‘I thought you said you’d spoken to Magda,’ said her mother, suddenly developing a fixation with rubbing away some mark on one of the kitchen counters. ‘She said you wouldn’t mind.’
‘What? Storing dog food for people?’
Her mother flashed an over-bright smile. ‘I’ll just get the rest of Tess’s things.’
With that, she bustled back out of the tiny cottage hallway.
‘Mum . . . ’ Too late. She was already halfway down the long skinny garden to Dad’s trusty Mercedes. Who the hell was Tess? Was Ella expected to run some kind of storage facility?
A clatter from the hall moments later made Ella jump, setting her heartbeat racing a thousand miles an hour.
‘What the hell?’ The angry snap escaped before she could stop it.
‘Sorry, dear.’
Her mother’s over-apologetic, sparkly isn’t-everything-peachy smile pricked all Ella’s guilt buttons as she watched her carry in some large oval of foam and fabric and a leather and metal chain-choker-dog-lead thing. At Ella’s feet, the metal bowls she’d dropped were still rattling and vibrating to a final standstill on the floor.
‘Here.’ Her mother thrust the lead into Ella’s hand. Definitely a dog lead. What the hell did she want with a dog lead?
Paws skittered across the stone floor and she heard the snuffle of excited dog.
‘What’s that?’ Ella backed away, staring down at a tubby black Labrador, sniffing furiously around the skirting boards, its tail thud-thudding against the wall.
Mum tried to hide her snigger. ‘A dog, dear.’
‘I can see that. What’s it doing here?’
‘It . . . er,’ – her mother and father exchanged a look – ‘lives here.’
‘No way on earth.’ Ella folded her arms, her shoulders rigid as tension gripped them. ‘You are not leaving that thing here.’ Fear skittered in the pit of her stomach; she couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t be responsible for anything right now.
‘She’s not going to be any trouble.’ Mum lifted her chin, standing resolute. ‘Besides, it will do you good.’ She gave Ella a sharp-eyed up and down, her mouth wrinkling.
Dad chipped in. ‘She’s lovely. Great company.’
‘You have her, then.’
‘We can’t. You’re at home all day.’
‘Mum . . . ’ Her mother wasn’t paying a blind bit of notice. Instead she unloaded another bag in the kitchen.
‘Poo bags.’ She screwed up her nose. ‘I brought you a scooper. Sorry, but I’m sure it’s no worse than babies’ nappies.’
Ella’s head jerked up, panic-spiked adrenaline roaring through her veins.
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘And you would know, how?’ Ella asked, spitting sarcasm like hailstones. They were not an animal family. She’d never even had a hamster. She was not a dog person.
The dog had moved away from the wall, head in the air as if scenting new prey.
Her mother ignored her, wearing an air of busy-busy like some kind of armour, impervious to Ella’s objections. Dad had made himself useful shifting the bag of food to the pantry.
With the precision of an Exocet missile on target, the dog headed towards her, snuffling, and her hand received a fulsome wet slurp.
‘Eeeuw! Seriously Mum, you can’t leave it here.’ Ella wiped her hand furiously on her jeans, itching to wash it immediately.
‘It’s a she and she’s lovely, aren’t you? She’s called Tess.’ To make up for Ella’s obvious uselessness with dogs Mum patted Tess with a great show, although Ella felt pretty sure the pats were vertical, carefully pushing the dog away from her immaculate cream wool trousers.
