27
STANLEY
Neither of themrealised I was listening to every word of Ryan’s story as he shared it with Grace, but of course I was listening.
How could Inotlisten? The story Ryan told was too awful to ignore and certainly impossible to sleep through. My eyes may have been closed, but my ears were not.
I tried to imagine what it must have been like to go through such a terrible humiliation in front of so many people, and I know that’s what Grace was doing too, putting herself in Ryan’s shoes in an effort to understand how badly it had affected him.
Grace’s aura turned the most melancholy shade of blue as Ryan recounted his story. Her empathy runs deep, almost as deep as the love she already feels for him inside her heart.
That night, after Ryan walked her home and they kissed each other goodnight, those blue tints remained around the edges of her aura as she got ready for bed. I know she thought about Ryan for a long time after she climbed beneath the duvet, and sleep eluded her as his story spun around inside her head.
When I snuck up onto the bed beside her, she was still awake. I thought she might send me back to my own bed, but instead she pulled me close and hugged me tight.
“I don’t know how people can be so cruel and manipulative,” Grace whispered. “Those people in charge of that television programme ought to have been strung up for what they did to an innocent eighteen-year-old boy.”
She got no argument from me on that count, which I made clear by nuzzling into her face.
“He writes such wonderful songs, Stanley,” she continued, her voice just a whisper. “I’ve listened to so many of them since he told me about the ones he’s written for some of the big pop stars, and they’re all terrific. Someone who can create songs that bring people such joy should never have had to go through what Ryan went through.”
I gave her another nuzzle to show my agreement.
“But the love songs he writes, those are really amazing,” Grace said. “And what’s even more amazing is that he’s written one for me.Me!Can you believe that?”
Of course I could believe that. This time I added a thorough lick to my nuzzling for emphasis, although I can’t say Grace cared quite as much for that.
“Okay, so he didn’t exactly say it was a love song, but I heard the music he played on his guitar, and it isdefinitelya love song. I just wish he’d let me hear the lyrics he wrote. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but I can’t help hoping that he feels the same way about me as already I feel about him, and maybe if I heard the lyrics to that song he wrote, I’d know for sure.”
I wished I could tell her she alreadydidknow for sure. Humans really make such a big complicated mess out of their emotions, never trusting what they feel and overthinking everything.
“Is it weird that I’m lying here talking to a dog?” Grace said with a quiet laugh.
Of course it wasn’t weird. Dogs make the best listeners. Everybody knows that.
Still, at least Grace’s rumination meant she was grateful for my company as she tried to get to sleep, which also meant she let me stay on the bed beside her. Naturally, I saw it as my duty to comfort her and help her nod off, and that’s what happened, eventually.
We both needed a good night’s rest after our busy day at the beach followed by the revelations Ryan had shared.
The next few days proved to be busier still.
The following morning, Ryan invited Grace and me to join him and his grandmother on another little day trip out and about. Grace tried to decline, insisting he ought to enjoy time alone with his grandmother, which she said was what the two of them were supposed to be enjoying until I’d turned up on the scene and needed looking after.
I didn’t mind being blamed. It was true, after all.
Anyway, Grace’s objections were brushed aside and off we all went in Ryan’s car, this time to visit a special bakery and café that Miriam had read about on a local tourist information website and which claimed to sell the most amazing prize-winning pies and pastries.
I’m happy to confirm theydidsell the most amazing pies and pastries, and while salivating in front of the glass cabinets filled with treats, I spied a rather grand-looking trophy perched on the shelf behind the counter, which the bakery owner proudly showed off when Miriam asked about it.
Once we were seated at a table with our goodies, I snaffled quite a few dropped crumbs from my spot on the floor, and would’ve happily stayed there all day hoovering up spillages and helping to keep the place spic-and-span, but Miriam also wantedto visit an old country house that was nearby and which was apparently the ancestral home of some duke or earl or what-have-you.
So, once we were all filled with delicious pies and pastries, off we went to the country house. It turned out that dogs weren’t allowed inside, but as Miriam was keen to have a snoop around the magnificent old place, she joined a guided tour group that was just about to start, and I went off with Grace and Ryan to enjoy the sprawling gardens.
I happen to think Miriam might have done that deliberately and chosen somewhere I wouldn’t be allowed inside in order to give Ryan and Grace more time alone. Although the guided tour was only supposed to last for an hour, Miriam decided to stay on for the optional visit to the house’s archive rooms, which added another forty-five minutes. As she’d become friendly with some of the other people on the guided tour—Miriam is such a lovely, friendly lady—she decided to join them in the café afterwards to refuel with a cup of tea.
In the end, Grace and Ryan were alone in the beautiful gardens for almost two-and-a-half hours. They walked me around the grounds, and spent time in the hedge maze, and meandered through the woodlands, before settling down on a bench beneath an oak tree with takeaway coffees that Ryan fetched from the café.
The two of them talked the entire time, sharing more of their life stories and getting to know one another better with every moment spent together. I loved being there with them as they strolled around, hand-in-hand, feeling like I was part of a little family of three.
