Chapter 5
Day Two
This is bad, and so fucking good all at the same time. I’m glad Ollie can’t see this; his little sister melted into my arms, but I can’t help how much I’m enjoying it.
She’s seen straight through all my bullshit and bravado. These damn dogs of hers have opened me up, showing a part of me I’ve kept well-hidden. Self-preservation will drive you to do things that once seemed totally out of character.
As a kid lost in a world of music, books and hell, even poetry—and daring to have a ‘pretty boy’ face (according to my brothers)—growing up in a small rural backwater was a nightmare. Teasing and bullying followed me around. Even my own brothers joined in; sometimes they led it; taunting me, calling me gay, a potent insult in a small town where homophobia still lies not far below the surface.
So I put up a tough guy front, and it’s served me well. I survived the last of school, escaped to London, worked in crap jobs, and then forged a multi-million pound career doing the thing I love—all behind this protective mask.
Those pricks who made my life miserable should take a look at me now. I got the last laugh, because although I’ve done my best to roughen up my face, with this scruffy beard my mother hates, it seems girls still like it fine. And this one seems to not only like my face, but has seen the person beneath the beard, tattoos and long hair and—unlike my family—hasn’t found me wanting.
“I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough,” she murmurs into my chest.
“Just seeing that dog make it through was all the thanks I need, Haley.”
Within minutes, her breathing slows, and sleep claims her from me. I could lay here forever, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against mine, but after ten minutes I admit to myself her needs must come ahead of my selfishness; and she needs bed.
I loop one arm under her knees and, taking care not to wake her, raise her gently from the couch. After years on the farm hefting calves and hay bales, lifting Haley’s childlike form is effortless.
With the dog supervising at my heels, I head for her bedroom. I manage to sidle up to the wall and angle one hand to flick on a light switch without disturbing the sleeping woman in my arms. Soft light floods the space. Her space. I didn’t have time to take it in amidst the frantic panic of a few hours earlier. I steal a moment now; pause to breathe in the smell. It’s like her, the fragrance of tropical flowers.
Everything is neat but with a feminine touch. The small sofa looks inviting, the cushions arranged in a tasteful row. A stuffed bookshelf tells me she’s a reader like Ollie—and like me; but I note the arrangement, with colourful spines facing out, in a carefully organised rainbow.
The bed is the only off note in this orderly room, a cue to the mayhem of earlier. Bedcovers lie askew, white sheets in a tangle. The floral spread hangs to one side, its edge brushing the floor.
I loosen an arm and stoop low, dragging a pillow back into place. Lowering her onto the pristine sheet, the sight of her fucking grabs me. She’s perfection; even with her hair disheveled, cheeks blotchy from her earlier tears, and little creases in them where she’s lain, sleeping against my shirt.
Although reluctant to leave her, I have no excuse to stay, so I drag myself away to bed, and between exhaustion and satisfaction, sleep finds me quickly.
“It’s OK, Christian,” Haley says as I reach to open the car door. “You won’t need to come into the clinic. Would you believe she’s up on her feet?” There’s a mixture of weariness and elation in her voice.
Like me, she’s exhausted. We met at the breakfast table way too early, both mumbling about our inability to sleep. As she gloomily munched toast, I reminded her, with guarded optimism, no news was good news. When the call came, seeing the glow of hope return to her face, like the first wash of a spotlight across a dark stage, I couldn’t contain my happiness for her—and for that damn dog that’s already gotten hold of my heart. I wrapped her tight in a spontaneous hug of celebration. She didn’t object. It felt so fucking good.
It’s great news I don’t have to leave the car, not only for the dog. We were fortunate last night. The entire vet team fell outside the demographic for stupid reality shows and rock music. The woman at reception didn’t show the slightest flicker of recognition at the name on the credit card. It’s just as well, as these few days before the damning Episode 5 airs are crucial. Anyone suspects I’m not on that show before Wednesday night and the arsehole production company’s lawyers are going to grind me into nothing.
