Eva thinks for a moment. ‘Space programme bosses put bromide in Brussels sprout so astronaut on long mission does not want sex. If I was astronaut on long mission, I think not so bothered about Brussels sprout.’
‘If I was an astronaut I would ban any kind of sprout from the cockpit. Apparently if you have a fizzy drink in space you do wet burps. Like, basically, a cola fountain …’
‘Let us make wet wine burp.’
Doodle gets excited when we spew a stream of red into our laps and burst into giggles. ‘Down, naughty Doodle,’ we shout, dissolving again. He does a victory lap of the living room to celebrate being back in the fold. Meanwhile, I tip five fortune cookies onto the table. I asked for some spares as the messages can be a bit random.
Eva unwraps hers and bites into it. I do the same, rolling out the message. ‘“The love of my life is right in front of my eyes.”’ Doodle sniffs out the cookie and plants his face in front of mine. ‘Oh please!’ I say, and when he licks my nose, I turn to Eva. ‘See what I mean about some of them being a waste of time?’
He slinks off, insulted.
Eva reads hers. ‘“Life without deeds is a garden of weeds.”’ She scrunches up the packaging and aims it at the bin in the corner. Since she arrived, every waste-paper basket has become a basketball hoop, like we’re auditioning to rent Joey’s flat inFriends. She churns out so many ideas for apps and websites, most of them instantly discarded, that we’re getting practised at landing on the sweet spot. Doodle rushes to the rescue when she misses, bringing me the scrunched-up paper like a cat with a mouse. I try again and this time it goes in. We cheer and Doodle goes nuts, lapping the room again. For the first time in a while, I feel warm and fuzzy in my own flat.
Eva finishes the wine and opens another bottle. ‘Kai official boss-hole soon. Father start to let go of business. Kai cross because agency worker refuse to clean ketchup from ceiling in penthouse and not enough room ready for guest this morning. Kai need top cleaner back.’
‘Me? I’m not going back,’ I say, before narrowing my eyes. ‘Why was there ketchup on the ceiling?’
Eva avoids my gaze, grabbing the plates and taking them to the sink.
Chapter 8
Checking my social media as soon as I wake, I notice a DM from the editor of theLondon Gazette.
Thanks for approaching us about the advice columnist vacancy. Looked at your social media and thought you might be a good fit. Please email a CV and a few words about why you think you’d be right for us. Recompense may not meet your expectations, but I think we could agree on something mutually beneficial.
I get up and go into the living room, where Doodle is sprawled out on Eva’s feet as she sleeps.
‘Come here, dog.’ He lifts his head, hauls himself to his feet and pads over to me. Then he rears up and raises his front paws.
‘No,’ I say, putting them firmly on the floor. ‘You are not to jump up on me every time I enter a room.’ He tries to nip my fingers with his sharp teeth. ‘And stop the biting, OK?’ I use my sternest voice and hold my palm up like a traffic policeman. ‘We are going to forget about yesterday’s diabolical show and start again. Let’s pretend we’ve just met. You will learn how to behave, and I will learn how to teach you. This means greeting me, and others, with respect. When you’ve proved you can be trusted to say hello without hurting me, I might offer you a reward or some affection.’ He gives me another nip. Lord, this is just as difficult as my session with Vince. And I’m not sure which of them has more bite. When I offer my hand he lunges for me again, his teeth piercing my fingers. Firmly tapping him on the nose, I tell him to get down with more authority. Amazingly, this does the trick. He stands, four paws on the kitchen tiles, whining lightly. I keep my hand out in the air and look him in the eye. He falls silent. I crouch down to his level. ‘I will take this as an apology for yesterday.’ He responds by swiping my nose with his tongue. ‘No, Doodle! There are rules now and if you and I are to form any kind of partnership you will need to abide by them. You will not bowl me over when I head off to the bathroom every morning. But you may come and gently sniff me out, at which point I might stroke your head or give you breakfast. You will not creep into my bedroom and try and sneak onto my bed. You will stay on a short leash of sausages when we are out for a walk, and bothering toddlers is forbidden. Also, please quit peeing on my kitchen floor. In return, I will give you snacks and treats and all the tickles you want, within reason. And we might be lucky enough to write a column together.’
He spins around and I tell him to sit. Remarkably, he obeys and I feed him a doggy biscuit. Then I make a cup of tea and lay out my diagnostic tools for Vince, drawing up one of the ‘Pleasure and Progress’ charts we were taught to make at uni. Then, after letting Doodle out into the garden to pee and sniff the bushes, I compose a sample problem for the editor of theGazetteto strengthen my application. As I write I think of Vince and the issue that threatened to derail our meeting.
Dear Daisy and Doodle,
My partner and I are soon to be married. But I’ve recently noticed alcohol on his breath. True, he might be secretly choosing the best vintage champagne for our wedding breakfast but more worryingly, he may have a problem. Do I postpone the celebration while I try and discover the truth?
Sam from Surbiton
P.S.: Doodle, what’s your top tip for avoiding fleas?
I make some breakfast while I think about the sample reply. When Doodle wanders back in, I ask for his input. Looking blank, he sniffs at my toast, which gives me an idea. Googling a dog’s sense of smell, I learn Doodle’s nose is up to forty times more sophisticated than mine. I realise I have my answer and tap it into my phone.
Dear Sam from Surbiton,
Doodle never chooses whether to dally with a dodgy dinner based on a single sniff. He puts everything into working out if his canine bowels can chance it. Be thorough in your investigation of hubby-to-be by sniffing out the truth. Smell his breath every chance you can, then sniff his clothes, his car, towels and sheets. Log your findings in a spreadsheet along with his moods and social habits. Analyse the results for different times of the day or week.
If you have a good relationship with his parents or siblings, privately voice your concerns to them. Also be aware that apparent alcohol breath can be a sign of something else, like diabetes. If he is drinking regularly and secretly it could be a symptom of anxiety and you may want to put the brakes on the wedding while you listen to him or investigate further. In my Twitter feed I advise people to #BeMoreYou. Help him to be more him without the aid of props or addiction. And then #BeMoreYouTwo. You can do this together. Doodle’s nose and my heart are with you all the way.
On the subject of fleas, without undermining all of the above advice, try spraying your dog’s collar with vodka. Apparently it’s not fleas’ favourite tipple and they’ll springboard to another long-haired host!
Yours, Daisy and Doodle
‘OK, dog, it’s coffee time.’ Doodle follows me into the hall and when I grab his lead he rears up. ‘Ouch!’ I say as he scratches my thigh through my jeans. ‘I think we might still have some work to do on the training front, don’t you?’
Joe is on his own when we reach his van. He holds his arms out for Doodle, who dashes into them, nearly tearing one of mine off at the elbow as the lead fails to extend.
‘How’s my favourite pup?’
