chuckled softly. ‘No doubt. I’m on a late, but you need to get to bed. You’ve had a hectic few days, you must be exhausted.’
‘I am. I tell you what, that bed had better be comfortable,’ he said wryly. ‘Did you try it?’
‘No, I didn’t have time, but if it isn’t there’s always the sofa. At least you know that’s comfy.’ She cocked her head on one side, her eyes searching his. ‘Are you all right, Ry?’
He laughed softly and nodded. ‘Yes, Beth. I’m all right. You?’
Her smile was sad. ‘I’m all right. I’m used to it now. It’s the new normal.’
He nodded, wondering how long it would take him to reach that point. He got to his feet, pulled her up and into his arms and hugged her gently.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much, for everything. You’ve been amazing, ever since I got here. You’ve always been amazing.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I’m not. I mean it. You’re the strongest person I know, Beth, and the kindest, and I don’t deserve you. Thank you.’
She hugged him back, then let him go. ‘You’re welcome. I hope you sleep well.’
He laughed. ‘I’m sure I will.’
She walked him to the door and he turned and kissed her, just the slightest brush of his lips on hers, and let himself out and drove home, then paused a moment on the drive, staring up at the stars twinkling in the clear, dark night, just as he had everywhere he’d been sent by MFA.
He loved the stars. They never changed, untouched by all the madness around him, the one constant in a changing world, and they never failed to centre him and put everything back into perspective.
How small and insignificant we are…
He let himself in, checked his email and looked at the bed—his new bed, carefully put together by Beth to save him the trouble because that was the kind of person she was—and felt another wave of guilt for leaving her alone when she’d been so sad and lost and torn with grief.
She would never have left him. He knew that, but at the time she’d been adamant that she didn’t need him. Only now it turned out she had needed him, but she’d been unable to cope with his grief, too, because they didn’t know each other well enough to grieve together.
Well enough to make a baby, but not well enough to lose one. Maybe, given time, they would find that closeness and with it some closure. He hoped so.
He looked at the bed again, but tired though he was he wasn’t ready, so he made himself a cup of chamomile tea and went out into the garden, sitting on the steps where they’d sat together only a couple of days ago, Beth’s letter to Grace echoing in his head.
Should he do the same? Write down his thoughts about his tiny daughter, the child he hadn’t known he wanted, and add them to hers? All the milestones they’d miss, the tears, the tantrums, the laughter? Her first smile, her first tooth, her first step—
He heard a noise behind him, a slight scrabbling, rustling noise. A hedgehog, probably, or a fox. They were on the edge of farmland, so it wasn’t unlikely.
And then he heard a whimper, and turned to see something creeping towards him across the grass. Something large, much bigger than a hedgehog, less shy than a fox.
A dog?
‘Hello, sweetie. What are you doing here?’ he asked softly, and it moved closer.
A dog. Definitely a dog, and not a small one, its tail wagging tentatively, black nose gleaming in the moonlight. He held out his hand, careful not to meet its eyes so it didn’t feel threatened, and the dog crept closer, flicking out its tongue to lick his fingers. He turned his hand over and scratched its chin, and it wriggled closer—close enough for him to smell it.
Dog, river mud and who knew what else.
It whined, and he stroked the tangled, scruffy head that pressed into his hand, its ears scarcely visible under the matted hair.
‘Oh, poppet. What a mess you’re in. Who are you? What are you doing here?’
It crept closer still, until it was resting up against his hip, its head heavy on his lap, and his hand slid down and felt ribs sticking out, and the bumps of its spine. It must be starving. ‘Are you hungry? Is that the matter?’
The dog got to its feet, tail wagging, and he got up and headed inside, the dog running ahead through the sitting room door to leap onto his brand new sofa.
‘Hey! No! Get off that!’
It wagged its tail, tongue lolling, still on the sofa as if it owned it, and everything fell into place.
He let out a rueful laugh. ‘You live here, don’t you? This is your house.’
The tail thumped, and he shook his head.
‘Get off my sofa. I don’t care how cute you are, you stink and you’re covered in mud. Come here, let’s find you some food and then work out what to do with you.’ He headed into the kitchen, and the dog followed, standing up on its back legs and peering at the worktop hopefully, tail lashing.
‘Dog! You have absolutely no manners! Sit!’
Paws dropped to the floor, and the dog sat and whined at him pitifully. He tried hard not to laugh, and pulled open the pantry to find the things he’d raided from his mother yesterday.
‘Right, what have we got here? Tuna. Do you like tuna? I guess you like anything. Tuna sandwich? Yup? Just don’t tell the vet.’
He drained the spring water off the tuna and mashed it between two slices of wholemeal bread, and then chopped them roughly, put them in a bowl Beth had found in the box and dumped it on the floor.
‘Well, that went down OK,’ he said with a chuckle, and shook his head slowly. ‘Dog, you need a bath, and a serious haircut. You’re the scruffiest thing I’ve ever seen.’
He put some water down in another bowl, but after a couple of slurps it gave up and came back to him, wuffing hopefully.
Still hungry. He had some ridiculously expensive peanut butter with no added anything, so he smeared a little dollop on another bit of bread and gave it to him. Her? He didn’t even know, but that was the least of his worries.
The smell, however…
He called Beth.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you. Are you still up?’
‘Yes. What’s the matter? Is the bed awful? Don’t tell me it fell to pieces—’
‘I haven’t got that far. Do you have any very mild shampoo and conditioner? And a brush you don’t care about, and a pair of scissors with blunt ends? Oh, and a hair dryer. And old towels. Lots of them.’
He heard a slightly choked noise, like a strangled laugh. ‘OK, what’s going on?’
‘You
