He walked away, and Marcus was left open-mouthed, staring after him.
HOW HE GOT THROUGHthe day, Marcus had no idea. But he held it together with a bright smile and his usual jokey banter.
Christine came into the parlour halfway through the afternoon, her cheerful demeanour a balm, soothing his overwrought nerves. Being on his own the entire day, his mind had been left to run riot, and self-doubt had been gnawing away at him.
‘Oh my goodness, Marcus. It doesn’t normally smell of wet dog in here, but today is the first time I’ve smelt it.’
Marcus looked over his shoulder at an overflowing basket of wet towels. Normally, Georgina would have washed, dried, folded and stacked the morning towels neatly back on the shelves by now. Marcus didn’t realise how much he relied on her for duties like that.
‘I’ve not had time today, Christine... I’ve not even had time to make a drink.’
‘Oh dear.’ Christine looked from left to right. ‘Where’s Georgina?’
‘She’s not feeling well today.’
‘Oh no. I’ll let Tom know. He’s got a day off today, so he can call in on her. I’ll tell you what, I’ll put those towels in the washing machine for you, and then I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Next time you’re in a predicament like this, please let me know, so I can help you in between my own clients.’
Marcus nodded with a grateful smile. His first year in Seagull Bay was still not yet complete, and he was still getting used to how much the community rallied around, helping each other out.
He decided there and then, he’d post on the localWhatsAppgroup that evening, about the meeting he intended to hold about gathering ideas for the dog competition, and what better place to meet than the first venue the dog competition had been held at—The Cheese Wedge and Pickles.
Chapter four
After checking in with Georgina last night, Georgina had reluctantly confirmed to Marcus she was still feeling too poorly to come in to work, that meant today was going to be a rinse and repeat of yesterday.
Looking down at his chosen outfit for the day, Marcus realised he’d subconsciously put on his best casual shirt and slacks, and not his usual work attire. Did the reason have something to do with his early morning meeting with Rowan? He knew the answer, yet he was still reluctant to admit it.
Marcus stepped out of his cottage and paused on the quiet lane, letting the morning settle around him. It was still early, too early for his neighbours to begin their day. But before the madness of another day could begin, Marcus wanted time to appreciate the quietness surrounding him.
From this height above Seagull Bay, the whole coastline unfurled in a sweep of colour—the sea shifting between slate blue and soft turquoise, the rooftops below catching the first hints of gold. A salty breeze curled up the hill, carrying the tang of seaweed and the faint sweetness of someone’s early-morning baking. Closing his eyes, he let another sense take over. Gulls wheeled and cried above the water, their calls echoing against the cliffs, and the rhythmic hush of waves drifted up to him like a familiar greeting. Opening his eyes again, he simply stood there, breathing it all in, grateful for the view he’d taken for granted far too often.
The seagulls were on peak this morning, their shrill squawks heard way before Marcus had even reached the end of his road, their cries travelling with him all the way down to the beachfront.
There, in exactly the same spot as yesterday, the same position, awaited Rowan and Atlas.
When he was within feet of them, Marcus offered a toothy grin. ‘Déjà vu,’ he said quietly, not wanting to spook Atlas.
‘Huh?’
‘Us being here again today,’ he shrugged, suddenly feeling a little foolish by his comment. Rowan made himfeela little too much. He was suddenly self-conscious.Was he too much? ‘Anyway, good morning, he beamed, before turning his attention to Atlas. Going down to Atlas’s level, he slowly reached out the back of his hand, offering it to Atlas.
Atlas was in his usual stance, his front legs wide, large body stiff, his senses on high alert. He regarded Marcus’s hand for a long moment, before taking a step forward, bringing his snout within a few inches of Marcus’s hand, barely making an effort to smell him, because his eyes were everywhere but in the moment.
Rowan watched Atlas intently. ‘I’m not sure what to make of that. He did better the first time he sniffed your scent.’
Marcus dipped his head towards Ben, who was placing the fish he’d purchased from the fisherman onto the ice in his cart. ‘I think it’s because he’s got one eye on Ben, and the other on the flock of gulls Ben’s trying to ward off.’
Rowan followed Marcus’s eyes. ‘Hmm, maybe. Although we’ve already been here for ten minutes now.’
‘Are you trying to point out I’m late?’ laughed Marcus, trying to bring a smile to Rowan’s mouth, something he was yet to witness.
‘No. Merely that Atlas hasn’t been bothered by them as yet.’
Marcus looked at Atlas’s stance. Was he missing something? Or was Rowan’s way of reading canine’s body language different to his? Rowan was the animal behaviourist after all, and not him.
The conversation seemed stilted, and not at all how Marcus had envisioned. He really wanted to make a good impression, but so far he was going down in flames. He gestured towards the steps leading down onto the beach. ‘Shall we? The part of the beach I was contemplating using for the competition is just a couple of minutes away.’
