‘Owner need dog,’ Eva repeats, sweeping the house for Doodle’s possessions and chucking them haphazardly into a bin bag.
‘Be careful, funny monkey has come undone! I’ve been meaning to sew him up.’ I grab the toy and wander hopelessly after her, while Doodle trails behind me in case the sudden activity elicits a bone.
‘We don’t have to jump the moment his selfish owner decides to give up her beach lounger do we? It’s an unnecessary smash and grab. She’s treating him like a possession, not a person.’
Eva looks at me with surprise. ‘Want him back? Log onto site and pay rent. But not available today.’ Doodle returns to his favourite place by the radiator where he lies flat out on the floor. His is a conditional love, totally based on walks and food and throwing a plastic slinky across the room a thousand times a day, and it feels better than any relationship I’ve ever had.
‘Please don’t take him.’
‘Need to go.’
‘How much does he cost to rent out?’
‘Fifty pounds.’
‘People are paying fifty pounds a month? To look after someone else’s dog?’
She shrugs. ‘Fifty a week in festive season.’
‘What is wrong with people? Haven’t they heard a dog is not for Christmas?’
‘Too expensive for life.’ Eva shrugs again, hauling Doodle up by the collar as the doorbell rings.
‘Owner here now.’
‘Now? Oh Doodle!’ Crouching in front of him, I wrap my arms around his neck as tears spring to my eyes. Who knew I’d get attached to such a silly panda? ‘Eva, please can we rent him for Christmas?’ And what about my column? I spend half of my life telling my followers to be their authentic selves, yet I’m about to lose exactly half of Daisy and Doodle, London’s newest problem-solving duo. Who wants Watson without Sherlock Bones? I come to the door to scowl at the owner. From her suit and brusque manner, I can tell she’s busy, successful and professional. Everything I’m not. And she probably gives him better bones.
Chapter 17
I hadn’t realised how much I’d miss that dog’s stinking breath. By Wednesday night, I’m tossing and turning so much I consider climbing into the sofa bed next to Eva, until I hear her loudly whistling in her sleep. Then I start to panic she will leave me too. Funny how I’ve got used to having them both around. I broach the subject over breakfast, where she enjoys her healthy salad and salted cheese while I heap butter onto my toast.
‘Flatmates filled room. Nowhere to go. Sort something soon,’ she reassures me.
‘Actually, I like having you here. Losing Doodle was bad enough, I’d hate to end the litter bin Olympics sessions or our wine and takeout nights. And I’m also not gaining clients in the way I’d hoped so if you could pay me some rent it would help my cash flow. Nothing too expensive as I know you’re basically sleeping on my sofa, and I don’t want to deprive your family of the cash you send home.’
She quickly agrees before nudging me about working with Kai.
I sigh. ‘I’m not an interior design consultant. And I don’t know anything about hotels apart from how to clean a bedroom and programme a room key.’
‘Don’t know how to be happy but take on clients anyway?’ She raises her eyebrows to let her comment sink in. She grabs her fake Gucci handbag from the floordrobe, and makes for the front door. Still in my PJs, I’m thankful I don’t have to go out to work at this ungodly hour. ‘Want to have a girls’ night tonight or tomorrow? Chill out together with a takeaway?’ The door bangs closed without a reply to my question.
As I don’t have a dog anymore there’s no point in going for a walk, and watching TV is a lonely business without Doodle. When the doorbell sounds I turn up the volume, deciding the Amazon guy can deliver parcels for the upstairs flats elsewhere today. When there’s a knock on the window I sigh, until I see a familiar face peering through the security grates.
In a panic I check my PJs aren’t letting it all hang out. On the contrary, my top comprehensively covers all flesh, and I’m acutely aware Joe might not find the bunny on my chest as beguiling as I did in the ASDA leisurewear aisle.
‘Hi, is everything OK?’ I ask him, easing my front door open a few inches and peeking around it.
‘I’m fine although it was a busy shift. We arranged to meet today but didn’t sort out a time or place. Eva stopped to chat on her way in to work and told me you lost Doodle. Thought I’d drop by in case you aren’t up to leaving the house.’
Did we arrange to meet today? All the drama with Doodle must be affecting me more than I realised. ‘I’m fine until I remember wrestling him off babies or picking up old ladies after he’s bowled them down. And then I feel all nostalgic. I thought you had to hare off to a market after you finish with us on a Thursday.’ I kick myself at the bunny talk which can only reinforce the ridiculousness of my pyjamas.
I invite Joe in, and he follows me through to the kitchen, chatting in his relaxed, friendly way. ‘My regular gigs are on hold while I provide the refreshments for a pop-up ice-skating rink in Wembley. But they’ve had a disaster installing it. I’ve used my free time over the last few days experimenting with pizza toppings.’
‘Thank God for the Goodfella that invented the ham and pineapple combo.’
‘Watch your language please.’
I laugh. ‘I knew you’d be a purist. Please excuse the mess. The dog’s gone but he left his animal energy, stray hair, and probably a doggy-do under the sofa if the smell is anything to go by. Coffee?’
