Chapter Ten
‘Take your time walking Bess and Charlie,’ said Rachel to Dylan and me. ‘Rehoming a dog is a huge decision. Choosing which dog is even more difficult.’
Bess was now wearing a Halti, a sort of doggy bridle. Charlie was straining on a leash. His body language was clear: get me out of here. Unlike the hyper Charlie, Bess was very calm.
Rachel then guided us through the exercise area, and over to a steel gate. She paused to punch in a code. The gate swung open. Suddenly we were in the carpark.
‘Be good,’ said Rachel to Bess and Charlie. She gave both dogs a pat on the head. ‘Hopefully Bess will be a calming influence on young Charlie,’ she smiled, and held up two crossed fingers.
‘I reckon this lad needs some intensive training,’ said Dylan, as Charlie once again tugged on the lead.
‘Enjoy yourselves,’ said Rachel. ‘Don’t rush back.’
‘Thanks,’ I said gratefully.
The gate clanged shut behind us. Bess and I followed Dylan and Charlie across the carpark. We crossed the road, heading for fields and footpaths. Walking along side by side, Dylan and I fell into step. We were now taking long strides with the dogs trotting briskly at our heels.
‘How did Charlie end up at the sanctuary?’ I asked.
‘A bit of an unhappy story,’ said Dylan. ‘A couple bought him for their two-year-old daughter. A cute puppy gift.’
‘Oh dear,’ I murmured, already knowing how this tale was going to pan out.
‘Indeed,’ Dylan agreed. ‘Mum found no time to walk Charlie. Or train him, for that matter. Dad wasn’t interested. Then Mum discovered she was expecting a second baby, which meant even less time for Charlie. So, he ended up at the sanctuary through no fault of his own. And now, of course, Charlie is the doggy equivalent of a juvenile delinquent,’ Dylan chuckled.
‘Doesn’t that put you off?’
We were currently walking along a bridle path. I was grateful that the May weather had stayed dry because my sandals weren’t appropriate for mud and puddles.
‘Not at all.’ Dylan shook his head. ‘Charlie and I will be going to training classes. In a few weeks he will be a happy – but disciplined – pooch. Won’t you, boy?’
Without pausing, Dylan leant down and rubbed Charlie behind one ear. The mongrel continued trotting along, his tail wagging jauntily.
‘How do you feel about being out with Bess?’ he asked.
‘Happy,’ I acknowledged. ‘It feels… nice.’
‘You look right together,’ said Dylan approvingly.
‘Dare I say it, but it feels right,’ I confessed.
We were now approaching a point in the footpath where it divided. To the right was Trosley Country Park. To the left, Vigo Village.
‘Okay with you if we go this way?’ asked Dylan, indicating the country park.
‘Sure.’
We walked on for another ten minutes or so, then Dylan pointed out a large woodland area.
‘On the other side of those trees is the Bluebell Café. Let’s grab a coffee and see how our charges behave around food, children, and other dogs.’
‘Okay,’ I agreed.
‘I reckon Bess will be well-mannered, and that Charlie might be a bit of a nutter. Ah well. In for a penny,’ Dylan laughed.
We walked into a clearing which had been made into an outside eating area. I quickly bagged one of several trestle tables. Dylan went off to get the drinks while I minded the dogs. I marvelled at how natural it felt.
Sitting down on a wooden bench, I glanced around. To the casual onlooker, I appeared to be just another dog walker about to enjoy a cuppa after a stroll through the woods.
Most of the other tables were occupied by ramblers and dog walkers alike. Nearby, a couple with two young children were enjoying a drink. At their heels sat a well-behaved Golden Retriever. The woman was talking to a beagle that kept trying to jump on the table.
‘No, William,’ I heard her say. ‘You’re not having my toasted teacake, so please stop dribbling everywhere.’
Thanks to Little Waterlow’s grapevine, I knew of the couple. The Farrell family had made headlines when their own secrets and drama had played out in a most public way. I looked away, not wishing to be caught staring.
At that moment Dylan returned with a tray.
‘Coffee for us. I thought a bit of cake might be nice too.’
‘Oooh, a man after my own heart,’ I said carelessly, then immediately blushed. ‘I mean–’
‘I get it,’ said Dylan rescuing me. He smiled kindly. ‘It’s nice to have someone to be naughty with.’ Then it was his turn to redden. ‘Oh dear! That didn’t come out quite the way–’
‘I get it,’ I laughed, repeating back his words.
He nodded, and his eyes showed both relief and merriment. Their bright blue colour was accentuated by sun-kissed skin. At his temples, lines fanned out. This told me he was a man who liked to laugh. Like Greg.
My mind slithered away. Right now, I didn’t want to think about my husband. I instantly felt disloyal.
‘I also bought’ – Dylan waggled two baked bread bones – ‘doggy biscuits for Bess and Charlie. ‘Let’s see how they both behave around food.’
Bess was already sitting politely at my feet, but Charlie seemed to be impersonating the nearby William Beagle. His front paws were stretched up on the bench-seat. It was clear from his foxy expression that he was plotting the fastest route to the food.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Dylan. He swiftly intercepted Charlie. ‘Wait!’ he commanded. Amazingly, Charlie paused – one paw suspended in mid-air. ‘Sit!’ said Dylan. Suddenly Charlie’s bottom was parked on the grassy floor. ‘Good heavens.’ Dylan looked at me in astonishment. ‘I’ll make an obedient hound of him yet.’ He broke the biscuit in half. ‘One bit for you,’ he said to Charlie. The mongrel greedily snatched the treat. ‘And the other half for you,’ he said to Bess.
I watched in delight as Bess gently took the offering from Dylan.
‘Good girl,’ I said, giving her a pat.
Omigod. I was really doing this. I was enjoying a moment in time with this huge, ferocious looking dog. Although… was she truly ferocious? Of course not.
I broke the second biscuit in half and timidly offered it to Bess. Once again, she gently took the treat. My heart swelled.
I instantly recognised the feeling. It was one of falling in love. And it was beautiful. It had been too long since love had been in my life. Way too long.