The older lady vanished and Grace heard movement on the other side of the fence, followed by chatter. The other dog—Elsa, she thought the older lady had called her—let out a few more yips of protest at the new dog in its midst, to which Stanley replied in kind. Seconds later, the older lady reappeared at the fence line, this time with another lady in tow.
“This is my friend Carole,” the woman said. “She just moved here to the street a few weeks ago, and I wanted to drop by to say hello and make sure she’s settling in all right. I’m Olive. I live further down the street, and was friends with the previous owner here, too.”
Ah, so that solved the mystery of the unknown neighbour. Still, Grace was a little embarrassed to discover her previous neighbour had moved out and a new one had moved in and she hadn’t even realised it.
Introductions sounded long overdue.
“I’m Grace Burton. It’s nice to meet you, Carole. And you too, Olive.”
“Hello, Grace,” Carole said. She was younger than Olive but older than Grace, maybe somewhere in her late thirties. A striking mane of glossy dark hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and her face was open and friendly as she gestured to a paint smear on her cheek. “I’m redecorating the kitchen, so please excuse how I look. I’m not as good with a paintbrush as I thought I was.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Grace laughed. “I’m sorry I haven’t dropped by to say hello yet. I didn’t even know there was someone new living next door. I feel bad.”
“There’s no need to feel bad,” Carole said. “Actually, I’ve only just fully moved in here in the last few days. It took a while to move out of my previous house, and I ended up doing it in chunks, so this place was empty more often than not. But it’s nice to be living here now.”
“Moving house is never easy,” Grace said. “I hope you’re settling in well.”
“I am now, and it’s nice to have friends pop in to say hello,” Carole said, giving Olive a smile.
“I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable and that you knew where I was if you needed any help,” Olive said, andthen turned back to Grace. “As I said, I knew the previous owner who lived here too, because we were both volunteers at the local history museum. I’d often pop in to say hello if I was passing while out walking Elsa here, who is my next-door neighbour’s dog, not mine, I should add. I just walk her while my neighbour is at work during the day, although Elsa is spending a few days with me at the moment because my neighbour is away. Anyway, when the previous owner who lived here, Stephanie, decided to move, I happened to know that the granddaughter of another friend I know was looking for a place to live, ideally somewhere near here. I know Carole’s grandmother through the tea dances I go to with my good friend Walter, you see. And so I put them in touch with each other and now Carole lives here and I’m thrilled she’s settling in so well.”
Grace blinked at this barrage of information. Despite living on Foxglove Street for a year, she had no idea this intricate network of connections and neighbourly interactions existed amongst the residents. Still, how could she know? She rarely took the time to stop and talk to anyone as she dashed to and from work.
“Anyway,” Olive said, “let’s not forget about poor Stanley. Carole, I know you’ve only just moved into this house, but as this is your end of the street rather than mine, I thought maybe you might recognise this unfortunate little dog that Grace has found wandering around outside her door.”
Carole looked carefully at the dog, but was already shaking her head. “Sorry, no. I haven’t seen him before. I’ve met my new neighbour in the other terrace next door, Tom, but he owns a cat, not a dog. The neighbours in the next terrace down from him, Amelia and Kenny, they have a dog, but it’s a Labrador, and they’re all away on holiday in Devon in their caravan just now, otherwise I’d knock on their door in case they happened to recognise this poor stray.”
As Grace listened, she felt a blush heat her cheeks. Despite only moving to the street a few days ago, Carole already knew more about the neighbours next door to her than Grace knew after a year of staying here.
“Well, I certainly don’t recognise the dog either,” Olive added. “As I’m often out and about walking Elsa, I know many of the dogs in this part of the neighbourhood, but I don’t recognise him at all. What a shame for the poor creature.”
“I bumped into a man who lives on Riverside Road at the same time as I came across Stanley,” Grace explained. “He suggested I take him to the local vet’s practice tomorrow to see if they can scan him for a microchip.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Olive said. “Go to the Whitaker practice over on Park Street. They are superb vets and very caring, too, and I’m sure they’ll know how to help. Actually, one of the vets there, Joe Whitaker, used to live right here on Foxglove Street, in a flat in one of the converted houses just over there. However, he and his girlfriend, who also lived in the same building for a short while, which is actually how they met, well, they recently moved out into a new place of their own together on the other side of Hamblehurst on Victoria Road. If he were still living on the street, I’d suggest knocking on his door and asking if he’d mind helping with an out-of-hours examination to find out if there’s a microchip in this little fella.”
Grace attempted to digest this wave of information about the local vet. How did this Olive lady know so much about the people who lived here?
“It’s not an emergency, so I wouldn’t want to bother someone in the evening when it can wait until tomorrow,” Grace said. “Stanley here seems in decent health otherwise, especially now that he’s had a bath. Although I think he might still be hungry. I’m not sure if I fed him enough when I brought him inside. I’ve never had a dog before and obviously I don’t have any properdog food in the house, so had to make do with a can of tuna flakes.”
“Well, we can soon fix that,” Olive said. “I have plenty of cartons of dog food in my house for when I’m looking after Elsa. I’ll fetch you some.”
“Oh no, I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Don’t be silly, dear, it’s no trouble. I ought to get out of Carole’s hair anyway and let her get back to painting her kitchen.”
“Thanks for dropping by, Olive,” Carole said, and gave the older lady a wry grin. “Although you’re perfectly welcome to stay and get stuck in with a paintbrush.”
“Believe me, Carole, the last thing you want is to let me loose in your house with a paintbrush,” Olive laughed. “Grace, give me ten minutes and I’ll be right back.”
The two women waved and then vanished from above the fence line and Grace heard them walking back inside the house. There was a final yip from Elsa, to which Stanley barked in reply, before the back door to Carole’s house clicked closed.
Grace looked at Stanley who was standing with his head cocked at the fence.
“They’re gone, Stanley,” she told the dog. “But if you’re lucky, that nice Olive lady will be back with some proper food for you in a few minutes.”
As if understanding every word, Stanley hurried back inside her house. Grace grinned and followed the animal into the kitchen. Stanley might have appeared like a whirlwind out of nowhere, causing quite a bit of upheaval to what should have been a quiet night spent studying, but it was hard not to resist his cheeky personality.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang, sending Stanley into a frenzy of excitement as he dashed through to the hallway, barking his little head off. Grace scooped the mad mutt up intoher arms to avoid him launching himself out through the door at their visitor.
