‘Either of us! I don’t want this, she’ll only get hurt like me and then…’
A sob clutched at Pippa’s throat and stole her next words as a tear escaped from one eye, fingers gripping the fridge door. She closed the door carefully, unable to hold back a gasp as she felt the firm pressure of his hands on her shoulders. He turned her, swiftly pulling her tight into him, and it was enough to loosen the anguish she’d battled to contain.
She hadn’t been held in so long, not like this. Raf was a hugger, her dad too, when she saw him. But Gil was different, broad and solid, present. Her face was buried against his chest as she tried to gulp back the sobs and one hand was stroking a circle on her back, the other holding her steady as she clutched onto him.
‘You had a pet before?’ he asked gently. She nodded, nearly undone by her loss of control. His shirt was damp with her tears, heart a hurried beat against her cheek, hands sure and certain on her back. ‘When you were young?’
‘Fifteen.’ She swallowed. ‘After my mum. After she died.’
‘A dog?’
‘Yes.’ The word was muffled, and she was aware of his hand pressing her gently, letting her know he understood. She didn’t want to let go or have him release her, not yet. ‘She was called Ginger.’
‘What breed was she?’ His voice was a rumble deep in his chest and one hand moved to her head, tangling in her hair to keep her close.
‘A Beagle.’ Her breath was still gulping hiccups and she sniffed. ‘Dad got her as a surprise, he thought she would help us. She was so loving, and he wanted something we could cuddle.’
‘What was she like? Friendly, playful, intelligent?’
‘Yes. All of those things. She was meant to be for all of us, but she became mine really, Raf and Tilly weren’t that interested after a while. She slept on my bed, and she knew all my secrets.’ Pippa managed a smile; so many of the memories were wonderful. ‘She knew when I was happy or sad, and she’d be waiting for me as soon as I got home. She loved to play, and she was so clever, so tuned into me it was as though she understood everything I felt. I adored her.’
‘Of course you did,’ Gil murmured. ‘I’m sorry seeing Maud tonight has brought all this back.’
‘I don’t want Harriet to go through what I did if anything happens to Maud,’ Pippa said fiercely. She lifted her head to stare at him, wanting, needing to be clear, and uncaring of her reddened and puffy eyes. ‘I know what you’ll say, and it would break her heart. She doesn’t deserve that.’
‘No, and neither did you.’ He placed a hand either side of her face. ‘Pippa, you can’t protect her forever, much as you want to. She has to find her own way and make her own mistakes, just like we do. Maud would be good for her. For both of you.’
‘You don’t understand.’ The dread, the guilt was rushing back, deadening her voice. ‘It was my fault Ginger died. She was only four. We were in the park, and I threw a ball for her, and it rolled under the fence into the road. She jumped it. I’d never seen her do that before.’
Pippa could still remember her own screaming as she’d gathered Ginger up and held her all the way to the vets in a stranger’s car. Legs vanishing from underneath her when the vet came to say how sorry they were, but they hadn’t been able to save her beloved companion. Refusing all her dad’s frantic offers of other pets and collecting Ginger’s things to give away to a charity because she couldn’t bear to see the empty bed, the scattered toys, the home broken by loss once again.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Gil insisted. ‘Dogs do unpredictable things all the time, no matter how much we think we know them. You weren’t to know she’d jump a fence if she’d never done that before.’
‘I put her in harm’s way. It was my fault.’ The words were running on a loop in her mind, even though Gil’s made sense. Everyone’s had at the time; she just couldn’t hold onto that and make them real. ‘I failed her.’
‘You gave Ginger a wonderful home and loved her for the rest of her life. I’m sorry it wasn’t a long one, but I’ve seen so many animals who never come close to that. Maud would be incredibly lucky to have you, both of you.’
‘That’s quite a pitch.’ She smiled weakly. Gil’s assurances were kind, but it would take more time yet to allow them to settle in her heart and heal the space Ginger’s loss had opened up.
‘Don’t rush into it,’ he said quietly, both thumbs smoothing her cheeks. ‘You’re right to consider all the practical reasons and be sure you can make it work.’
‘Mum? What’s going on?’
‘Harriet!’ Pippa sprang away from Gil as though she’d been shoved, face burning. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Obviously.’ Harriet was greeting Lola, but her tone was anxious. ‘So is there something here you need to tell me?’
‘I’m going to make us something to eat.’ Gil looked at Harriet. ‘Why don’t you and your mum take Lola into the sitting room and chill for a bit?’
‘Not until you tell me what’s going on and why Mum’s been crying.’ Harriet had wrapped her arms around herself, fear rushing into her eyes. ‘You’re not ill or something, are you?’
‘No, of course I’m not.’ Pippa found a smile. ‘But chilling does sound nice, if Gil doesn’t mind cooking vegetarian.’
‘I think I’ll cope,’ he said dryly, turning away.
Harriet followed Pippa into the sitting room and Pippa was glad of Lola’s company too, as Harriet settled on the floor with her. Pippa joined them, needing to be close to Harriet, wanting the touch of her daughter’s arms and legs against hers.
‘I got myself a bit upset after you left, thinking about Maud, and Gil was trying to help.’Had helped. ‘I’ve never told you this before and I’m sorry I didn’t.’ Pippa went on, explaining about Ginger and why she’d hidden all the photos of them together. It wasn’t long before Harriet was crying too, gripping Pippa’s hand fiercely as she snuggled closer.
