New Zealand Sauvignon blanc is my favourite,’ she said.
‘And—well, I was brought up to take flowers if someone invites you to dinner,’ he said.
‘Thank you. They’re beautiful,’ she said, accepting the sunflowers. ‘Come through to the kitchen and I’ll pop them in water and sort out a drink.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I should warn you that Archie’s in the kitchen. But if you’d prefer me to put him in the garden while you’re here, I will.’
* * *
Toni was clearly trying to make an effort to accommodate him, Ben thought. So maybe he needed to do the same. ‘It’s fine. Though I didn’t grow up around dogs and I don’t have a clue how to behave around them, so you’ll have to give me some pointers.’
He knew he’d done the right thing by the way she smiled at him—the real full wattage instead of the polite and more subdued version, and it lit up her eyes, too; it made his heart miss a beat.
‘Thank you. Come and say hello.’ She ushered him into the kitchen, where Archie sat in his basket, wagging his tail and clearly desperate to bounce over and greet their visitor, but at a signal from Toni he stayed exactly where he was.
‘He’s very well trained,’ Ben commented.
‘He is,’ she agreed. ‘And he’ll stay there until I tell him he can come and say hello to you. If you feel uncomfortable, just let me know. Springers are usually pretty bouncy and exuberant—and Archie is definitely springy when he gets the chance—but they’re also very kind, biddable dogs who just love to be with people.’ She looked at him. ‘If you hold your hand out to him, he’ll sniff you, and then you can stroke the top of his head. As a therapy dog, he’s used to elderly people with thin skin, and being around very young children who might be nervous or unpredictable. So he’s very, very gentle.’
‘You work with children as well?’ Ben asked, surprised.
‘I go into the school on Wednesday mornings,’ she said. ‘We’re there to help the reluctant readers, the ones who are too nervous to read out loud in front of the class. They come and read to Archie.’ She grinned. ‘The head teacher thought it was a completely bonkers idea at first, when I suggested it.’
Yup. He thought it was bonkers, too. But the passion in her eyes as she talked about her work drew him.
‘But we’ve seen the shyest and most hesitant little ones really grow in confidence since they’ve been reading to Archie. They all improved their reading ages by several months in the first six weeks alone.’ She smiled. ‘As a reward for good behaviour, two of the children get to sort out his water bowl and mat. They love doing that, so it’s a really strong motivator.’
‘Reading to dogs.’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘I had no idea that was even a thing.’
‘There are quite a few schemes with therapy dogs,’ she said. ‘Archie loves it, and so do the kids. If he falls asleep, I tell them it’s not because he’s bored—it’s like when someone reads them a bedtime story and they go all relaxed and sleepy.’
Ben was beginning to see what made Toni Butler tick. His patients and his colleagues had all sung her praises; now he could see why.
‘OK.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ll stroke him.’
‘Stay, Archie,’ she said softly.
The dog stayed where he was and let Ben stroke the top of his head. Exactly what Toni had promised: Archie was a sweet, kind, biddable dog with soft, soft fur and big, soulful amber eyes.
‘Studies show,’ she said, ‘that blood pressure goes down when someone pets a dog. And in times of stress dog-owners experience less cardiovascular reactivity.’ She looked rueful. ‘Though I’m guessing if you’re not a dog person...’
‘It’s probably still the same,’ he said.
‘Dinner is in five minutes. Would you like a glass of wine?’
‘That’d be lovely,’ he said.
Her kitchen was very neat and tidy; and there were photographs held to the door of her fridge with magnets, of herself and Archie with various groups of people, all smiling. It was clear that she led a full and happy life.
Dinner was scrumptious: salmon baked with pesto, new potatoes, asparagus, baby carrots and roasted courgettes. Karen hadn’t been keen on cooking; and Ben hadn’t bothered much since his marriage had broken up because cooking for one was so lonely. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to share a meal with someone, except when his parents and his sister had invited him over and then tried to matchmake because they wanted him to be happy again.
But this was his new beginning. He and Toni could be friends as well as colleagues. He damped down the burgeoning thought that maybe she could be more.
‘This is really lovely,’ he said.
‘And—apart from the salmon, obviously, and the pine nuts in the pesto—everything is homegrown. I love June because the garden’s just brilliant.’
‘You’re a gardener?’ He hadn’t expected that.
‘Not as good as my grandmother was. But that’s why I moved here rather than to one of the fisherman’s cottages near the harbour—it means I have a garden for Archie, and I’ve got space for a small vegetable patch. I got my brother-in-law to haul some railway sleepers for me to make raised beds.’
‘So have you been here for very long?’
‘At this cottage, for two years. But I grew up in Great Crowmell,’ she said. ‘My parents died in a car crash when I was twelve and my sister Stacey was fourteen, and Gran swept us up and brought us to live with her. Before that, we used to stay with her every summer. We’d spend whole days on the beach and thought we were in paradise. We lived in London, and that tiny bit of sand you get on the banks of the Thames every so often just wasn’t enough for us. We loved it here, where the sand went on for miles.’
‘You grew up in London?’ He looked at her in surprise.
‘In Highgate, when my parents were still alive. Then, when I trained as a nurse, I lived in Victoria and worked in the emergency department of the London Victoria hospital.’
‘So you went back to the bright lights?’
‘Something like that.’
‘So what made you come back?’ He knew the question was intrusive as soon as it was out of his mouth, because she flinched. ‘Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.’ And then maybe she wouldn’t ask him why he’d moved, either.
‘No, it’s fine. I came back because Gran became ill.’ She looked at him. ‘She had dementia. Stacey went to college here and stayed after she finished—she’s a dressmaker—but it wasn’t fair to leave all the looking-after to her, so I came back to support them both. I found a job at the practice, and I moved in with Gran so she didn’t have to go into residential care for a few more months.’ She shrugged. ‘Gran didn’t hesitate when we needed her, and we didn’t
