Rowan stepped closer, not interfering, simply observing. ‘He’s not nervous.’
‘No,’ Marcus said, wrestling gently with the lead. ‘Bertie’s problem is that he thinks everyone alive has been put on earth specifically to celebrate him.’
‘A reasonable belief,’ Rowan said.
Marcus grinned. ‘Don’t encourage him.’
Bertie’s groom was the exact opposite of Daisy’s. Where Daisy had needed stillness, Bertie needed patience, humour and the occasional tactical pause while he attempted to sit on Marcus’s foot, kiss Rowan’s sleeve, and inspect the treat jar with criminal intent.
By three o’clock, the parlour was warm, faintly damp, and filled with the comforting bustle Marcus loved when he wasn’t carrying it alone. The dryer hummed. Towels turned in the machine. Rowan’s notes formed a neat pile beside the appointment book, each one practical and precise.
Milo: dryer from a distance first. Owner to wait outside if possible. Responds to lower voice.
Daisy: corner space. Short appointments. No forced ear handling.
Bertie: high excitement. Give job before touching paws. Treat scatter works.
Marcus read them while Bertie’s owner paid.
‘These are brilliant,’ he said quietly.
Rowan shrugged. ‘They’re observations.’
‘Useful observations.’
‘That’s generally the point of observations.’
Marcus smiled down at the notes. ‘Georgina will love these.’
‘You should use them too.’
Marcus looked up. ‘I will.’
Rowan held his gaze for a second too long. ‘Good.’
The bell rang again.
Marcus turned with his customer smile already in place. A woman he recognised from two villages over, stepped inside, with a sleek little terrier tucked beneath one arm and a handbag tucked beneath the other. She was one of those customers who always looked immaculate and always managed to make Marcus feel as if there was dog hair somewhere inappropriate on his person.
‘Mrs Fenwick,’ he said. ‘Lovely to see you. And hello, Rupert.’
Rupert growled.
‘Still not a morning person, I see,’ Marcus said brightly, though it was very much afternoon.
Mrs Fenwick gave a thin smile. ‘I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a rush today, Marcus. Just a quick trim around the face and paws. Nothing too dramatic.’
‘Of course.’
She looked past him towards Rowan. ‘New assistant?’
Marcus kept his smile steady. ‘Rowan is helping me today while Georgina is off ill.’
‘How nice.’ Her gaze returned to Marcus, sweeping over his damp jeans, rolled sleeves and the strand of hair that had escaped across his forehead. ‘You do always seem to manage, don’t you? Always smiling, always joking. I don’t know how you keep up all that cheerfulness.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘I’d be exhausted pretending to be that jolly all day.’
The words landed lightly.
That was the worst part.
