Chapter sixteen
By the time Marcus reached the beach on Sunday morning, the wind had softened to a playful breeze, but the evidence of its overnight tantrum was everywhere: bunting twisted around posts, sand blown in ripples against the marquee legs, and one of Old Po’s handwritten arrows hanging at such an angle it appeared to be directing dogs, owners and half of Seagull Bay straight into the sea.
Marcus stood at the top of the steps, clipboard tucked beneath one arm, heart thudding with nerves and pride as he looked down at the competition site.
After days of planning, panic, help, arguments, kisses, setbacks and second chances, the annual Seagull Bay dog competition was no longer an idea sitting heavily on his shoulders. It was real.
The voices of Christine and Tom from behind were music to Marcus’s ears. He spun around to greet them, not caring how manic his relieved smile was. ‘Thank goodness you are here. I think it looks worse than what it is.’
‘I agree,’ Tom said, ‘I’ve just been trying to tell Christine the same but she thinks it’s Armageddon.’
Marcus laughed with relief. Tom’s statement was just what he needed to hear.
‘But look.’ Christine pointed at the sand piled up against the marquee.’
Marcus poo-poohed her reaction with a swish of his hand. ‘Nothing a brush can’t sort out. We have half an hour before resident helpers arrive, and an hour before contestants register their arrival. I’m sure everything will be ship-shape before then.’
Christine eyed the tangled bunting with worried eyes. ‘If you say so. I guess we’d better get cracking.’
Twenty minutes later, the competition site looked exactly as it had when he’d finished securing it with Jack and Rowan, the evening before.
Marcus looked around for Rowan’s face amongst the residents, who were slowly making their way in a group from the steps leading down from the seafront onto the beach, but neither he or Atlas were amongst them.
His stomach dropped into his feet. Yesterday when they’d eaten lunch together, Rowan had reinforced his previous statement of showing up, because he had. He’d been there to help at Ruff to Regal, even turning up to help with the exterior decorating of his home.
Marcus chewed his lower lip. Rowan had accompanied him to the beach last night to help Jack and him secure things for the weather warning. Had it been too much? Had he decided that was the final time he’d show up? He hoped not.
Tammy headed the group of residents who’d pledged to help out, her arms holding a large plastic box. Her red face indicated she was struggling with its weight. Marcus rushed forward, placing his clipboard on top of the box before relieving Tammy of it.
‘Good morning, Tammy, what do you have in there?’
‘Morning, Marcus. It’s the dog biscuits.’
‘Wow. Are you expecting a small army of pooches? I was thinking fifty at most—thirty five pre-registered, and fifteen walk-ups.’
‘Yeah, but they aren’t going to eat one biscuit each, and you never know, you might get double the amount of entries you are predicting.’
Marcus baulked. He hadn’t thought of that. It was a good job he hadn’t been the one in charge of making and supplying the biscuits.
He watched the residents head to their designated duties without needing direction from him, sighing with relief. So far so good. ‘This way, Tammy. I’ve got an area at the back of the big marquee for you to be based with these.’
Marcus swept his eyes over the beach before he entered the marquee. The sun was shining, the gentle lapping of waves meant the sea was calm, and everyone was where they were meant to be. All they needed now, was the dog contestants and their owners. Marcus felt his chest swell with pride.
As he left the main marquee, he almost bumped into the reverend. ‘Ah, there you are, Marcus. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve done my first blessing.’
Marcus’s brow lifted, causing a ripple of lines. ‘Really? Have the contestants started to arrive already?’
Reverend Townsend chuckled shaking his head. ‘No, it wasn’t flesh and blood I blessed, it was this site.’
Marcus’s brow smoothed, and a broad smile lit up his face. ‘Thank you, reverend. I can breathe easy now knowing the Big Man upstairs has my back.’
Reverend Townsend belly laughed, throwing his head back. ‘We all refer to Our Father as a man, but he might well be a woman.’
‘Well whatever label we give the source up there, I’m grateful to have him or her, in my corner.’
Reverend Townsend nodded his head, and with a huge smile, turned around and headed for the tent Marcus had provided for him to do his dog blessings in.
His peripheral vision caught sight of a figure that made his pulse race. He turned to see Rowan’s large back, his hands resting on his hips, as he stood back admiring the quiet zone.
Marcus’s step had a spring in it as he walked over to him.
‘Is Atlas at your rented home?’ He had no idea why the word rented had slipped into his sentence.
Rowan spun around on hearing his voice, and Marcus noticed his eyes checking him out from head to foot, instantly stirring butterflies in his chest.
