Trying to ignore the relentless ring of the phone, Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Sorry for being late and leaving you to sort this out, G.’
Georgina shook her head. ‘It’s okay. You didn’t know we were about to be invaded.’ Georgina held her throat as she swallowed. ‘Do you mind if I go and make a hot drink though, before the madness begins.’
Marcus’s brow drew together in concern. ‘You okay?’
‘Yes, just a bit of a sore throat. Do you want your usual?’
Marcus nodded. ‘Yes please. Shame we don’t have any brandy. I think both of us could do with a slug in our coffees this morning.’
Georgina laughed, and headed for the phone. ‘I’ll answer that first.’
Marcus fixed his most charming smile on his face and spun around, ready to do his best into talking the people without appointments to coming back another day.
GLANCING BACK AT GEORGINA, Marcus could see she was struggling with Cherry, a very young and lively Cocker Spaniel, who was refusing to keep still whilst Georgina finished grooming her.
He was in the throes of a very complicated cut of a Bichon Frise, hopefully maintaining symmetry, but Willie, who was an older dog, was particularly distracted by what was going on in Georgina’s direction, and was doing everything but keeping still.
‘Are you winning, G?’
Georgina laughed. ‘Do I get a gold medal when I do?’
Marcus couldn’t help but notice her voice sounded a little gruff. He worried he might be working her too hard. ‘I can’t promise that, but I can promise liquid gold at the pub later, for all your hard work.’
‘That sounds wonderful, but I promised to help Matt out with something at the garage this evening. Can I take a rain check?’
‘Sure,’ laughed Marcus, ‘butI’mcollecting my prize from the pub tonight.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ Georgina puffed out through her cheeks. ‘What a day. I think every dog owner in Seagull Bay must be planning to enter their pet into this year’s competition. And I know it’s very gallant of you, but with how busy we are here, I really think you have taken on a lot with organising the competition as well.’
Earlier, in between clients, Marcus had filled in Georgina about him offering to organise and run the annual dog competition. He put down the scissors, finally finished with Willie. ‘There you go, boy. He unclipped Willie’s lead, and helped him down. ‘Maybe, but Pippa needs to sit this one out, G.’
Marcus led Willie over to his owner. ‘There you go, Mrs Smith. He looks like a puppy again. Same time next month?’ Marcus handed over the lead.
Mrs Smith’s face beamed when she saw her pet. ‘Bless him. He looks like a little snow dog again. Thank you, Marcus, and yes, please.’
‘Is that your last client now, Marcus?’ asked Georgina.
‘Yes... Actually, No. I remember I booked in a German Shepherd, but forgot to write it in the appointment book. Atlas, I think the client’s name is... yes, that’s it, Atlas.’
A faint knock rapping on the front door could just be heard over the radio. ‘Strange. The open sign is still there, why don’t they just come in?’ asked Georgina.
Marcus gave Georgina a puzzled look, shrugging his shoulders, before heading for the door.
He opened it slowly, tilting his head around the door as he pulled it open. Marcus’s breath hitched in his chest when he saw a tall, sturdy built man with great posture standing there. He had dark intense eyes that seemed to bore right into him—right into his soul.
Their eyes locked until Marcus remembered himself, shaking his head slightly to break the spell he was momentarily cast under. He dropped his eyes to the large German Shepherd standing close to the man’s legs, who he noticed was unusually tense, as his body was rigid, his ears pricked up and twitching, and his tail almost ramrod straight.
‘Atlas? Marcus enquired, already knowing the answer. At the mention of his name, Atlas’s head jerked up, his body weight shifting backwards. Marcus slowly offered the back of his hand for Atlas to sniff. Atlas’s focus flicked from Marcus’s hand to the doorway, and then out to the way he and his owner had come.
‘Yes, this is Atlas.’ The man’s calm voice drew Marcus’s attention back to him. ‘As you can see, he’s not too good at the moment. He needs grooming. A bath, a brush, and his nails clipping. But... I’m having problems. He... He won’t let me do it. I’m not even sure if he’ll letyoudo it, but I’ve heard good reports about this place, so I thought... Well, Atlas needs help, and I... I... He just needs help.’
Marcus could see the man was not big on communication, he was tense, as if worried he was being judged by Marcus. Marcus would even describe him as being closed off, as if he’d put up a protective barrier, shielding himself, and maybe Atlas too, from the world.
Marcus smiled warmly. ‘Well I certainly hope I can. He’s a very handsome man.’ Marcus wasn’t sure which male in front of him he was referring to. ‘I’m Marcus, and you are?’
‘Rowan.’
Rowan made no attempt to shake hands and Marcus suspected it wasn’t from rudeness, but something to do with Atlas.
