I decide it’s best to gloss over that one. ‘You want to stay at mine? With a dog?’
‘Until Doodle return to owner.’
‘When’s that?’
‘When annoying woman return call and take back.’ My bag falls open, revealing the shard of glass I took off the wall at the end of my shift. I need to catch a glimmer of moonlight in it to fully purge the bad luck. If there’s a decent moon tonight, I’ll stick it in the garden. Eva fills the silence. ‘I come now, yes?’
‘I’m not sure about the dog. Come over in a couple of hours. We can talk about it.’
‘I bring earplugs for snore.’
‘I don’t snore.’
‘How you know if no mamma or boyfriend to tell you?’ I search for a snoring app to check my overnight volume while she advises me to kiss and make up with the boss.
‘Actually, Eva, I think I’m done with the hotel. Today just confirmed things for me. I want to be a full-time happiness guru.’
‘For real?’ I’m half expecting her to laugh, but her reply is serious. ‘It is good to think outside of the boxes. But Daisy need to make happiness for herself before others.’
‘I’m happy enough. Most of the time,’ I mumble.
‘I do not think so.’ There’s a short silence before she chips in again. ‘Doodle sleep with Eva on sofa. Will bring food and toys.’
She leaves me staring at my phone, wondering if I accidentally said yes to the dog and hoping she doesn’t mean the thumbs-up sex toys she imported in bulk from Taiwan.
Chapter 5
Eva turns up with two collapsible bags filled to the brim and a furry tornado. The dog’s ears flap as he turns three-sixty, before tugging at my laces. ‘Beardoodle family friendly and very loving. I think Doodle love you already,’ she announces. She’s not wrong about his affection– he licks every inch of my hand and then attempts to lap at my knees through my clothes.
‘Doodle the Beardoodle. Really?’
‘Cross between bearded collie and poodle. Also cross between giant nuisance and massive pain in backside. Do not panic at accessory,’ she says, unloading a circular bed, multiple tins of food and a raft of toys from one of the cases. ‘Intelligent dog, get bored in unstimulating house. Need to keep busy.’
I glance at the white walls. Billed as a ‘garden pied-à-terre in vibrant Shepherd’s Bush’, my flat is basically a long white corridor with three small rooms off it and a tiny patch of grass accessed by French windows. I access the garden via French doors that I cover with a metal grate to deter burglars. As it began life as the cellar of a huge Victorian house there’s little natural light, and the front door expands and sticks when it rains. Painting ittoothpaste whitefailed to give it a feeling of space and it’s too hot in summer and too cold in winter. The only upside is the flat was cheap and has possibly doubled in value. I bought it when I was eighteen. Up until then I lived with my dad in name but pretty much brought myself up when he opted out of looking after me in the latter years. He took off for weeks, recording sessions with musicians on the cusp of greatness leaving me to disappear into my schoolbooks and the internet. Isolated and lonely, I lapped up facts, ate beans on toast and tried not to get noticed by teachers in case someone dug into our home life. By the time I took, and aced, my GCSEs, he was almost continually touring with bands who almost made it big but didn’t. Occasionally, he moved in with a groupie, but he always came back eventually. On my eighteenth birthday he handed me the letter from my mum that changed my life. When I took my psychology degree, with the aim of working as a family counsellor, one of my motives was to understand parents like him and how they rolled.
Eva makes herself at home in my kitchen, filling Doodle’s bowl with water and tipping the contents of a tin of value dog food onto a plate. When it spills on the white tiles I hold myself back from commenting. As he slurps and chomps, she pulls her phone out and speaks aggressively into the handset. ‘This is message for Lily-Loo, owner of Doodle Beardoodle. Try again to give back pet. If no contact by end of weekend, apply late fee. At end of month, sell dog to puppy trafficker.’ Ringing off, she tells me about a new website she’s developed, connecting dog owners with people who’d like an occasional pet without the long-term commitment or expense. ‘Rent My Dog site doing well. Four animal out this week. But not all owner care for dog like you or me. I visit every day to return Doodle, but woman is ghost.’
‘Why are you involved? Surely they should be dealing with each other?’
‘Client try to deliver back but no one at home.’
‘She’s probably gone on holiday and is using you as a free dog sitter. You need to change the Ts and Cs or you’ll be like a middleman from Bumble mediating a date that’s going south …’ I tail off, noticing one of my stilettos has been mauled and left under the breakfast table. I’m not surprised she didn’t want him back if he did that to her shoes. Changing the subject before I get cross, I brief Eva on the basics of the flat, telling her I’ll make up the sofa bed for her. ‘Feel free to have a bath or shower while I sort that out. I’ll just brush my teeth.’
Reaching for my toothbrush, I notice Doodle has followed me into the bathroom. When I’m done, I lead him into the kitchen and put him in front of his bowl, but he’s not interested in the contents. After grabbing sheets I’ve aired for the sofa bed, I walk into the living room with the dog at my heels. ‘Oh no, you’re not sleeping in here. Your bed is in the kitchen.’ He immediately ambles over and licks my hand. ‘OK then, stay there while I make up the sofa,’ I say, prompting him to wander off. And when I’ve finished in the living room I find him outside the bathroom door on sentry duty. ‘Honestly you are worse than a toddler.’
When Eva emerges an hour later, wrapped in my best fluffy dressing gown, I make a mental note to hide my toothbrush. She trails the cord down the hall as she marches to the front door. Flinging it open, she hauls a large plant pot across the welcome mat. Pitching up behind her and shivering in the draught, I spot more greenery. ‘Blimey, I thought you came in a cab?’
‘Ten-seat Uber. Travel everywhere with plant.’
‘Why?’
She shrugs as though it’s perfectly obvious. ‘To put down roots.’
After a fitful night’s sleep due to stereo snoring from the lounge, I run a bath, tipping a quarter of a bottle of bubble bath into the scalding hot water. Then I put the kettle on, collect the milk from the front door and pop my head around the door of my living room. At the bottom of the sofa bed a hump starts to wriggle. Two shaggy ears precede a curious nose as a monster emerges from the deep, leaps onto the wood floor and skittles towards me.
‘Your bed is in the kitchen,’ I hiss. Doodle is in need of serious grooming– his owner should get someone to tackle the bushy eyebrows and straggly beard before they take over his face. And as for the state of those claws! But he doesn’t care about his appearance or mine. Barking out a good morning, he licks every available bit of my skin.
‘It’s not a good morning as there’s no decent coffee on a Saturday. And you need to be quiet, you bearded menace, or you’ll wake the lodger.’ Taking my Ted Talk as an invitation to hug, he rears up, landing his front paws on the top of my thighs. ‘Stop it,’ I hiss, tapping him on the nose. ‘I already have untreated Post Turkey Stress Disorder, and this is not helping.’
