style="font-size:15px;"> He was walking backwards, forcing her to move with him as the leads were still wrapped round her hand, and as he did so, the dogs, resisting at first, realized the game was up and turned away from their conquest. Disco bounded up to Cat’s rescuer and put her paws on his jeans. He let go of the leads and lifted Disco into his arms, just as his collie dog, tongue lolling, trotted up and sat at his feet.
Cat felt her annoyance rise. His dog didn’t try and antagonize Bertha or the Westies who, tired out by their chase, gave the new dog a cursory sniff and settled down on the grass. Here, they were sheltered by the trees, the rain still falling beyond their natural canopy.
‘What are you?’ Cat asked. ‘Some kind of dog whisperer?’
He laughed, and while Disco struggled in his arms, Cat had the opportunity to look at him up close. His black-brown hair was expertly dishevelled, just asking to be ruffled, and his leather jacket – the same one as before – was worn at the elbows. He had the beginnings of stubble and there was amusement in his dark eyes. Was that amusement aimed at her? She was sure he’d been watching her before, and now here he was again, stepping in to help her.
Her irritation was swiftly replaced by curiosity.
‘I’m Cat,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Thank you for…for that, back there. With the squirrel.’
‘No problem.’ He smiled at her and took her hand. ‘I’m Mark. And this –’ he nodded towards the collie – ‘is Chips. We’re new to the area.’
‘Chips?’
‘After Chips in Dawn of the Dead. The remake, obviously.’
‘You named your dog after a zombie? That’s not very kind. How long have you been in Fairview?’
Mark blinked at her and ran a hand over his jawline. It was quite pointy, quite determined, Cat thought, if jaws can be determined. ‘A few weeks. You’ve not seen it, then, Dawn of the Dead?’
Cat shook her head.
‘Chips is the dog, unsurprisingly, rather than a zombie. She’s a hero – she saves the main characters from certain death. I’m splitting my time between here and London – it’s lovely round here, very…peaceful.’
‘Are you training your dog to survive a zombie apocalypse? What happens to her when you’re in London?’
‘Chips wouldn’t need training, she’d know exactly what to do.’ He grinned at her with white, even teeth.
Cat decided his jawline wasn’t determined, it was smug, but he was a potential punter all the same. This was too good an opportunity to miss. ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said. ‘I could always look after Chips for you when you’re back in London – feed her, take her for walks.’
‘That’s a very kind – and unexpected – offer. She’s fine with me – she can cope on her own for a few hours if I’m working. Do you always go around offering to look after strangers’ pets, or am I special?’
‘Oh, oh, no, I mean…’ Cat felt heat rush to her cheeks. ‘It’s what I do. I wasn’t just…offering.’ She shrugged.
‘Ah.’ Mark nodded. ‘So all these dogs aren’t yours, then?’ Disco was burrowing into the crook of his arm, her stumpy tail wagging as if her life depended on it.
‘No,’ Cat said. ‘I’m walking them.’
‘Sure it’s that way round?’
Cat gritted her teeth and gave him a tight smile. ‘This is just…I’m still working out the best combinations, the easiest way to run things. Big dogs and little dogs together are a bit of a handful.’
‘They are,’ he agreed. ‘I’m not sure Primrose Park knows what’s hit it. And who’s this little guy? Come out, buster.’ He lifted Disco up, and the puppy started licking his chin. ‘Hey.’ Mark laughed and put her on the ground.
‘She’s a girl. Disco,’ Cat said. Something flashed in her mind, making her do a double-take. She looked at Mark, but he was intent on the puppy and all the love she had to give. ‘And Chalky’s the older mini schnauzer and the Westies are Valentino, Coco and Dior. That’s Bertha.’ She pointed at the largest dog, who was staring out across the park, looking noble.
Mark pressed his lips together and looked at the ground.
‘I didn’t name them. God, I wish I’d never said anything now.’
‘It’s an impressive outing,’ Mark nodded, unable to hide his smirk. ‘And you’ve done well, considering.’
‘Considering?’ Cat shot back.
‘Considering how unruly they are.’
‘Well, I’m glad I’ve met with your approval.’
‘I’m very happy to give it.’ He was entirely unruffled, which had the opposite effect on Cat.
‘Are you always like this?’
‘Like what?’
‘Incredibly patronizing.’
‘I wasn’t aware that I was being. I saw you were struggling, came over to help, and—’
‘Yes, thanks for that, I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine now that squirrelgate’s over. Nice meeting you.’ She tried to walk coolly off, but Disco was intent on spending more time with her new friend, and Valentino had managed to get his lead wrapped round Bertha’s, so her aloof departure didn’t happen. Mark bent down to untangle the leads. ‘Thanks,’ she said shortly. ‘Again.’
‘No problem…again.’ She could hear the amusement in his voice.
Cat turned in the direction of the park gate. Within moments Bertha was once again in front, and Cat’s sore hand stung in the wind. The rain was coming down harder now, running in rivulets off her jacket, her short hair plastered to her forehead. She risked a glance behind her, and saw that Mark was still watching her, Chips sitting at his feet, the tennis ball in her mouth. He was attaching a lead to her collar, but raised a hand when she turned. Cat looked quickly ahead and tripped over Disco, only just managing to catch her balance and prevent herself falling, sprawling, into the middle of her pack of pets.
Cheeks burning, she picked up her pace. She had to admit that, despite her best efforts, her first proper outing as a dog walker had not gone smoothly. Still, she would learn from her mistakes, and next time she strolled into Fairview Park she’d be completely in control, as serene as a swan, even if the bloody squirrel made another appearance. She was torn between never wanting to see smug Mark and Chips again, and hoping that he’d be there to see her moment of triumph.
‘I’ll show them,’ she said to her suddenly well-behaved pooches. ‘I’ll show them just how effective I can be with my dogs. Fairview Park won’t know what’s hit it. I mean,’ she said to Bertha, who was padding alongside her, her short golden coat rubbing against Cat’s leg as they walked, ‘he acts all smug but he doesn’t even know what the park’s called. It’s not Primrose Pa—’ She stopped, the spark she’d felt earlier exploding into clarity. ‘Oh!
