‘Hiya,’ said Regan, giving him an odd wave – it was like someone had dialled up her awkwardness setting and now she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands.
‘You got the dog then.’
‘Good spot.’ She couldn’t help it.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t take him, but I’m glad you’ve worked something out.’
Regan pulled a face; she couldn’t let him think that everything was rosy. ‘We’re both living at the studio and Cleo is back in five days. So you were right, it wasn’t a good decision; but I really had no choice.’ Charlie opened his mouth, but then seemed to change his mind. ‘Anyway,’ she continued. ‘Something will come up. It always does.’ She tried to sound hopeful, although voicing the situation did send a mild panic through her now. She wasn’t makingany money on the market and she was about to be made homeless again, and this time she had a giant dog in tow – she was going to end up living on the streets like Kevin. In fact, exactly like Kevin; because now she had Elvis too.
‘Are we okay?’ he asked. He was studying her closely.
‘Yeah. You’re forgiven.’ How could she not forgive Charlie? Those eyes, that face – he was all very forgivable. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, but it’s a nice surprise … for the hedgehogs.’ She didn’t want to get too mushy.
‘I figured if you’re volunteering here, they’d need all the help they could get,’ said Charlie, lifting down a cage.
She stuck her tongue out at him and tried to ignore the sight outside of Elvis attempting to hump a garden gnome.
That evening, she had her head down and so did Elvis as they walked along the seafront. It had been good to see Charlie; it always was. It was always bittersweet: the more she saw him, the more she wanted to see him … and snog his face off … and drag him to bed. She realised she wasn’t a lot different to Elvis, with his ‘taste it, hump it’ approach to the world.
Up ahead she heard the unique laugh of Tarty Tara – a sound like someone strangling a hysterical hyena. There was nowhere to escape to, but thankfully the light was fading. Regan cast a quick glance at the shadowy figures approaching. Tara was walking arm in arm with another woman. Regan kept her head down. Elvis pulled at the lead as the women approached, and she did her best to yank him back. The older woman lurched away looking startled – or was that just her over-the-top make-up? ‘Sorry,’ said Regan, hoping Tara didn’t recognise her, because she wanted to avoid any awkward conversations.They carried on in their separate directions and Regan heaved a sigh of relief.
Her phone lit up and she answered the FaceTime from Cleo. ‘Hi, how’s things?’ asked Regan, safe in the knowledge that a background of Brighton seafront gave no hint of her deceptions.
‘Where are you?’ asked Cleo, who seemed to be in a car.
‘I am walking my dog,’ said Regan, proudly. She angled the phone for Cleo to see Elvis, who was still straining to get a look at Tarty Tara and her friend.
‘Oh, wow. What a cutie.’ Cleo seemed genuinely pleased, which was good. ‘You must have zoomed in because he looks ridiculously huge.’
‘Well … he’s definitely not handbag sized.’
‘Anyway. I’ve got a surprise …’ Cleo left an ominous pause. ‘I’ve decided not to go to Taiwan so I’m home!’
Regan almost dropped the phone. ‘Home! Where? What? How? Home?’
Cleo laughed. ‘I knew you’d be pleased.’ How the hell did she interpret this level of stunned panic as pleased?
‘When you sayhome…’Please don’t go to the studio, she thought.
‘My flat is still occupied so I’m checking in to the Grand Hotel.’ Regan breathed a tiny sigh of relief. ‘I’m popping to the studio first, and then—’
‘Oh, no, no, no …’ Regan was panicking. Cleo was looking alarmed.
Regan started to speedwalk and an excited Elvis lolloped alongside her. She needed a reason to stop Cleo going to the studio. ‘I’m not far from the Grand. Meet me there,’ said Regan, trying to cross her fingers and nearly dropping the phone.
‘I thought I’d best check the studio because—’
‘The studio is fine,’ cut in Regan. ‘Better than fine. No need to check. I’ve been … um … keeping a regular eye on it for you.’
‘Okay. Great. Thank you. I’ll see you at the Grand in about twenty minutes then?’
‘Perfect,’ said Regan, slowing to a walk and ending the call. At least that bought her some much-needed thinking time. Although all she was thinking right now wasShiiiiiiiit!
She had twenty minutes to come up with something resembling an explanation as to why Cleo’s studio was a temporary squat and dog rescue.
Chapter Thirty
Elvis stopped to water the railings, so Regan paused and looked out to sea. There was something soothing about the ocean, but it wasn’t having its usual magical calming effect, which she needed right now.