So I’m happy not to take a risk with the day staff, letting Haley go inside alone to collect Tully, while Mularkey and I sit in the car park out front, trying to look inconspicuous. That’s kind of difficult when it’s Sunday afternoon and this bright yellow super car is the only one here. Anyone passing by is definitely going to take a second glance at the guy in cap and dark glasses inside it on a wet winter London day.
Not to mention the large wolf-like dog perched in the tiny backseat. I breathe the unavoidable smell of damp canine, one that triggers an avalanche of childhood memories; most good, a few sad, and I embrace the nostalgia of those days. With Mularkey silhouetted against the rear window, it looks like Batman is keeping watch over my shoulder. Somehow she suspects what I know—her best friend is going to appear from those sliding doors any moment now .
I’m grateful Haley takes my need to lie low seriously. It’s heartening she’s accepted my word that all this shit is important, trusting me even though I’ve given her so few details. Maybe she doesn’t see me as such an arsehole after helping her with saving the dog. Where dogs are concerned, I’d have done something, anyway. I couldn’t stand by and let an animal suffer. But when it’s for her dog, fuck it, I’d have walked right in there myself without this subterfuge if that’s what it took. I’d do anything for Haley Templeton, risk anything.
Behind me, Mularkey tenses and then disintegrates into a whole-body wag. She pokes her head alongside mine, leaning through the tiny open window, while with muzzle raised, she sings the song of her people into the chill air, welcoming her buddy. It echoes off the brick-walled buildings and a woman and kids walking by laugh and point. So much for lying low.
Haley and Tully walk slowly towards us, a pair of matching grins as wide as the sky and my mouth curves upwards in response. I feel like punching the air in celebration. We did it; victory over the evil bloat that tried to snatch this beautiful dog away and break Haley’s heart. There’s not a trace of the previous night’s trauma on Tully’s smiling face.
“Dogs are bloody amazing, aren’t they?” I say, as she hauls herself into the back seat on her own, moving with surprising ease despite the stitches which lie hidden along her stomach, a large shaved strip on her side the only hint of their presence. If it was a human, they’d be in hospital for a week after going through something like that.
“For sure,” Haley nods. “This one in particular. She’s staunch. Even the vet can’t believe how well she’s come through. Although they would have kept her until tomorrow except for her having her own personal nurse on call. ”
Haley ruffles the back of Tully’s neck, below where it peeks out of the large plastic cone.
“Tully won’t love her nurse when she realises you’re not going to take that off.”
“No, the cone of shame stays till Friday,” Haley laughs.
“My boy, Jet, had to have one once. He went around ramming everything with it—doorframes, walls, posts, even our legs. Then sat there sulking and giving me the stink eye.” There’s a twinge of pain at the memory of how he ended up in that state, but Haley pulls me back from it with a question.
“Your dog, Jet—what was he?”
“Border collie. Failed cattle dog. Scared of cows.”
“Kind of a deal-breaker on a dairy farm, I suppose?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t ours to begin with. Belonged to the farmer next door. Said he was going to put a bullet in him.”
I still recall those chilling words. An idyllic summer afternoon playing with the neighbours’ kids turned into a nightmare, but it was one I could do something about. Nestled high in a tree hut, I’d overheard the death sentence pronounced and tumbled down in a heap at the man’s feet. I begged for that dog like I’ve never begged for anything before or since.
Then I had to do it over again when I took him home to face my father’s sour summing up of the situation: the dog could stay, but there was no room for freeloaders on our property. Every cent of his food and care had to be paid for by extra work on the farm. It was worth every minute of those hated chores. The farm work took me away from the books and music that were my only love until Jet, but I willingly put more of them aside so he might have what he needed. And everything I gave to him, he gave it back in double with years of companionship to a lonely boy, the cuckoo in the nest of a traditional farming family.
“Oh my god, that’s terrible.” Her eyes are wide, mouth aghast. Like most kids raised in the city, Haley has no idea of the cold hard facts of rural life.
