Some far-sighted soul had placed a bench on the top of the escarpment, from which one could take in the view of Aylesbury Vale stretching towards the distant horizon, if the weather was good enough. Not today, though. She sat, plunking herself down with an uncoordinated thud, the dog at her feet, as she stared into the drizzly plain below. The weather matched her mood. The ache was still there. The constant lead weight wedged under her ribs was definitely still there, along with the strung-out, stressed tightness which if she was honest had been there for much longer than the last month.
When had it become so much a part of her life? That horrid sense of being late for something all the time, something intangible that she couldn’t see or touch but that made her incessantly anxious and worried. It had been there before Christmas. Bonfire night. Halloween. The holiday to Rome in September.
For some stupid, stupid reason, she started to cry. Bugger, she’d thought she was all cried out. As the tears streamed down her cheek, the dog – Tess – came and sat right beside her, leaning heavily against Ella’s leg. Absently she touched one of her ears.
‘I bet you think I’m mad, don’t you, Tess?’ Beneath her fingers, the dog’s ear felt surprising soft and velvety. ‘Humans are so complicated. It must be much easier to be a dog. Eat, sleep, walk. You don’t have relationships. Don’t have jobs. Big decisions. People letting you down.’
The dog watched her, the eyes soft and gentle, as Ella stroked her head. She shuffled closer as if she were listening to every word.
‘You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, have you?’
The dog just blinked.
*
The cold had taken hold, seeping right into her bones, and it took her a minute to get her car keys out of her pocket.
‘Come on, in you get,’ she said, opening the boot.
The dog stood next to her, looking as pathetic and exhausted as Ella felt.
‘Come on. In.’ Ella tapped the car, as if that might help. ‘The sooner you get in the sooner we can warm up.’
She leaned down and got a noseful of yucky wet dog smell as she looped her arms around the barrel belly and tugged.
Tess stood four square as if she’d dug her paws in and wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Oh, for crying out loud.’ Ella opened the back passenger door. Maybe that would be easier for the dog.
She heard a crunch of gravel and turned around to see a man marching towards her with quick angry strides.
‘What—’ she managed to stammer, aware of his fury. Dark brows had drawn in two angry slashes about flashing eyes.
‘Are you mad?’ he growled.
‘Pardon?’ What was his problem? She peered up at him from underneath the hood of her ski jacket.
‘Have you any idea what happens to a dog if you brake suddenly? Not just to you. On impact a dog can have the equivalent weight of a baby elephant. Imagine that going through the windscreen. You wouldn’t have to be going very fast. And a dog this size could do a hell of lot of damage . . . if it survived.’
She looked at the dog and the car, about to explain that she was new at this but there wasn’t a chance – a brief breath and he was off again.
‘People like you make me sick. A perfectly healthy dog and look at the state of her. Overweight and under-exercised. Not to add that you have no idea of how to look after her. She needs to go on a serious diet and get more exercise.’ His mouth tightened and then he added, ‘You both do.’
Ella’s mouth dropped open. What?!
‘You’ve given that dog less than fifteen minutes of exercise. Labs are gun dogs. Bred to be working dogs. Christ, you’ve got all this,’ he spread his arms about, ‘and you manage less than a quarter of an hour.’ He huffed. ‘Irresponsible pet owners like you make me sick.’
Ella felt so winded by the full-frontal tirade she couldn’t seem to make her mouth work. She stood, stiff, her limbs frozen into wary shock, eyeing him.
Now he’d stopped he just stood there, looking back at her. What did he want?
The dog looked balefully at him. Ella touched Tess’s head. See, the dog was on her side.
Suddenly the man turned and it looked as if he was about to walk away, but then he spun around, crouched down and lifted Tess up. He paused and looked at Ella as if he were going to say something and then thought better of it, as he gently placed the dog in the car. He carefully closed the boot, ducked his head and marched off.
She. Was. Not. Going. To. Cry. At least not in front of him. It was worse than being dressed down by the headmaster at school, not that she ever had been. As he disappeared into the gloom she still couldn’t think of a single quick-witted comeback.Bastarddidn’t quite cut it.
‘Wanky, pompous gitface.’ Her back straightened. Saying the words out loud made her feel better, even though she still wouldhave liked to use a good put-down. ‘Bloody men.’ All of them were hateful.
