Passing their table, she found six pairs of eyes watching her curiously.
Spotting Nathan talking to a group of girls, she acknowledged his wave and slipped onto a bar stool to wait for him. She was about to order a glass of wine when she felt someone touch her arm. Expecting to see Nathan, instead she found Kieran leaning on the bar beside her.
‘Cat, can I have a word?’ he began, swallowing uncomfortably, then hesitated, turning to glance in the direction of his friends. They were all glaring at him and she saw one of them mouth the words, ‘Go on then.’
He cleared his throat, running a nervous hand over his short dark hair, and began again.
‘I just wanted to …’ he hesitated, ‘to apologise for what I did the other evening. Touching you … taking liberties … wrong … and totally out of order.’
‘What?’ Cat frowned at him. She couldn’t believe Kieran, someone who rated himself as God’s gift to women and therefore free to do pretty much what he wanted with his hands, currently stood beside her, completely flustered and spouting an apology.
‘I’m sorry, alright?’ he repeated, his voice shaky as he raised his hands and took a step backwards, ‘I willnever evertouch you again, I promise faithfully.’
‘O … kay.’ Cat felt totally confused. Whatever had come over him?
‘Is there something else?’ she asked as he continued to linger a few steps away from her, his face reddening with embarrassment. What was going on? This had better not be another of his wind-ups or he’d be in big trouble.
‘Um, can I get you a drink?’
‘A drink?’ Cat frowned and looked over to where they all sat watching. ‘Are you lot having a laugh?’ She nodded towards them.
‘What?’ He turned to look and they all waved their bottles at him. Some were smirking; others had full-blown grins on their faces. ‘No … no, of course not.’ He looked horrified. ‘I—’
‘Kieran, stop,’ Cat interrupted, determined to get to the bottom of this weird, almost panicky behaviour. ‘What you did happened nearly a fortnight ago. You’ve been here several times since then and you’ve totally ignored me. Why are you doing this now?’
‘It’s … the boys,’ he said quickly, jerking a thumb in their direction. ‘The other evening I told them what I did. I thought they’d think it funny, but they didn’t. When you arrived this evening they saw you and told me I should come apologise and buy you a drink. They said I had to … or else. So now I’veexplained everything, will you please have that drink with me?’ he asked, looking anxiously over his shoulder.
Cat wasn’t sure whether he’d been telling the truth, but the rest of the group were certainly on his case. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she asked for a white wine. However, Kieran insisted on a grander gesture, buying her a glass of champagne. He ordered a round for his friends but didn’t stay to chat with her. She watched him return to the table, set the tray of drinks down and settle back in his seat. Nothing happened, no backslapping, no laughter. In fact they seemed unusually quiet, not one of them turning to look in her direction, including Kieran. Very strange, she thought, as Nathan joined her.
Cat paused for a moment to take in the view. Out for her morning walk with the dogs, she had stopped to let the elderly Gussie catch up. Today, in a change from her usual route along the cliffs above West Beach, she decided to take the dogs in the opposite direction. North Sands was quieter, allowing her plenty of undisturbed moments like this one; a beautiful early summer morning filled with seabirds’ cries and the sound of the sea washing against the beach below, the sun already showing its eager face over the edge of the moors to the east.
After allowing Gussie to get her second wind, she continued her journey. It was mostly deserted at this time of day, although she had already passed one or two joggers out for their early morning exercise. She checked her watch. Back at the hotel, breakfast would already be underway and her stomach growled in anticipation of the croissants and fresh orange juice waiting for her.
Up ahead she spotted the end of her journey, a place where the path abruptly ended its run along the cliff top. There, to the left of the imposing wall of granite that loomed above, broad steps were cut into the rock. Supported by strong fencing andwire safety netting they led in a wide zigzag down to the sand below. Cat gave a sigh of relief. Like her, the dogs were probably desperate for their breakfast, which meant their return trip would be done in half the time. She was a hundred or so yards away from the steps when a rabbit darted out from under the gorse and Gulliver immediately took off in pursuit.
‘Bloody dog,’ she cursed under her breath. ‘Gulliver, come back here at once!’ she yelled at the top of her voice, but intent on his pursuit of the rabbit, he took no notice at all.
‘Gussie, stay.’ She waved a finger at Gulliver’s aging mama who looked up at her and rolled her big brown eyes as if to say, ‘With my legs? Where do you think I’m going?’ And of course, Cat realised, being far too old and arthritic, she wouldn’t follow. She watched as Gussie gave a greatharrumphand slumped down into the scrubby grass bordering the path, before heading off at a swift run. She hoped the rabbit hadn’t got a burrow somewhere in the side of the cliff. Because if it had, Ruan’s mad chocolate Lab would surely follow.
