5
Grace wokethe following morning to discover she wasn’t alone in bed.
A scruffy, furry face looked back at her from the pillow opposite. At some point during the night, Stanley had made himself comfortable on the other side of the double bed.
When he’d followed her upstairs last night, Grace hadn’t had the heart to send him back down to the living room to sleep alone. The dog had remained tucked up at her feet all evening while she worked, seeming to take comfort from being close to her, and she saw no harm in allowing him to sleep in her bedroom. It would only be for one night, after all, because she was sure she’d find his owner once he’d had his microchip scanned.
Stanley had sniffed around the bedroom and the smaller spare guest room before lingering in the hallway while Grace brushed her teeth in the bathroom. She’d arranged an old blanket on the floor beside her chest of drawers, and Stanley had appeared happy with the little nest she’d created for him. When she’d turned out the light, he’d been snoozing peacefully.
Now, though, he was stretched out in bed beside her, his head on the pillow and his body snuggled beneath the duvet.He panted and smiled, before scrambling closer and licking her face.
“Eww! Don’t do that, Stanley,” she told the dog, pushing him away. “Your breath is so bad I can hardly breathe.”
He panted a few more times before getting up on his feet and stretching and then jumping down off the bed. Grace saw the stray hairs he’d left behind all over on the duvet cover, as well as the evidence of dog drool on the pillow case. With an amused sigh, she made a mental note to change the bedding before she got back into bed at the end of the day.
Climbing out of bed, she followed Stanley downstairs and let him outside. The dog hurried to the lawn to do his business and then performed a perimeter check around the garden, taking a hard look at the spot near the fence where he’d traded barks with Elsa the evening before. Satisfied that there were no interlopers or canine threats that needed to be vanquished, he trotted back inside and waited beside his bowl with a look of expectation on his face.
“Coffee first, Stanley,” Grace said, filling the kettle. “If I’m expected to open another tray of that smelly dog food, not to mention facing the challenge of picking up your disgusting poo from the garden, then believe me, I’ll need my coffee first.”
With an eye on the time, Grace tackled the morning and the canine chores that came with it. On those days when her shift didn’t start until later, she would normally use the time to deal with household tasks, or squeeze in a quick jog, or some extra study. But with Stanley to attend to and take to the vet to be scanned in hopes of finding his owner, she accepted that her morning wasn’t likely to be productive.
She was glad to know she wouldn’t have to deal with the Stanley situation all by herself, and was grateful that the neighbour she’d met yesterday from Riverside Road, Ryan, had volunteered to lend a hand. The best-case scenario was thatwhen Stanley was scanned at the vet’s, his owner’s details would pop up and he’d be reunited with those he belonged to. But if there were complications, Grace was relieved that Ryan would be there to help resolve them.
Her shift at work started at eleven, and getting there on time was non-negotiable. In Grace’s life, work was her number one priority, always.
At just before nine o’clock, Grace sent a text message to Ryan, keen to get the ball rolling on returning Stanley to those who loved him. She briefly wondered if he might back out of the commitment he’d made to accompany her to the vet’s surgery, considering it wasn’t really his problem. But after exchanging hellos and confirming their plan, Ryan agreed to come to her house on Foxglove Street so they could drive together to the vet’s practice that Olive had recommended last night.
When the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, Grace had Stanley’s lead attached to his collar and was ready to go.
“Morning, Grace,” Ryan said, smiling on the doorstep before leaning down to ruffle Stanley’s ears as the little dog darted out to greet him. “Morning to you too, Stanley. It looks like you’ve had a wash since I last saw you. Good for you.”
“He needed it. I think he enjoyed it, too. It can’t have been nice putting up with all that dirt and dust in his fur.” Grace locked the door and started down the path. “Thanks for coming along with me, Ryan. I appreciate it.”
“Happy to help. If things take longer than we hope in finding out how to get Stanley back to where he belongs, then you don’t want to risk being late for work.”
“I didn’t even think to ask if you have work commitments today. I hope this isn’t putting you out?”
Ryan shook his head. “I’m taking some time off at the moment, so it’s no bother.”
They’d reached Grace’s car. She’d volunteered to do the driving, partly because it only seemed fair considering she’d roped this unsuspecting stranger into helping with the Stanley situation, and also because she couldn’t risk being stranded without a vehicle once it was time to drive to the hotel for her shift starting. Anticipating that the visit to the vet’s practice might leave her cutting things a little fine, she’d brought her bag with a change of work clothes.
When Stanley had launched himself into her arms yesterday when she first encountered him on the street, he’d covered her work shirt with his grubby hair. The dog might be nice and clean now, but she’d opted for jeans and a t-shirt this morning to avoid having to turn up at work with dog hair and drool all over the smart shirt and trousers she wore in her assistant manager’s role.
Grace was unlocking the car when it occurred to her that she had no idea what was the best way to transport Stanley inside the vehicle.
“I think I’ll have to detach the lid in the boot of the car before we put Stanley in there,” Grace said, reaching for the toggles that connected the lid flap to the hatch door.
“Don’t worry about doing that,” Ryan said. “I’ll hold him. It’s only a few minutes’ drive to the vet’s surgery, and I’m sure he’ll be fine on my lap until we get there.”
Grace watched in amusement as Ryan lifted the excitable dog into his arms and got into the front passenger seat. Once they were settled, Stanley caused no fuss and seemed happy enough peering out the window as they got moving.
As she drove along Foxglove Street, Grace suddenly realised how bizarre it was to be sitting in her car next to this man she didn’t know, this total stranger she’d only met for a few minutes last night.
It was probably too late to check he wasn’t an axe murderer. Judging by the gentle way he was holding Stanley in his arms and helping the little dog get a better view out of the window, she thought it was probably unlikely he was a deranged serial killer. Still, it couldn’t hurt to find out a few more details about him just to be on the safe side.
“So, Ryan, I think you mentioned you were taking some time off work right now,” she said. “What is it you do?”
“I’m a musician,” he replied. “Well, I’m a songwriter and composer, to be exact.”
