‘You can call her Joan,’ Leanne muttered. ‘I’ve given up arguing with her. Might as well fight a brick wall.’
‘Right. Well, she considers Nesbit to be partly hers, which is fine, so she’s been spending a lot of time with him in the garden after school, and on Saturday. Only, this week, while the weather’s been so bad, she’s come to see him in my house every day.’
Leanne stood up. ‘I’ll tell her to stop bothering you. She gets bored when it’s too wet to get outside. But there’s not a lot I can do about it. Not unless old Ebenezer decides to plant a money tree.’
‘She’s not bothering me,’ I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. I didn’t stand up to join her – and not just because my jeans were stuck to something that I really hoped wasn’t a blob of chewing gum. ‘I really like having her over. She’s been a great help training Nesbit while I get on with some work, too. I just wanted to check that you were okay with it. I’ve given her dinner a couple of times. It’s as easy to cook for two as for one, and to be honest this is my first time living alone, and I appreciate the company. I definitely don’t want any money or anything, far from it – but if you could do with someone to watch out for her while you’re working, I’m happy to help.’
Leanne took a step back and sagged against the wall behind her. Her head dropped, and for a moment I wondered if she was crying, but then she pushed back her shoulders and looked me straight in the eye.
‘If you don’t mind her hanging around, then that would be very helpful, thank you.’
‘Not at all. My mum raised me on her own. I know how hard it can be.’
Leanne gave one brief nod. ‘Let me know if she’s being a pain, though. Or does anything out of order. Send her right back again if she’s not behaving.’
I shook my head. ‘She’s always behaved brilliantly.’
Leanne folded her arms. ‘You must know something I don’t. I’ve lost track of how often school have dragged me in to tell me that she’s kicked off or told the teacher to stand further away because he smells like eggy farts.’
‘She didn’t!’
Leanne grimaced. ‘It was all I could do not to laugh, because it’s true.’
‘Well, maybe she’s fine at mine because she’s trying to impress Nesbit.’
‘Yeah. Maybe. Either way, I appreciate it.’ She shifted her gaze to the ceiling. ‘And the leftovers.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
I took a deep breath, deciding that after such a surprisingly positive conversation it was worth taking things one step further. ‘Um. Joan also mentioned that you’ve not been well. Is there—’
Leanne’s face instantly set like concrete. ‘Like I said, thanks for keeping an eye on Joan. As soon as I’ve a spot free, I’ll come and clean your house. But it’s been a long day and I need to spend some time with my girl.’
‘Of course. I’ll see myself out.’
Friday, I had back-to-back coaching sessions with Yasmin and then Trev. Usually I allowed half an hour between sessions, but I’d started telling Yasmin about Nesbit’s chicken theft, and her air of bleak sorrow had once again shifted to animation as she’d spent the next twenty minutes giving me an impromptu dog-training class.
‘You’re too nice, this is your problem!’ she cried, causing Irene Jenkins to flinch as though Yasmin had screamed in her ear. ‘If you act like a pushover then of course everyone is going to push you right over and trample on your face. Dogs especially.’
I cringed at the accuracy of her statement. Was it that obvious?
‘So what can I do about it?’ I asked. ‘I mean, when it comes to Nesbit.’
‘Show him that you are the boss!’ She pointed at the ceiling to emphasis the point. ‘Fun, kind, generous boss. But still the boss. He needs to respect you. Otherwise before you know it you’ll be feeding him steak and smoked salmon. You have to show him his place.’
‘I totally agree,’ a tiny woman bent over her walking stick said as she hobbled past. ‘Teach him who’s boss, and make sure he don’t forget it. A husband needs to stay in his place. Earn his steak.’
‘Um, that’s not actually…’ I tried to interrupt, but Trev, who had just appeared, got there first.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, folding bulging arms. ‘That’s a load of codswallop. How about mutual respect, love and understanding? What she said is verging on abusive, and to be honest, Ollie, I’m shocked you would sit here listening to this rubbish.’