style="font-size:15px;"> ‘I’ve told you I’m not going. Why isn’t anyone taking me seriously?’
‘I suppose you could work from New York too. At least then you’d be rid of old twatty-pants Dominic.’
‘Are you listening to me?’
‘And the Sporting Lucas. I suppose you can take him with you?’
‘Matthew!’
He let out a deep sigh. ‘Ellie, beautiful, gorgeous Ellie, platonic love of my life.’ He sighed again. ‘When you repeatedly say you’re not doing something, usually it means you are.’
I paced around the hallway, ready to shout down the phone at Matthew that no matter what anyone said, I had no intention of moving to America, ever, when I noticed Victoria peering through the front window.
I attempted to ‘sign’ to her that I was on the phone, an act that I immediately realised could be no more explanatory than my actually holding a real phone to my ear.
She ignored me and started thudding on the door, by which point, Matthew had begun humming Frank Sinatra.
‘Bm ber der der der, start spreading the news,’ he sang, ‘Ellie’s leaving today. She wants to be a part of it…’
I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone.
Victoria bustled in, the moment I opened the door. Her arms were laden with Rupert-related paraphernalia.
‘Morning,’ she said. ‘I forgot a few things.’ She placed the items down onto a large pile in front of me, then smoothed down her ponytail. ‘There’s the mattress for Rupert’s bed.’ She pointed at a thick circular cushion. ‘It’s made from coconut fibres so it’s more breathable. Here’s the pamphlet,’ she said, reaching into her pocket and handing it to me. ‘It’s been clinically proven to reduce the incidence of Sudden Puppy Death Syndrome.’
I glanced at it and scratched my head.
She continued, plucking something else from the pile. ‘This is his heartbeat cushion Olga found at Pets Are Our World. Apparently it settles him…’ she pointed at something else ‘… along with his pheromone spray and plug-in. There’s his brush, made from natural fibres…’ she continued pointing ‘… his puppy shampoo—don’t over-wash him, he’s sensitive—toothbrush, toothpaste.’ She turned to me. ‘Dental hygiene is paramount to prevent future decay.’ She turned back to the pile. ‘There’s one week’s food. He’s on Paula’s Kitchen Puppy meals. They’re grain-free, from ethically sourced meat, with no fillers, and also with added bergamot and dandelion for his liver and kidney. And there are some special grain-free treats in this bag.’ Rupert jumped up, sniffing the packet and wagging his tail. She handed him one. Then reached in her other pocket and continued. ‘I’ve printed off a list of human foods he must not have, under any circumstance, and also a list of garden plants that are poisonous to dogs. It’s best to remove them from your garden just in case.’ She glanced through the kitchen to the back door. ‘Chances are you’ve got some of everything in that overgrown mass back there.’ Then she handed me a bundle of papers. ‘Here’s his pedigree certificate and passport application forms. He can’t go abroad until he’s had his rabies vaccine. His vet’s number is on the back…’ she pointed out where ‘…just below the grooming salon. Also he has a few sessions with his nutritionalist plus a month’s worth of canine psychology sessions to help him adjust to his new home.’ She looked down at Rupert, then back at me. ‘And just in case,’ she added, her expression cooling, ‘here’s the number of a dog therapist in New York.’ She looked me in the eye. ‘If you were to go, it would be immensely traumatic for him and he would need extensive emotional support to adapt to such a change.’
‘But I’m not going,’ I said.
She took a deep breath and looked at me. ‘You’ll take care of him, won’t you, Ellie?’
I nodded, bending down to pick him up. Victoria leaned in to stroke him.
Rupert wriggled, then jumped up into her arms.
Either he’d already been Stockholmed, or, I began to wonder, perhaps Victoria had been kinder to him than she’d let on.
‘So,’ she said, peeling him off her and placing him on the floor. ‘Everything all right with you and Nick?’
I nodded, distracted by Rupert arching his back on my carpet.
Victoria squinted her eyes. ‘Right, OK,’ she said, before giving Rupert one final pat on the head. She shut the door quickly before he was able to follow her out.
Moments later, I caught sight of her running back up the front path. She posted a large envelope through my letterbox. Inside were multiple newspaper and magazine clippings highlighting various shocking facts about the US, including but not exclusive to terrorism threats, obesity crisis, gun crime, poor social welfare and the number of unresolved puppy abductions in New York City.
I stuffed the clippings back into the envelope and left it on the side, then took Rupert, along with the list of poisonous plants into our garden. I’d decided to stay home with him that day to settle him in and show him around.
I pushed open the old French doors and stepped out onto the patio, trying to recall the last time I had actually ventured into the mass of weeds and tangled shrubbery that was our ten-metres-square London garden. It must have been over a year ago when we’d just moved in. I placed Rupert down by my feet and watched him explore. To little Rupert, faced with dense foliage over twice his height, it must have seemed like a jungle. He stepped tentatively forward, then a crow squawked and he ran back between my legs. Moments later, he tried again, this time venturing a little further.
Just as I’d spotted a potentially toxic-looking weed, my phone rang again. It was Mandi.
‘Ellie, where are you?’
Rupert bounded back between my legs. I shifted him away from the plant. ‘At home,’ I said.
Mandi paused for a moment as though she didn’t quite know what to do with that information. ‘Doing what?’
I bent down and tugged at the roots. ‘Weeding.’
Mandi paused again. I imagined her twitching her nose. ‘You need to come in.’
I threw the weed onto the patio. Rupert sniffed it then ran back between my legs. ‘Can’t it wait?’ I said.
‘No,’ she replied, more sternly than Mandi usually spoke. ‘It’s important.’
When I arrived at the office, having transported an increasingly perplexed Rupert in his Louis Vuitton dog carry case, Mandi jumped out at me. She was wearing what looked like an Aztec-patterned tepee with a coordinated neck scarf.
‘Ellie, you’re late,’ she said. ‘Into the meeting room quickly.’ Then she stopped, turned and peered into the carry case. She held her hands to her chest and made a high-pitched squealing noise.
‘Aw,’ she said, ‘a puppy! I absolutely love puppies. Did I tell you how much I love puppies? And kittens, of course. I love kittens. But not as much as puppies. Puppies I simply adore. He is just too cute. Can I cuddle him? Please can I?’ She peered in closer. ‘What’s your name, little fellow?’
Rupert
