‘Good, thanks,’ said Regan, taking the proffered mug and glancing surreptitiously around the landing.
Penny followed her gaze. ‘Oh. He’s downstairs.’ Her expression changed. ‘He’s really worried about you.’ Shelowered her voice. ‘I think he’s a keeper.’ Penny beamed a smile at her and she so wished she could mirror it.
‘If only,’ said Regan, the fear of losing him already a constant presence. She wandered downstairs. For a brief moment, she considered asking Penny to send him away – but what good would that do? They were in a rubbish situation, but at least they were now both on the same page.
‘Hi,’ she said, entering the living room.
‘Hey,’ he replied, twisting in her direction. ‘You look rough.’
‘Cheers.’ She gave his head a nudge with her elbow as she walked past and immediately froze. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Could she do him damage doing that? She didn’t know.
‘It’s all right. You don’t have to wrap me in cotton wool … although I do have a bit of a thing about bubble wrap.’ His eyebrows danced cheekily.
‘Are you stalking me?’ she asked, curling herself into the chair opposite.
‘Oh yeah. One hundred per cent. Penny spotted me lurking outside, felt sorry for me and gave me coffee.’
‘Okay. As long as you two aren’t fussing.’
‘Noooo,’ said Penny, overacting as she joined them.
‘I thought maybe we could check in on Elvis.’ Charlie seemed cautious.
‘I’d like that,’ said Regan, taking a sip of the coffee.
‘Once you’ve had a shower and done something with your hair.’ Charlie peered forward for a better look. ‘Do you backcomb it in your sleep?’
‘It’s the work of evil pixies,’ said Regan.
‘That explains it.’ He smiled a warmwhat might have beensmile at her and her insides melted. This was going to be so hard. He was like a giant magnet drawing her close, and she a tiny iron filing.
‘How come you’re not working?’ asked Regan. Her mind was ticking; she knew he’d been off work since Wednesday – he’d told her that in the pub when he’d once again tried to explain his shift pattern. He’d spent all yesterday searching for her, and now he was off again.
‘I was owed a few days’ leave.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. Regan felt something didn’t add up, but she decided to leave it for now.
The vet’s reception walls were covered in bright, jolly posters about fleas, ticks and overweight rabbits. A faint scent of disinfectant filled the air. An excited puppy – like something straight out of a toilet roll commercial – bounced towards them and seemed surprised when its harness bungeed it off its feet, making an almost-bald parrot with a Mohican squawk in protest. An elderly dog was sitting with its nose in the corner and its back to the room – clearly this wasn’t his first visit.
‘We’ve come to see Elvis,’ said Regan to the receptionist, and she ignored the tittering that followed. Any other day she would have found it funny, but today was never going to be one of those days.
‘I think you’d need a séance at Graceland for that,’ she said, beaming bright white teeth through a fuchsia smirk.
‘Hilarious.’ Regan’s face was stern and the receptionist’s smirk slid from her over-made-up face. ‘He’s a dog.’
‘Your dog?’ asked the receptionist.
‘No. He’s … he’s …’ Why was this so hard? The very thought of Kevin conjured up a picture of his body on the crossing. No matter what she did it wouldn’t go away.
Charlie stepped forward. ‘He was the emergency on Friday night. We brought him in.’
‘It’s against our policy. Only the owner can have access, I’m afraid.’ She jutted out her jaw.
Charlie beamed a smile at her. ‘I’m afraid the owner—’
Regan cut in and locked the receptionist in a stare. ‘His owner was the victim of a hit and run and is now lying dead in a morgue. If you want it to be front-page news ofThe Argusthat you won’t let us see his dog then you feel free to go ahead and enforce your policy.’ Regan was now leaning over the counter. Charlie placed a hand on her arm to stop her getting any closer.
The receptionist swallowed. ‘Ah. I see. I’ll need to check with someone.’
‘Yeah. You do that,’ said Regan, feeling ready for a fight.
