“No,” I said. “She didn’t think to mention it.”
Bloody hell, with a Christmas like this one, what in God’s name was the New Year going to bring?
WINTER TWO
7
When I saw the Cambridge train approaching, I quickly called to the off-the-leash border collie: “Milo! Here, boy!”
Too late. The train was almost level with us now, and Milo—whose favourite hobby was racing trains—took off, determined to catch up with it, an elusive flash of barking black and white. Dachshunds Toto and Lily, the two other dogs I was walking, were safely on the lead, thank goodness. Oh well. At least I knew Milo would come back after he’d finally accepted defeat, and the railway line was on the other side of the river, so he was quite safe.
The receding train and Milo’s barking were the only sounds to be heard. We were alone, me and the dogs. I was used to it now, although I did still miss the buzz of London. Ely was a city—a tiny one, but still a city because of the cathedral. It wasn’t exactly bustling. You couldn’t jump on a bus to catch the latest play in the West End. And there wasn’t the same mixture of different cultures and international restaurants, markets, and clothing stores that you got in Dalston.
It was pretty, though. And besides, Jaimie wasn’t in Dalston. He was here, in Ely. Jaimie with his enthusiastic lovemaking. His waggy-tailed approach to life and a smile that lit up his face. Family man Jaimie, full of love for his girls. For Jaimie, I had put my reservations about rural living aside and ignored my longings for my old job and my former work colleagues. After all, wasn’t I lucky to have found this dog-walking job when there weren’t any veterinary-nurse vacancies going? And it was still working with animals. Worthwhile, too, since without me, these dogs would be shut up all day, living a dull life. The countryside was growing on me too. If you went on the same walks several times a week, you got to notice all the small changes. When Jaimie and I had taken his girls on an organised nature walk, I’d learnt to spot otter runs and the best places to see kingfishers. I hadn’t seen an otter yet—the dogs would probably scare them off even if they were around—but it was rare for a week to go by without me seeing a kingfisher, and that flash of brilliant blue always made me gasp with pleasure. You didn’t get that in Dalston.
The girls hadn’t been that interested in the nature walk, actually. Olivia loved animals, but she’d rather go to a petting zoo than tramp through the countryside. Besides, it hadn’t been a good weekend for the girls. Their mother was away visiting her parents on the coast, and the girls probably felt they were missing out. I’d felt for them, I really had, knowing what it is like to long for your mother, and I’d tried my very best to—well, not take her place, exactly, but to make up for her not being there.
The girls. Oh heck. Normally when I did this walk in the afternoons, the Cambridge train didn’t pass us until I’d turned back towards the car with all the dogs safe on the lead, which meant that either the train had been early today or I was late. And if I was late, there wouldn’t be enough time to return all three dogs to their homes before I had to go and collect the girls from school. And there was a huge black rain cloud heading in our direction.
“Milo!” I called, my voice battling against a wind that had suddenly sprung up. “Milo!”
Lily whimpered, probably sensing it was about to rain. Just as the first fat drops began to fall, Milo reappeared, running towards me with his tongue out, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Despite everything, I laughed, bending to clip on his lead. It was impossible to stay cross with him, and normally I loved to see him indulge in his favourite hobby. It was just the thought of being late to the school. Again. And the likelihood that I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere close by to park, which would mean the girls getting a soaking. And my having to take them with me to drop off Milo.
“Come on,” I urged the dachshunds, breaking into a trot. “Let’s get you two home, at least.”
By the time we reached the van, all four of us were soaked. After giving Milo a cursory wipe down with a towel, I held the door to his travel cage open for him. He jumped straight in, allowing me to spend longer drying and settling Toto and Lily. Milo’s owners might have treated him like the child they never had, but he was a farm dog at heart, bred for the wild outdoors. A little bit of rain wouldn’t bother him.
Toto and Lily lived together in a house near the cathedral. By the time I’d dropped them off and parked on a side street near the school, it was well over five minutes since the bell marking the end of the school day had rung. As I ran through the rain, my hair plastered to my scalp, everyone—parents, children, toddlers, and babies in buggies—was going in the opposite direction to me.
Either Jaimie or I collected the girls from school two or three times a week. At first, after I’d moved to Ely, Jaimie had always done it. But then the property he’d been restoring had sold, and his next one was farther away. So I’d gladly offered to do it, and now I was mostly the one who collected them when the girls stayed overnight with us. It made practical sense, since my dog-walking work was reasonably flexible, and it was potential bonding time too—just me and the girls. As long as I remembered to look at my watch, that is.
What with the storm clouds, it was almost dark as I hurried across the playground, but not too dark to see that Olivia and Emily were the last children to be collected, sheltering with Olivia’s teacher on the porch. The lights in the classrooms behind them were ablaze, illuminating the paraphernalia of Christmas—decorations, Christmas cards, paintings. But there was nothing festive about Emily’s expression as I ran across the tarmac, and my heart sank when I saw Olivia was holding a painting. Just how was I supposed to get that safely home through the rain?
“Sorry I’m late,” I said to the teacher.
“That’s all right,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Olivia. Don’t forget your costume for the nativity play, will you? Bye, Emily.”
“Hi, girls,” I said, pretending not to notice Emily’s glare. “Sorry, Milo ran off again. Have you done a lovely painting, Olivia? Can I see it?”
Olivia clutched the picture to her chest. “No, it’s for Mummy.”
Unfortunately, despite my very best efforts and intentions, my bonding efforts hadn’t exactly been going to plan.
“Well, you’d better let me put it inside my coat if you don’t want it to get spoiled, I think, don’t you?”
When Olivia’s mouth set into a mutinous line, her sister snapped at her: “Just let her do it so we can get home.”
A veritable explosion of glitter erupted in the air between us as Olivia reluctantly passed her painting over to me. “Don’t look at it,” she commanded. “It’s a special painting for Mummy.”
“I won’t.” I unzipped my coat and placed the picture with the painted side against my jumper, silently apologising to it for the glitter coating it was about to receive. Then I picked up the girls’ abandoned lunch boxes in one hand and took Olivia’s hand in the other.
“Come on, we’ll have to run.”
“Why did you park so far away?” Emily complained. I didn’t answer that, because I knew she knew why. And anyway, with the special surprise I’d got lined up for her, I didn’t want us to fall out. I couldn’t wait to see her face when I gave it to her.