They were wearing different-coloured velvet collars dotted with sparkling stones, which Cat thought probably weren’t made out of glass. One of the dogs – was it Coco? – had his right ear bent over, as if affecting a slight vulnerability. Cat stroked the ear; the fur was unbelievably silky. They were friendly, pure white bundles of love, and Cat could feel her heart giving way.
‘They’re beautiful. How often do you walk them?’ Cat stood so she was back at eye level with Jessica.
‘Well, at least once a day, and it’s easy having Primrose Park so close by, but I do sometimes run out of time, and I’m sure they’d like more.’ Jessica’s voice was low and breathy, even though she’d only walked a few hundred yards, and Cat wondered if it was deliberate, along with her ditziness – she’d lived in the area long enough to know what the park was called – as part of a persona. ‘I’m on my own, you see,’ Jessica added, ‘and it’s hard sometimes.’
Cat nodded. ‘I know what that’s like. Is it…recent?’ She held her breath, wondering if she’d pushed it too far.
Jessica studied her dogs for a moment. ‘Quite recent. I…I’ve had a bit of a time of it, but I’m coming out the other side, emerging, slowly, from my chrysalis. Things are looking more positive, exciting almost. But I couldn’t have done it without my designer dogs. They’ve kept me sane, and they deserve the best.’
‘Well, I can definitely help with that,’ Cat said softly. ‘I’ll treat them as if they were my own. I – I’m sorry I can’t invite you in. My housemate’s working.’ She gestured towards the living room.
‘Oh, no, of course. I can’t stay long anyway, but I did want to meet you. And I wanted you to meet my boys.’ She gave an exaggerated flourish, but her smile was warm, her pale eyes meeting Cat’s easily.
‘They’re lovely. Really, really lovely. I’d be very happy to walk them as frequently as you needed – on a trial basis, and then more permanently if everything works out. I can’t see why it wouldn’t, but the trial is just so we’re all happy – you, me and your Westies.’
‘What other dogs do you have?’
‘Two mini schnauzers at the moment, but I’ve only been going…’ She stopped, thinking about Joe’s insistence that she be professional. ‘We’re a very new business, so we’re still building our client list.’
‘Sounds perfect! I love mini schnauzers.’
‘They belong to Elsie, next door.’
‘Oh, I think I’ve seen them – one’s still a puppy.’
‘That’s Disco,’ Cat said. ‘She’s a handful, but worth every bit of trouble.’
‘They all are.’ Jessica’s beautiful face broke into a grin, and Cat felt herself warming to her. ‘So, how about tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘I have to go to London, and these poor poppets will be left alone. Your tweet has come at the perfect time! Could you collect them about eleven? I’ve got a spare key.’ She pulled it out of her pocket and dangled it on an elegant finger.
‘Of course.’ Cat took the key, surprised that Jessica was so instantly trusting. ‘And they’re OK with treats?’
‘They’re smothered in treats,’ Jessica confirmed. ‘They’ll be very put out if you don’t give them any. Won’t you, darlings?’
Valentino looked up at his owner, waggled his hind legs and let out a short, loud yip.
‘Fantastic!’ Cat squealed, glancing behind her, and Jessica took a step backwards. ‘That’s brilliant. Thanks so much for coming, Jessica. I’ll pick up Valentino, Coco and Dior tomorrow.’ She grinned, hoping her words would have the desired effect. ‘We can sort out payment and a proper schedule after that.’
‘Perfect,’ Jessica said softly. ‘Lovely to meet you, Cat.’
‘And to meet all of you.’ She bent, ruffled each of the Westies behind the ears, then felt her shoulders relax as Jessica put her hood back up and opened the door. The dogs trotted happily out into the rain and Jessica turned, planted a highly perfumed kiss on Cat’s stunned cheek, and stepped into the shallow porch leaving a trail of Coco Mademoiselle behind her. She made her way carefully down the front steps, and Cat saw that she was wearing boots with four-inch heels. Cat gave the author a final wave, closed the door gently behind her, leaned against it and shut her eyes. She exhaled loudly, and felt her breath catch as the landing floorboard creaked.
She opened her eyes.
‘Joe.’
He had his arms folded, his blond brows lowered. ‘Was that dogs? In here?’
‘Joe, I’m so—’
‘You know how I feel about them, Cat. And what do you think would have happened if Shed had come in? For God’s sake, don’t you ever think? How many were there? More than one from all the snuffling and the – the smell.’ He came slowly down the stairs, and Cat could almost feel his fury growing.
‘Three,’ she said. ‘They belong to Jessica Heybourne and she – she wants me to walk them. I’m sorry they had to come in, but it was raining, and it was only for a few minutes. She’s my first proper client.’
He was one step above her, looking down, and Cat could see more than just anger in his expression. She felt her excitement shrivel, Joe’s disappointment crushing her more than she had thought it could. He nodded, and for a second Cat thought he was going to back down, to agree that yes, it had been justified, and hooray for her new client.
‘Don’t bring dogs in here,’ he said instead. ‘I don’t ask too much – I think I’m pretty reasonable – but please, please don’t bring dogs into this house. If you think that’s going to be hard because of Pooch Promenade, well then…’ He glanced away, looked back at her and then slid past her into the living room, his shoulder grazing hers.
Cat stayed where she was, feeling hurt and wronged and indignant, and pretty sure that she understood what Joe’s unfinished sentence meant: work out a way to run Pooch Promenade without bringing dogs here, or find somewhere else to live.
Cat set out early into weather that had been summoned to test her resolve, wearing a black double-breasted jacket and skinny jeans, neither of which was waterproof enough. But not even the rain could dampen her spirits. She had done it. She had got two clients besides Elsie, and she was officially walking dogs. It was the first step, but hopefully the first of many with her four-legged friends.
As she’d picked up Disco and Chalky, Elsie had given her a shoulder squeeze and a meaningful look as if she was heading into battle. Then she’d collected the three Westies. Jessica had answered the door wearing a coral dressing gown, and had been much less forthcoming than the first time they’d met, her mind on an upcoming event or her editor’s latest notes, she supposed. Cat imagined her leaning on a marble countertop, ingredients laid out around her, typing on a sleek MacBook Air as she created a delicate, exquisite dish, the dogs lying at her feet. It was an elaborate daydream, but one which Jessica