Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
‘Well, who’s this little fella?’ asked George, stooping to pat Tiggy, tucking his newspaper under his arm.
The widower had lived in the village for the last twenty years and owned the cottage sandwiched between Doris and the one Ella was currently living in.
He was one of Audrey’s lieutenants, organised the village shop rota and was an absolute sweetheart.
‘This is Tiggy, and she’s a she,’ explained Bets, who was on her way to call on Ella to go for a dog walk together.
‘Funny-looking thing,’ said George with a quick smile.
‘Shh,’ said Bets. ‘You’ll upset her.’
George raised his hairy eyebrows and gave the dog another cursory inspection. ‘Okay then, mum’s the word. Knock, knock.’
Bets stared at him, bemused, and initially thought she’d misheard him. ‘What?’
‘Humour me,’ he said. ‘It’s all in the delivery. Knock, knock.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘A really bad.’ He nodded at her, encouraging her to complete the joke.
‘A really bad … who?’ she asked.
‘A really bad…’ He began to cackle at his own joke. ‘A really bad…’ He wheezed and then bent double, slapping one knee. ‘A really bad… A really bad joke-teller.’
Bets sniggered, more amused by George’s delight.
It took him a minute to stop laughing at his own joke.
‘Did you get it?’ he asked, his eyes watering at his own hilarity.
‘I did, George,’ she said. ‘Maybe it needs a little work … on the timing,’ she finished, as if she knew what she was talking about. She loved stand-up and was always intrigued by how someone could stand on stage and make people laugh.
‘Timing. Yes. That’s it,’ announced George.
‘What’s brought this on?’ asked Bets, remembering that the annual comedy festival was coming up soon.
‘I was thinking of doing that stand-up comedy course they’re running over at the theatre.’
Bets nodded gravely, not wanting to hurt his feelings, although her lips were twitching at the idea of George doing stand-up in front of the whole village. Each year, the local comedy festival was kicked off by six brand-new comedians fresh from a six-week training course held in the local theatre.
‘Why not?’ she suggested. It might help him.
‘Mmm, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s a bit late to teach an old dog new tricks. And how are you doing?’
‘Me? I’m fine.’
George scrutinised her. She was getting a little fed up with everyone peering at her as if she was some sideshow freak. As if they were looking for the cracks to show and for her to break down with a fit of heartbroken vapours. She was fine.
‘Can I sign you up for an extra shift in the shop?’
‘Sure. Email me the rota.’
‘Okay, thanks. You take care now.’ At his super-earnest-caring tone, she smiled. Everyone was trying to be kind, but to be honest they were all driving her mad.
Bets continued on her way to Ella’s cottage, keeping Tiggy on her lead because she had yet to discover if the little dog had any traffic sense.
Although she did have to stop calling her a little dog; she might be very lean but she was stocky and muscular and her personality certainly wasn’t turning out be the least bit little. Tiggy knew her own mind.
‘Morning.’ At the sound of the friendly greeting, Bets looked up and realised she was outside the pub, where she found Greta hauling a crate of bottles from the boot of her estate car.
‘Morning, Greta. How are you? Gorgeous day, isn’t it?’
‘It is, the beer garden will be packed at lunchtime.’
‘I might pop in with Ella. We’re off for a walk.’
‘So I see – and who do we have here?’
‘This is Tiggy. I picked her up from the rescue centre last week.’
Greta crouched down and gave Tiggy a rub. The dog immediately lifted her head and closed her eyes as if in bliss.
‘You’ll be there all day. She loves the attention.’
‘I heard you’d picked her up.’
‘Of course you did,’ said Bets with a half laugh. ‘Nothing goes on in this village without you knowing.’ The pub was gossip central.
‘And why haven’t you introduced her to the pub yet?’ Greta gave her a penetrating stare.
Bets’ smile faded. ‘Been busy, you know.’ Come to think of it, she had been very busy.
Locking up the village hall several times this week because the usual caretaker had a bad cold, and cleaning up table decorations for Audrey, not to mention collecting and distributing the entry forms for the annual Wilsgrave Flower Show.
Greta pulled a disbelieving face. ‘Not because a certain young vet has been in situ several nights.’
‘Has he?’ Bets tried to sound blasé. ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t keep tabs on him, you know.’
‘I’d hate to think he’d driven you out. I just want you to know I’m not encouraging him. In fact, if he gives me a single excuse, I’ll bar him. I’m Team Bets all the way.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Bets. ‘You can’t do that. I promise you he’s not scared me away. I really have been busy.’
Greta cocked her head in much the same way that Tiggy did.
‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’
Bets looked over her shoulder. ‘No, they’re not.’
‘Smart arse,’ said Greta. ‘You’d better come to the quiz on Friday.’
‘I’ll be there. On the Top Dogs team.’
‘Excellent, I’ll see you there. I don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a hand on Thursday night to—’
‘Hang on.’ Bets held up her hand as it dawned on her. All these jobs. She narrowed her eyes and stared at Greta. ‘ I know what you’re all up to.’
‘Don’t know what you mean.’ Greta focused her attention on Tiggy again. ‘Aren’t you gorgeous? Well, I’d better get on, the pub won’t run itself. See you on Friday.’
‘Mmm,’ said Bets a little grimly, reflecting on the past week. Now she could see it, everyone had rallied round and, whether intentionally or not, they were running her ragged – although she was sure the intention was to keep her busy rather than drive her into exhaustion.
Should she feel grateful for their care or irritated by their interference?
That was the problem with village life. Everyone knew your business and thought it was their job to get involved.
* * *
‘Hey, there. Just coming. Tess, give me that lead.’ The black labrador was running around Ella’s legs with the lead in her mouth in the hallway as Bets opened the front gate and walked up the path to Ella’s cottage.
Tiggy stopped beside Bets’ legs, stiffening, her nose scenting the air as she studied Tess.
This was the first time Bets had taken her for a walk with another dog but Tiggy didn’t growl or bark, she just stared suspiciously at Tess. Meanwhile Tess was oblivious – too excited about a forthcoming walk to pay attention to the much smaller dog.
‘Do you think I need a jacket?’
‘No, it’s warm,’ said Bets, leaning against the door frame, watching with amusement as Ella gathered together poo bags and a couple of dog biscuits, which she shoved into the back pocket of her jeans.
A couple of months ago this would never have happened.
Ella had been fastidious about her clothes and appearance, and dog-biscuit crumbs would not have been tolerated.
‘Right, all set. Honestly, I always worry I’m going to forget something.’ Ella wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s the problem with going out with a vet, you feel you have to be an exemplary dog owner.’
‘Chill,’ said Bets with a laugh. ‘Devon is too in lurve with you to let anyone make a comment about you. And Tess doesn’t exactly look unhappy.’
The black lab’s tongue was lolling out of her mouth in a doggy grin.
‘True.’ Ella beamed and locked the front door, finally retrieving the leash from Tess’ mouth and clipping it to her collar.
The dog immediately went nose to nose with Tiggy, who stood looking up at her with adoring eyes, or at least that’s what Bets told herself.
She really hoped the dogs would get on. Then, with a jump like a horse bucking, almost jerking the lead out of Bets’ hand, Tiggy ran at Tess.
bumping into her, almost knocking her flying, before turning to run away.
‘Tiggy, stop,’ said Bets, her arm almost pulled out of its socket. ‘She’s stronger than she looks. I think she wants to play.’
Tess gave a little whine.
‘It’s okay, she wants to play,’ said Bets, patting Tess. ‘But she doesn’t know her own strength.’ She hauled the dog back, glad that she’d bought a harness for Tiggy.
Leaving the cottage, they took the overgrown path towards the reservoir, a favourite walk with both of them.
‘Aren’t the colours just so lush at the moment?
All the shades of green,’ said Ella, kicking at the bushy vegetation edging the path, which forced them to walk single file.
They unclipped the leads and let the two dogs run on ahead, Tiggy trotting along behind Tess, her little legs going like pistons as she tried to keep up with Tess’ much longer ones.
‘Mm,’ said Bets, the sight of her leg brushing the fronds of bright green grass triggering a memory of Jack leaning over her as they lay on the steep bank of the reservoir.
Him grinning down at her while he tickled the sensitive skin under her chin with the seed head of a long piece of grass.
The clear, bright memory, full of sunshine and happiness, brought with it an ache in her heart so intense it was a physical sensation.
It was, she acknowledged to herself, as if she was carrying a rock around with her all the time, always conscious of its presence.
Every now and then, some thought would catch her and she’d feel the pressure of its weight in her chest and the accompanying dull, leaden pain.
She swallowed hard and stared down at her feet.
Keep walking, she told herself grimly, keep walking.
It was so hard at moments like this to hold the stupid tears at bay.
They took her by surprise, hijacking a perfectly fine day.
The stealth with which these dumb, irritating emotions crept up and poleaxed her both perplexed and annoyed her. Surely she should be in control.
‘Bets?’ Ella’s soft voice broke into her self-pitying reverie. ‘Are you okay?’
Damn, some of those stupid tears had managed to leak down her face.
‘Fine,’ said Bets.