogs that come into my parlour. They all have their own personalities and unpredictability’s.’
Marcus could feel Rowan watching him intently. Right now he felt like a thesaurus, and Rowan was trying to read everything he said inside-out, backwards and forwards. He’d never been one to analyse whatever came into his head before he said it, but everything about Rowan was controlled.
‘Hmm, true, but they are not as unpredictable as humans. Even after the best possible training, mistakes can be made.’
Marcus was unsure whether Rowan was referring to animals or humans now. Was he trying to open up about himself or Atlas?
‘I hope this confidence walk through the bay helps bond us. I can see Atlas’s claws have worn away slightly by walking on the pavement, but they definitely need a trim still.’
Rowan followed Marcus’s eyes. ‘I know. It’s frustrating. He always used to let me cut them no problem until...’ Rowan stopped, his head lifting abruptly as he looked into the distance.
Marcus was certain he saw his bottom lip tremor slightly. He was certain it was a reaction to a memory, but he didn’t want to pry. Maybe Rowan would open up if he divulged some of his own past.
It was time to begin the walk. ‘Okay, let’s start by walking past the shops. I can tell you everything I know about the owners, then although boring for you, Atlas will get used to my voice.’
A corner of Rowan’s mouth hitched, and Marcus felt it was a small win, as though he’d peeled away a layer.
They’d met at their usual spot, just metres from where Ben set up his fish cart, but he was long gone. Ben never worked much past midday.
Marcus pointed over to the lifeboat hut. ‘You met Jack and Ned at the pub meeting. Ned is a retired lifeboat rescuer. He does a lot for the community now, and recently got engaged to Morgan.’
‘Morgan?’
‘Yes, she’s Pippa and Nile’s aunt, and sister-in-law to Brett, Pippa and Nile’s father. Brett is a widower. I never got to meet his wife, she passed away a few years ago. They owned and run The Cheese Wedge and Pickles for years, as well as the hotel next to it. But now, Oliver and Pippa own it.’
Rowan nodded. ‘Keeping the business in the family... That’s nice for a tight-knit community like this.’
A wide smile spread across Marcus’s face. He was pleased Rowan saw how close people who lived in the bay were. ‘Yes, yes it is.’
‘Jack is the head crew member and still very much in service.’
Was it Marcus’s imagination, or had Rowan stiffened when he’d said service?
They continued past the harbour, past The Cheese Wedge and Pickles.
Laughter and clinking glasses could be heard through the open windows.
Today the pub was open all day. Something that smelled very similar to beef ale hot pot wafted through the window too, and Marcus’s stomach reacted to it loudly.
He chuckled, slightly embarrassed.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve not eaten again.’
Rowan’s concern was heartfelt, and Marcus was taken aback. ‘Actually, I haven’t stopped eating today. I made sure I took plenty of food to work with me. But that smell would make any full-bellied man want more.’
Rowan actually huffed a small laugh. Marcus felt like doing cartwheels. ‘That’s a recommendation I’ll have to check out at some point.’
Marcus grinned. ‘You should. Declan is the chef. He’s actually the one who cooks the breakfasts in Tammy’s Tearoom as well.
You might have seen them together, they are actually an item.
And while we are on the subject of them, a side note; Ben is Tammy’s great uncle and Ned is Declan’s long-lost father.
’ Rowan’s brow lifted. ‘But that’s a story for another time. ’
Marcus looked down at Atlas. His ears were pricked up high, his head twitching from side to side taking in everything as they walked.
‘So much depth and connection.’ Rowan’s comment was quiet. Marcus thought it not so much a statement, but more of an observation.
The grocery store is under refurbishment at the moment, as the post office is being moved inside. There’s going to have new owners and a new name... The Bay Post and Parcel, I think it's going to be called, according to the oracle...’
‘Mrs Calloway,’ they both chorused simultaneously.
Marcus laughed freely. Rowan managed a small smile.
Marcus’s heart was booming in celebration at yet another small victory. If only he could make progress with Atlas today as well.
Mrs Flownder was picking up vases of flowers from outside the florist shop as they passed, ready to take them in for closing time. She stopped what she was doing to wave. ‘Good evening, Marcus. How did Georgina like the bouquet?’
‘Evening, Mrs Flownder. She loved it. Thank you.’
‘Will you be calling in to buy flowers for anyone else? I can deliver discreetly you know. Hattie or Suzie wouldn’t have to know the flowers came from you.’
Marcus laughed off her remark. ‘You are a good sales woman, Mrs Flownder. Have your Peonies and Passion Flowers reached their peak and need selling off?’
Mrs Flownder looked down at the vase of Peonies in her arms and laughed loudly, throwing her head back.
The action threw her off balance slightly and she stumbled back, knocking a metallic vase against another.
A loud ringing noise echoed out, causing Atlas to jump back, in a protective stationary stance, that pinned Rowan against the window of the shop behind him.
Rowan didn’t panic, and Marcus witnessed his calm reserve once again, as he expertly talked Atlas down, while stroking him.
‘Sorry about that, love,’ said Mrs Flownder. Marcus noticed she looked mortified, as she retreated into the shop with the vases.
Marcus held a hand up. ‘No worries. No harm done.’
Marcus looked intentionally at Rowan, his brow lifted questioningly. He’d made the statement but he had no idea if he was being presumptuous.
Atlas appeared to loosen his stance, his shoulders relaxing, yet his eyes still on high alert.
Rowan nodded. ‘He’s fine.’
Marcus exhaled audibly. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s not your fault. It’s life. This is what I’m trying to fix.’ He paused, ‘No fix is not the right word... overcome.’