“Yeah, not an uncommon attitude,” I say. “Can’t save them all, but I saved him.”
I still feel a surge of pride. Even as a scruffy eleven-year-old, I stood up for what was right; and now that sense of justice has got me in deep shit once again.
I sigh internally. Today I’m going to have to face it. No lounging around at Haley’s, pretending it hasn’t happened. Exactly what I’m going to do about it, I have no idea, especially as the one person who could possibly help me, my only ally on Wild For The Win , is stuck inside the prison camp up there in Scotland while I’m doing time in solitary down here in London.
Anyway, that will have to wait. It’s time to get these three gorgeous girls home. With Tully installed in the rear seat, Mularkey perched beside her, tongue dangling loose and relaxed, and Haley beaming at the pair of them in the rear-view mirror, I fire up the car.
It’s hard to drive this car conservatively when everything about it taunts me to plant my foot and set free the beast rumbling behind us. Stopped at a red light, I can’t help but give the engine a blip.
“God, I love this car,” I murmur.
“If you love it so much, why don’t you just buy one?” Haley asks. “I mean, I can understand you not wanting the whole house in the country thing, like Ollie. Rural life’s no novelty to you, I suppose. But a car… ”
So here it is. My chance to tell her why I’m not rolling in cash. Why I can’t afford to be sued by those pricks at the production company. Why I can’t simply throw a hundred grand of my own at the dog charity and be done with it.
I’m not comfortable casting myself in the role of hero. However, languishing here as a villain in Haley Templeton’s eyes is torture. The temptation is great. I take a deep breath and consider how I can explain this without revealing all the details. To do so might make me come across as a saint, and I’m definitely not that.
“Yeah, well, I do have a place in the country. Overspent on that, so no fancy cars for me.”
“You do? Where? Why didn’t you go there?”
Yeah, Haley might appreciate my help last night, but she’s still keen to get rid of me. Damn it, I’m so fucking stupid to hope otherwise. My brain remains sluggish from lack of sleep and I’m not thinking. Her questions are completely logical, and it looks like there’s no choice but to answer them. Damned if I do and damned if I don’t. So I do.
“I can’t go there. Because it’s actually the family farm. Mum, Dad, my two brothers, their wives and kids—I guess you could say it’s a bit crowded down there in Cheshire. No room for me.”
“You bought your family’s farm?” Her confused frown suggests more questions are on their way, so resisting the urge to drown them out with the roar of the powerful engine, I pull away from the green light driving like a nana, and begin.
“Yeah, it kind of became necessary.”
I hesitate again. Apart from Ollie, who I asked to say nothing, Haley is the first person I’ve told this to. I should resent my father and brothers begrudging gratitude towards me for saving them from losing a hundred years of family tradition and their livelihood. I shouldn’t care about exposing their ineptitude, but somehow, I’m reluctant to paint them as the useless bastards they are.
I’m not sure where this loyalty comes from. They haven’t been exactly my biggest supporters over the years, but they did play the game back on that first opportunity, reluctantly but consistently showing up on set at Star Power . So I owe them something.
“Dad made a few bad decisions.” Like twenty years’ worth. “Production was tracking downwards, and he didn’t seem to be able to turn it around.” Because he’s a stubborn old git who buries his head in the sand. “And my brothers tried a few suggestions, but nothing worked out.” Spent thousands on a consultant and then thought they knew better and didn’t take his expensive advice. “So, it was heading for a mortgagee sale. Before the bank could act, I bought it. Well, paid them enough to keep it in the family. And took on the ongoing payments to keep it there.”
She’s so quiet I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head over the purr of the engine idling as we pause at another set of lights. Haley is as smart as she is pretty; a thinker like her brother and I glance across to see ripples of thoughts glide across her face as she’s processing what I’ve told her.
“Wow,” she says. One word; and nothing more, as we weave through the build-up of Sunday afternoon tourist traffic along the last stretch of Bayswater Road.