Chapter 1
“Stop that!” Isabelle Ross cried sharply.
The dog ignored her, happily rolling on his back in the long grass—and whatever disgusting thing he’d found in it this time.
Izzy put her hands on her hips. “Right, buster, you’ve earned yourself a bath when we get back and no giving me those puppy-dog eyes, either. You’ve brought this on yourself!”
As if recognizing the word ‘bath’, the dog heaved himself up, shook himself down, and then proceeded to give her those very puppy-dog eyes she’d warned him about. The effect was ruined somewhat by the lines of slobber that hung from his mouth.
Izzy sighed. Snaffles was not what you’d call a ‘cute’ dog. An English Mastiff with a golden coat and black face, he was muscular, strong as an ox, and just about big enough for Izzy to ride on. Perhaps this was why he’d been at the adoption center for as long as he had. ‘Misunderstood’ was the way Izzy liked to describe him. He might look big and scary, but he was a softie underneath if people took the time to get to know him.
“Right. Let’s go, buddy,” she said, adjusting the rucksack on her back then walking off. “We’ve a long way to go yet.”
Snaffles soon caught up with her and put his nose to the ground as he followed a scent along the well-worn path that wound through the heather. It was a bright late winter’s day. The sky was a clear vault of blue and although the trees werestill leafless and the grass still brown and brittle, the wind carried a faint hint of spring that was more than welcome. Around her, the ridges and gullies, windswept valleys and heather-clad moors of the Dragon’s Back stretched away into the distance in all directions. There was not another soul in sight.
Izzy took a deep breath, letting the icy air blow away the cobwebs and the tension that had built up in her shoulders. Ah, this was exactly what she needed. Out here, the little everyday concerns that usually bugged her seemed far away and unimportant. So what if she’d been shouted at by a customer earlier today? So what that her boss was an unsympathetic a-hole more interested in his sports cars than his employees? So what if she had to put up with regular abuse from customers who were annoyed that she couldn’t somehow magically extend their overdrafts or up the credit limit for their already maxed-out credit cards? As far as they were concerned,shewas the cause of their financial woes and, boy, they liked to let her know about it.
She sighed. Why had she ever thought going into banking was a good idea?
Because it’s safe,she thought.Because it’s risk free and predictable. Steady job. Steady pay check. Isn’t safe what you always choose?
Maybe so, but out here, the thought of predictability seemed small and insignificant. She looked around. Here was life, wild and free. The wind blowing through her hair, the rustling grass beneath her feet, Snaffles’ heavy panting beside her—it all seemed more real than the drudgery of customer complaints and bureaucratic red tape.
Perhaps that’s why she came out here as often as she could. Perhaps that’s why she always went up to the adoption center on her day off. Perhaps that’s why she brought some of the dogs—usually Snaffles, as he was the longest-serving resident—up here. It reminded her of a freedom that was beyond her reach in her usual life.
Her phone suddenly beeped. Digging it out of her pocket, she read the message that flashed up on the screen. It was from Mike, the manager of the adoption center.
Snaffles’ adoption has fallen through. The daughter is scared of him after he pulled her over during their meet-and-greet.
Izzy sighed, then fired off a quick response to Mike.The right home is out there somewhere. She looked down at Snaffles and the big mastiff stared up at her with his huge, liquid eyes, tail thumping from side to side, blissfully unaware that his third adoption had fallen through. Izzy had been tempted to take him on herself, but she lived alone and worked long hours and so it wouldn’t have been fair. Snaffles needed a family. One that wasn’t put off by his intimidating exterior.
“Don’t worry, boy,” she said, scratching his massive head. “There’s someone out there for you. Just you wait and see.”
Izzy put her phone away and continued walking, her boots crunching on the rocky trail. Snaffles roamed around her in a wide arc, nose skimming the ground, tail sticking up above the tufts of brown grass and whispering heather like the mast of a ship.
After a while, they reached a high ridge overlooking a moor, bathed in the resplendent glow of the afternoon sunlight. Izzy sighed in contentment as she looked out. Herewas her favorite spot, away from the world of performance targets and irritated customers. She liked to come here and sit and not think for a while—but today it seemed as though she wasn’t the only one with that in mind.
A figure sat on a rock protruding from the ridge, their back to Izzy, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. Snaffles spotted the figure too and, before Izzy could stop him, went bounding over, tail whizzing from side to side, ignoring all her attempts to call him back.
“Sorry!” she called, hurrying after the disobedient hound. “He won’t hurt you! He’s just excitable!”
The figure turned at her shout and Izzy realized it was an old woman, clad in a shapeless brown coat. A look of surprise flashed across her face as Snaffles pounced on her, licking her face with such enthusiasm that Izzy wondered if she had eaten something delicious recently. Laughter erupted from the woman as she futilely tried to shield herself from the dog’s assault of slobber-filled affection.
“Snaffles, off!” Izzy cried as she reached them. She grabbed his collar and tugged. The mastiff dutifully complied, but not before sneaking in one last lick.
“I’m sorry about him,” Izzy managed to say, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Some dog walker she was! First, he rolls in something unspeakable and then he almost drowns a stranger in slobber!
The woman laughed again, a sound as warm and inviting as a crackling fire on a cold evening. “It’s alright, my dear. I like dogs.”
“Oh, good,” Izzy replied, feeling mightily relieved. “Some people find him a bit scary.”
“Then those people see only what’s on the outside dinna they?” the old woman replied. “Without bothering to look within.”
Izzy blinked, surprised by such an insight. Then she remembered her manners and extended her hand. “Um, hello. I’m Isabelle.”
The woman reached out and shook Izzy’s hand. Her grip was firm and strong, even though her skin was as wrinkled as old parchment. “Irene, my dear. Irene MacAskill.”
“Nice to meet you, Irene.”
