Holly nodded. ‘Yes, I’m thirty-three.’
‘Thirty-three, right. So, where do you live, what do you do? George and I often wondered that.’
They chatted for half an hour before Mrs Edworthy looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I must go off home now. Stirling’ll be wondering where I’ve got to. Now, are you quite sure you’ll be able to take him? You see, I’m off tomorrow to my boy’s for Christmas. I would have taken Stirling with me otherwise. He’s such a dear, but Stephen’s house isn’t very big and they’ve got the cat, you see. When Donny told me you’d arrived, I thought that’s perfect.’
Holly was a bit bewildered. She helped Mrs Edworthy to her feet and ensured that her wheelie bag was to hand. ‘Erm, Mrs Edworthy, who’s Stirling?’
The old lady looked up in surprise. ‘Why, he’s your dad’s dog, that’s who he is.’
Stirling the dog was a large, very friendly, black Labrador. As soon as Mrs Edworthy opened the door, he came bouncing out, almost knocking the old lady over in his eagerness to greet them.
‘No, Stirling. Down boy.’ Mrs Edworthy steadied herself against the wall and turned to Holly. ‘He’s ever so friendly, but he’s a youngster, you see. Your dad only got him a year back. He’s little more than a puppy really and he’s got so much energy. I can’t take him for much in the way of walks these days, so it’s just lovely that you’ve come when you did.’ She lowered her voice uncomfortably. ‘And I can’t bend down any more to pick up his… you know, offerings.’ Holly grinned in spite of herself. ‘But you’re young and you’ll be able to take him out all right. There are lots of lovely walks around the village and for a young girl like you, you can be up on the moor in half an hour. Now, let me collect his things for you.’
As the old lady pottered about, fetching the dog’s bed, his food bowl, which inspired considerable interest on the part of the dog, and all the other bits and pieces, Holly’s mind was racing. She knew nothing at all about dogs. The only pet she had had while growing up was a fat old tabby cat, and her only contacts with dogs had been at a few friends’ houses. And she had absolutely no experience of such a big dog. True, he really did look friendly, but what, she wondered, would he be like if he decided he didn’t want to be friendly? There were a lot of teeth in that mouth.
‘Why don’t you take his bed and his bag of food over to your house now, and then you can come back for him in a minute?’ Mrs Edworthy was still producing rubber toys, tennis balls and other bits of canine bric a brac.
Holly did as instructed, all the while wondering just how on earth she was going to cope with looking after a huge great animal like Stirling. She did, however, concede that Stirling was a rather fine name, particularly for somebody like herself with an interest in classic sports cars. She dumped the stuff in the kitchen and returned for the dog. Mrs Edworthy was just dropping the last toy into a big bag. When Stirling spotted Holly, he insisted on standing up on his hind legs and making a fuss of her. As he did so, his claws scratched some serious marks across her very expensive Marc Jacobs belt, but she gritted her teeth and smiled at him. ‘Good dog, Stirling.’
Mrs Edworthy looked up with a smile. ‘You’ll love him. I’ll be sorry to lose him, to tell the truth, but it’s so much better for him to be with somebody younger and more active.’ Holly didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was no way she would be able to look after a big dog in her London flat – apart from the fact that she was at work nine or ten hours a day most days. Anyway, for the moment she just had to grin and bear it.
Before leaving with her unwanted house guest, she managed to find out how often the dog needed to eat, how much and what his meals consisted of, as well as how often he needed to do what Mrs Edworthy euphemistically described as ‘his business’. At last she ran out of questions so she headed for the door. She hesitated, her hand on the door handle.
‘What about a lead? Do I need to put him on a lead?’
‘Oh, dearie me, his lead. I’d clean forgotten. Here it is.’ Mrs Edworthy unhooked a piece of rope from the back of the door and handed it to Holly. The effect upon the dog was electric. He gave a strangled whine of delight and jumped up against Holly, sending her crashing backwards into the door. Mrs Edworthy looked on sympathetically. ‘He gets very excited when he knows he’s going for a walk. Now, you only need to put him on the lead when you’re on the road. Otherwise, just let him run around. Your dad trained him well and he’ll always come back to you. And, best of all, he doesn’t chase sheep.’
Whether or not the dog chased sheep was the least of Holly’s problems at the moment. First, she had to work out the basics of cohabitation with him. She reflected that Stirling would be the very first male with whom she had ever cohabited. In fact, she had studiously avoided any serious relationships up till now, preferring her independence. Now the arrival of seventy pounds of not very sweet-smelling bone and muscle promised to be a serious challenge. But, anyway, for now the die was cast, and she had to make the best of it.
She clipped the rope lead to the dog’s collar, said goodbye to Mrs Edworthy, turned the door handle and then found herself propelled along the road so fast, she almost fell on her face. This time she had chosen more sensible shoes, although they were Kurt Geiger and hadn’t been cheap, and she heard an ominous scratching sound as the dog tugged her past a bush; ironically, a holly bush. Fortunately, seconds later, Stirling screeched to a halt and cocked his leg against a tree in long, leisurely fashion and Holly had time to collect herself, take a firmer grip on the lead and then march him along to Brook Cottage. As her first experience of dog walking, it was not auspicious.
It was immediately apparent that he knew his way around the house and that he instantly recognised it as his home. He set off on a tour of inspection, nostrils flared, that took him through every room downstairs. He hesitated before venturing upstairs, so Holly decided to try imposing a bit of discipline. As he placed a large paw on the first step, she put on her sternest voice and gave him his orders. ‘No, Stirling! Not upstairs!’ She was heartened, and surprised, to see him step back and turn away from the staircase. As her first experience of dog training, it was at least slightly more auspicious than the dog walking.
She placed his big wicker basket on the flagstones to one side of the fireplace, where she thought she could see marks on the floor made by a basket. No sooner was it down than the dog climbed into it and flopped down, his chin resting on the edge, his huge brown eyes trained on her every move. Feeling rather self-conscious, she set about emptying the bag of toys and filling his water bowl. She placed it on the floor near the back door and waved at him. ‘Water?’ He gave no sign of interest. She placed his empty food bowl beside it and that got him excited enough to sit upright but, once he had established that it was empty, he slumped back down again. She went over to the sink and washed her hands, still very apprehensive about her ability to take care of an animal that probably weighed at least half what she did.
She was just washing Mrs Edworthy’s teacup when her phone rang. It was Julia.
‘Hi, Jules, how’s things?’
‘I’m fine. Scott’s asked me to go to the opera with him tonight.’ Scott was Julia’s latest and very recent conquest. Holly had yet to meet him, but she definitely got the impression that her friend was rather keen on him.
‘The opera? That sounds exciting. What’re you going to see?’
‘La Traviata, the inside of a couple of glasses of champagne, and his bedroom ceiling hopefully. Not necessarily in that order. What about you?’
Holly proceeded to tell Julia all about her unexpected guest. If she had been expecting sympathy, she didn’t get it.
‘I knew you’d settle down with some big hunky male one of these days. Two legs, four legs, who cares?’
‘Somehow, I don’t think this particular relationship is going to stand the test of time.’
‘So what’s new, Miss Three-dates-and-you’re-out?’
‘I’m not quite