He couldn’t stop his eyes doing the same thing. Rowan was wearing a tight fitting white long sleeved T-shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, the couple of buttons it had at the top, unbuttoned, letting the black hairs on his chest peek out.
Marcus swallowed hard.
‘No. I decided he should be here. It will do him good. He’s inside in the shade.’
Marcus nodded, ‘I’m glad. It wouldn’t be the same without him.’
As if he knew they were talking about him, Atlas’s head appeared, poking out from the half-opened flap of the small marquee.
To both of their amazement, Atlas pushed through the opening and walked up to Marcus, sniffing the hand down by his side.
Marcus looked across to Rowan, his eyes wide. ‘Is he—’
Rowan’s features softened. ‘Yes, he is... He’s waiting for you to pet him.’
Marcus slowly ran his hand over Atlas’s head. His fur was soft, yet oily, in need of a bath. ‘Do you think he trusts me enough to groom him now?’
Rowan was pulling his lips into his mouth, as if biting down on them, his lids blinking, and Marcus suspected he was fighting back tears. His voice was hoarse. ‘Yes... I do believe he will.’
‘Marcus!’
Marcus sighed. Back to reality. He turned around to see Veronica heading his way. She stopped in front of him breathless.
‘They are here... the first of the contestants are parking up on the seafront.’
Marcus’s heart immediately ramped up a gear, and began to thunder in his chest. ‘Thanks, Veronica.’
He turned back to Rowan, his eyes wide with nerves.
‘It’s going to be fine. We’ve got this.’
We’ve?
Marcus breathed in deeply, and exhaled loudly. ‘I’d better go.’
Rowan nodded, a smile—a real smile sliding onto his lips.
PIPPA WAS SITTING DOWN at a table on the edge of the competition site. She’d volunteered to be the first port of call, much to the despair of Marcus and Oliver, insisting that writing down names of entries was doing her part, and not at all tiring—an easy way of her being involved.
Marcus couldn’t believe the length of the queue waiting to be signed in by Pippa. He was quite surprised by how well behaved the dogs standing next to their owners, were behaving, St Bernards next to Chinese Crested dogs, only a few of them fidgeting and barking at the other dogs.
Pippa seemed to sense him there because she glanced up at Marcus in between welcoming and signing in the next owner and pet.
‘Morning, Marcus.’
Good morning, Pippa. Are you okay doing this on your own, do you need me to get anyone to sit with you?’
Marcus smiled at the sea of faces looking his way.
‘No it’s fine. Ollie will be here soon. He’s just taking Ginger and Jess to the pub so that Dad and Aunt Morgan can watch them for an hour while we’re here doing our bit.’
‘Okay, that’s great.’ Marcus looked back to the sea of faces.
‘Good morning, everyone. Thank y—’ A flock of seagulls flew overhead squawking loudly, setting some of the dogs off barking.
Marcus felt something drop on his shoulder, and looked down to see one of the gulls had left a deposit there. ‘Ugh, great.’
‘That’s good luck,’ called someone from halfway down the queue.
Marcus flashed his most charming smile, even though he was mortified.
He hadn’t even thought to bring a clean top with him.
‘Fantastic... As I was saying. Thank you all for attending Seagull Bay’s second annual dog competition.
Pippa here, will sign your pets into your desired entries and hand you a list of today’s competition’s itinerary. Good luck, and I’ll see you all later.’
Marcus turned to leave and was stopped in his tracks by a rupture of applause. He couldn’t believe it. It was as if all his hard work had been rewarded in that moment. He turned around and bowed his head.
Still in a daze from the impromptu applause, Marcus found himself wandering near to the quiet zone again. Rowan came out of the marquee just as he was passing. ‘Oh no. They got you.’
Marcus frowned slightly, unsure what he meant. ‘Who?’
Rowan pointed to his shoulder. The gulls.’
Marcus had already forgotten about the mess. He smiled and groaned as he nodded. ‘Yes. Just as I was welcoming the owners and their pets as well.’
Rowan held his finger up. ‘One second.’ He disappeared back into the marquee, reappearing a moment later with a denim shirt in his hand.
‘Here. You’re about the same size as me.
’ He dipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he stared at Marcus’s chest. Marcus suddenly felt very self-conscious, and wished instead of thinking of doing push-ups these past few months, he’d actually done some.
‘Maybe not quite as broad, but this should fit.’
Marcus reached for the shirt. ‘Thank you.’
Rowan gestured to the marquee. ‘Go in there and change. There’s only Atlas in there at the moment.’