“Oh, that sounds interesting.” She hadn’t expected this sort of creative and unusual response. “What sort of songs do you write?”
“Contemporary pop music mostly, although lately I’ve worked on some film scores, too.”
“Wow.” Grace was impressed. “Anything I might have heard of?”
She listened as he rattled off some recent releases from several big name pop stars.
“You wrote those songs?” she said, even more impressed.
“Co-wrote them. I collaborate with several people, a team of musicians and lyricists, depending on the artist we’re writing for and the mood and vibe we want to achieve. Same with the film scores. I’m new to that particular type of composition, and I’m only a contributor at the moment, with a lead composer taking charge of the direction we’re going in.”
“You must enjoy it? It sounds like fascinating work.”
“I’m very lucky.” Ryan gave her a smile, then said, “What about you? What do you do?”
Grace explained about her assistant manager role at the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel, to which Ryan responded with raised eyebrows.
“That’s quite a place. I’ve been there once or twice to meet clients or colleagues who were in the area and wanted to discuss projects over drinks. It’s beautiful there.”
“It is. And it takes a big team to keep it that way and make sure everything runs smoothly. There’s always something new to learn.”
“Same with me. There’s no standing still in the music business. New technologies, changing tastes and styles, evolving market demands… nothing stays the same.”
Ryan had an easy way about him as he spoke. Chatting with him felt comfortable and relaxed, and Grace was enjoying it.
“When we bumped into each other yesterday, you said you were going out to the cinema,” Grace said. “Was the film you saw any good?”
“It wasn’t too bad,” Ryan laughed, and named the film.
Grace hadn’t heard of it. She didn’t have time for trips to the cinema.
“My grandma was the one who wanted to see it,” Ryan added. “And although big noisy action films aren’t really my thing, I was happy to go along and keep her company.”
“That’s a nice thing to do, taking your grandma to the cinema,” Grace said, oddly touched by the idea. “You must be close?”
“We are. She’s had some tough health challenges lately and…” His voice trailed off, the warmth and humour in his tone replaced by something more troubled. “Well, she deserves to have some fun. If her idea of fun is watching a middle-aged has-been action hero glowering and grimacing while racing around and fighting to save the world from total destruction, then who am I to argue?”
Grace smiled, happy that his lighter tone had returned. She wondered what was wrong with his grandmother and the challenges he said she’d faced.
“Is your grandmother better now?”
The expression that crossed his face was a mixture of hope and fear. “We think so. Fingers crossed.”
Grace would have asked further after his grandmother’s health, because it was obvious even from their brief conversation that the woman was very special to him, but they’d reached the road where the vet’s practice was located. Turning into the small car park, Grace found a free space and switched off the engine.
Grace followed Ryan into the vet’s surgery, which was located in a neat and well-kept building set back from the road and framed by mature trees on either side. The moment they stepped into the reception area, Stanley froze. His eyes darted towards the waiting area where dogs sat with their owners, some animals looking more anxious than others. A separate waiting area on the other side of the reception space was dedicated to cats, a number of whom peered out of their carriers in disgust at the dogs sitting across the room.
“Come on then, Stanley,” Ryan said to the dog, tugging gently on the lead. “Nothing bad will happen here, I promise.”
Stanley didn’t look convinced, and it took a few more tugs on his lead before he reluctantly followed Grace and Ryan to the reception counter. The cheerful receptionist behind the desk smiled in greeting.
“Hello, there,” she said. “How can I help?”
“We found this little dog yesterday, wandering on the street where I live,” Grace explained. “We think he’s a stray.”
“Oh dear, that’s a shame,” said the receptionist, peering over the reception counter to where Stanley was darting around on the floor, looking unhappy.
“He didn’t have a collar and there was no one around who seemed to be looking for him,” Grace went on. “I wasn’t sure what to do, and it was a bit late in the evening, so I looked after him last night. My friend here,”—she gestured to Ryan—“said weshould probably take him to a vet to see if he could be scanned for a microchip that might tell us who his owners are.”