Another snippet of information. Marcus fished for more.
‘Overcome from his trauma when he was in active service?’
‘Yes.’
‘When you were on duty together?’
Rowan visibly stiffened. He straightened without answering Marcus’s question. Choosing to deflect instead. ‘Let’s walk past Ruff to Regal... See if Atlas recognises it.’ He continued walking, and Marcus quickly caught up.
But Marcus couldn’t help but feel disappointed. ‘Okay.’
Instead of resuming his usual quite demeanour, Marcus was surprised when Rowan asked a question. ‘Tell me, what brought you to Seagull Bay? Ruff to Regal hasn’t been open a year yet, has it?’
‘Well, it’s not because I was running away from something, if that’s what you think.
’ Rowan stopped in his tracks. ‘I hope you don’t think that comment has anything to do with you.
It’s not a personal dig or anything like that.
.. I don’t know anything about your or Atlas’s circumstances.
’ Rowan licked his lips as he nodded and continued to walk, but Rowan could only see his profile, and it was unreadable.
‘I actually came to the bay because of circumstances. I needed a dog-grooming parlour fast, and Christine had just renovated an unused storeroom. It was just meant to be, I guess.’
‘Why did you need one fast?’
‘My business was already established in the city, but a lorry crashed into my shop, leaving it structurally unsafe.’
Rowan’s head spun to look at him after his statement. Marcus could see the concern behind his eyes.
‘Don’t worry. No one was hurt. The accident happened in the early hours.’ Marcus gave a small shrug, as if the movement could make the memory lighter than it was. ‘Anyway, I had clients booked in, and I needed somewhere to work from. The rest is history.’
He halted suddenly.
Rowan stopped with him.
‘Who am I trying to kid?’ Marcus let out a soft, humourless laugh. ‘I’m downplaying one of the biggest upheavals of my life.’
He started walking again, and Rowan matched his pace without a word.
‘My first dog-grooming shop was a completely new life for me. Before that, I was in sales. I’d been a salesman since leaving school.
At first, I loved the freedom of it. I could be myself, instead of being whoever everyone else expected me to be.
On the road, there was no pretence. But even though it felt freeing, that kind of life had chains too.
Long hours. Too much travelling. Nowhere to put down roots. ’
Marcus shook his head.
‘So when an opportunity came along for redundancy, I followed my heart for once. I opened my own dog-grooming parlour.’
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as that same quiet pride washed through him.
He paused again. Rowan was watching him properly now, listening with an intensity that made Marcus feel both seen and unsteady.
‘The one in the city?’ Rowan asked.
Marcus nodded. ‘Yes. I had a loyal customer base. Regular dogs. Owners who trusted me. It felt like I’d finally built something that was mine.’ He swallowed. ‘So when I got the call about the accident, it was devastating.’
He gave another small laugh, but this one sounded thinner.
‘It sounds daft because it was only bricks and glass, wasn’t it? No one died. No one was hurt. But I remember standing across the road in my slippers and coat, looking at the front of my shop folded in on itself, and thinking... that’s my life in there.’
For a moment, Rowan said nothing.
Then his hand came to rest briefly on Marcus’s shoulder.
‘People say no one was hurt as if that means nothing was lost.’
He dropped his hand sooner than Marcus wanted, but the weight of it lingered long after it had gone.
Marcus looked at him. How could one sentence make such an impact? How could so few words carry so much understanding?
‘I understand that kind of loss,’ Rowan said quietly. ‘Not the same kind. But I understand it.’
Marcus barely dared to breathe.
This was the most Rowan had offered him so far, and Marcus was suddenly terrified that one wrong word, one wrong expression, would send him retreating behind that wall again.
Rowan looked down at Atlas. ‘Leaving the force felt like losing a life I’d built too. I’d been in the job since leaving school. I loved it. Lived and breathed it.’ His jaw tightened slightly. ‘I started on the beat, but I always felt pulled towards the dog unit.’
Marcus stayed silent.
‘I trained to become a dog handler. Atlas was my third police dog partner.’ Rowan’s gaze softened as it settled on the German Shepherd.
‘But he was the first I trained from a young dog. We worked well together. Really well. Well enough that we were recommended for specialist work with the Ministry of Defence Police.’
Marcus’s mouth parted before he could stop it.
‘Wow.’
For the briefest moment, pride flickered across Rowan’s face.
Then it vanished.
It was as if someone had closed a door behind his eyes.
‘That was our last placement,’ Rowan said.
Marcus waited, but nothing else came.
The sharing was over.
Subconsciously, they had come to a standstill outside Ruff to Regal. The little side entrance was quiet, the gate closed, the sign hanging still in the warm afternoon air.
For a few seconds, Marcus and Rowan stood in silence, looking at each other. Not awkwardly this time. Not quite comfortably either. But something had shifted between them. Something small and fragile, like the first thread pulled through a needle.
Atlas moved first.
He stepped towards the side gate and paused, his snout lifting as he sniffed the air.
‘Well, look at that,’ Rowan said, surprise softening his voice.
Marcus’s face broke into a smile.
Another small victory.
Atlas lowered his nose to the bottom of the gate and sniffed once.
Marcus held his breath.
Rowan didn’t move. Didn’t praise. Didn’t push.
Atlas sniffed again, then looked up at Marcus.
It was only a second. Barely anything at all.
But Marcus felt it all the way through him.
‘That’s progress,’ he said softly.
Rowan’s gaze met his.
This time, he didn’t look away.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is.’
And Marcus had the unsettling feeling they were no longer only talking about Atlas.