‘Mum,’ she whined, with all the grace of a petulant toddler sensing defeat.
‘It’s easy, darling. You won’t know she’s here.’
‘Mum, I can’t have a dog.’ She sighed, she certainly didn’t want one. She didn’t want anything, anyone. Was being left alone too much to ask?
‘Of course you can. You’re here all day. It’s easy. Honestly, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. All you have to do is feed her twice a day. Once in the morning, once in the evening at six o’clock. One scoop only. Put water in the other bowl. Take her out for a walk once or twice a day.’ Her pasty cheeks received another narrow-eyed look. ‘Fresh air and exercise will do you good. You look so tired and . . . ’
Ella waited to see how she might diplomatically mention the pounds she’d mislaid recently.
‘And,’ her mother puffed herself up like a pigeon, ‘she’ll be company for you and your father won’t be quite so anxious about you being here on your own at night. We’re worried about you.’ Her mother’s mouth quivered.
Ella sighed. ‘Mum, I’m fine. Honestly. I’ve been busy, working really hard. I’ve got a deadline.’ One that, currently, had as much chance of being met as her and this thing entering Crufts. ‘I’m fine.’
Her mother tilted her head, turning away, but not before Ella spotted the slight sheen in her eyes. Shit. That’s what mothers did. They worried. Cared. Maternal instinct pre-programmed. When did it kick in? Hard and fast, from conception? Birth? Or did it settle in with serene grace, bedding in as the mother–child bond grew?
Crossing the kitchen, feeling a tender whip of shame, she touched her mother on the shoulder. ‘All right, I’ll take the damn dog.’
‘That’s wonderful. It’ll do you good, get you out of the house. In fact,’ she said brightly, ‘Dad only took her for a short walk earlier.’
‘Actually Shirley, it was—’
She shot him a look. ‘A dog like this needs lots of walks – don’t you, sweetheart?’ She gave the dog another vertical pat. ‘Why don’t you take her to Wendover Woods once you’ve settled in?’
She watched as her parents in their separate cars – Dad in his faithful Mercedes and Mum in her nippy runaround – vied to let the other go first before they pulled away from the kerb. It took them a good five minutes of misplaced manners before her mother finally conceded and roared off in an irritated huff. Dad gave her a cheerful wave and followed in an altogether more sedate manner.
The minute they were out of sight, whatever backbone Ella had mustered to hold it all together upped and left without so much as a backward glance. Her inward breath sliced sharp in tandem with a half sob. Stumbling to one of the wooden chairs, she collapsed onto it, dropped her head to the table and cried. No-holds-barred sobs, tears running down her face – and she didn’t give a shit when they mingled with her running nose or when she wiped it with the back of her sleeve, sniffing with pig-like snorking noises against the tidal flow.
It was so bloody exhausting trying to pretend everything was OK, and a bloody relief they’d gone and left her in peace. A gentle whiffle around her ankles reminded her she wasn’t completely on her own. Not that a dog counted. She gave one last unladylike sniff and glared at the animal at her feet.
‘And you’re the last thing I damn well need.’
She pushed her hands against the table to shove herself upright and crossed back to the sink. Through the kitchen window, beyond the long front garden, the empty green and silent street seemed to mock her. Why had she let herself be persuaded by Magda? It might only be an hour back into town,but there were 24 hours in day, 168 in a week, 672 in a month and she had 4,032 of the buggers to fill over the next six months. (She’d worked that depressing figure out on the train on the way here.) With what? This place could have been the dark side of the moon, for all the similarity it had with London. There was nothing here.
The dog began another of its nosy explorations of the corners of the kitchen, snuffling with the gusto of a Dyson on turbo charge. As her gaze followed it, she spotted a navy blue envelope pinned to a floral fabric-backed noticeboard. Her name was written on it in Magda’s distinctive script, the silver letters flowing like moonlight across the dark colour.
She released it from the pin. It looked like a party invitation. Although it was probably more instructions for the boiler or for locking up the house. Wearily she tossed the envelope down on the table.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she snapped as the dog gave her what definitely looked like a disapproving frown, its brown eyes blinking, and furrowed lines appearing on its furry face.
Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity and for the prick of guilt that lanced her, she reached for the envelope.
Mother Nature has a wonderful way of healing. Repeat this blessing daily to find your peace and centre.
Oh dear, was Magda on some spiritual kick? That was new. With a wry smile, she read the writing written on a postcard-sized piece of heavy blue paper. Her godmother meant well but surely no one believed in this mumbo-jumbo. It was rather sweet, although she didn’t imagine for a moment, it would make her feel better.
Under Spring’s awakening gaze
Breathe Earth’s bountiful fragrances
Enjoy slow lengthening days
Find peace among the blossom
the warmth of deepening rays
breathing life back
Pay homage to nature’s beauty