She reached the end of the pathway, still yelling for Gulliver, but the only sounds she could hear were the rush of the incoming tide against the rocks below and the shrill cry of gulls overhead. Looking up at the dark cliff face in front of her, she knew the only way left for him was down. She hoped he’d used the path. She didn’t want to think about the alternative. As she stood getting her breath back, the wind picked up, busying itself with the loose strands of her hair, which had escaped from the tortoiseshell clip during her run. Scooping back the thick blonde mass to secure it once more, she noticed a figure below; a man jogging along the water’s edge. In vest and shorts, a baseball cap covering his head, he had an athletic, loose-limbed style, his trainers leaving soft wet footprints in the sand behind him. From nowhere, a dog appeared. Cat immediately recognised Gulliver, and sent up a prayer of thanks that he was safe. The runnerbroke his stride and stopped, resting his hands on his knees, drawing in deep breaths. Gully loved people. In fact, her father often joked he’d probably lick burglars to death if they broke in. Now the man had become the latest victim to be co-opted into the Gulliver Trevelyan admiration society as he bounced around him, desperately seeking attention. The stranger pulled up from his resting position and stretched before reaching down to ruffle Gully’s coat. Cat frowned as she watched the man get the dog to shake paws before checking the disc on his collar. Then he stood for a moment, scanning the beach, probably searching for the dog’s human companion. He shook his head and said something to Gulliver, and then Cat’s mouth went dry as she watched him lift the dog into his arms. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Not only had the stranger scooped him up as if he weighed nothing, it looked as if he planned to steal her beloved dog in broad daylight.
‘Stop!’ she yelled, dashing down the steps with absolutely no regard for her safety. Gulliver. She had to rescue Gulliver. All the way to the bottom she continued to shout, trying to gain his attention. He disappeared for a moment under the overhang of the cliff and she feared the worst. However, by the time she finally reached the beach, to her relief he was still there, walking towards her, Gulliver resting quite comfortably in his arms.
Tall and well muscled, the stranger halted momentarily, bending down to gently deposit Gulliver onto the beach. Cat realised he wasn’t dog-knapping at all; there was blood. Gully had injured his leg. She watched the man straighten up, pull off the baseball cap and brush his hair from his face. ‘Of all the …’ Cat cursed. Damn! Luke Carrack. Larger than life and no doubt more than willing to give her another lecture. Insufferable lout, she thought, closing her eyes. Could her day get any worse? When she opened them again he stood only a few feet away, Gulliver back in his arms once more. She braced herself foranother tongue-lashing but instead she heard him say, ‘I think we need to get him to a vet.’
‘There we go, all done,’ Callum Mackintosh said, making a final adjustment to the Elizabethan collar he’d just secured around Gulliver’s neck. Gulliver’s brown eyes fixed on Cat. He didn’t look at all impressed and she knew he’d be absolute murder to live with while he was forced to wear it.
‘Thank you so much, Callum. It was good of you to turn out so early to see him,’ she said, giving the Labrador’s broad chest a rub as he sat quietly on the consulting table in Carrenporth’s veterinary practice. ‘That will teach him to go off chasing rabbits.’
‘A pleasure,’ the young vet said. ‘Actually, you can thank Luke. I owed him a favour.’
Cat nodded, wondering exactly what this favour might be. Yet another follower to add to this impossible man’s ever growing fan club.
‘Luckily, the cut wasn’t too deep,’ the vet said as he moved over to his computer terminal and keyed in his password. ‘I’ve given him a shot of antibiotics, but keep an eye on the leg and bring him back if you have any concerns. Now, I just need to book you a follow up appointment to remove the stitches.’ Cat nodded, watching as he consulted the practice’s electronic booking system. ‘Ten thirty, Thursday week okay?’ he asked. ‘Gulliver’s wound should have healed by then.’
Cat pulled her mobile from the back pocket of her cut offs and pulled up her electronic diary. She checked the date and with a nod, keyed in the appointment.
‘Well, I think you can go home now, old boy,’ Callum said, making a final check on the dog’s bandaged left front leg before he lifted him off the table and placed him gently on the floor. Cat unbuckled her belt to create a makeshift lead. She slippedit through Gulliver’s collar and followed Callum out into the waiting area where Luke waited with Gussie. At the sight of her son, the old dog got up and waddled over to sniff him. Gulliver’s tail began to wag. No doubt, being reunited with his mother reassured him they were heading for home.
