rescue people I want to get to know better. Sod the rest of them.’
‘OK.’ She swallowed.
‘That was a hint. Quite a big one, I thought.’
‘T-that would be lovely,’ she gushed. Why did he have the ability to turn her into a stuttering schoolgirl? Could what he had in mind be described as ‘lovely’? And she was going to be late for Jessica. God, Jessica. She couldn’t do it. ‘Look, sorry, I really need to get going.’
Mark nodded and smiled, unperturbed by her sudden change of direction. ‘Of course. Good to see you, Cat.’
‘You too.’
‘I’m already looking forward to the next time.’
She gave him a quick smile and hurried away, pulling her jacket tightly around her. And realized that he had neatly avoided answering her question about Jessica.
‘Oh, gorgeous Cat –’ Jessica flung open the door, the dogs at her feet – ‘come in for a moment. I’ve lost Dior’s lead, and he won’t wear the black one.’
Cat hadn’t been invited in before, and stepped tentatively over the threshold, wondering how clean her boots were – they were dog-walking wellies, not suited to polished wooden floors. Jessica’s wide hall was magnificent, with walls covered in a cream and pale-green floral print, and a vase of fresh daffodils and a vintage telephone sitting on a cream dresser. Pistachio-coloured rugs on the floor picked out the detail of the wallpaper.
Cat couldn’t imagine how a house with three dogs could cope with pale-green rugs but, like everything else, they looked pristine. A wooden staircase curved elegantly towards the upper reaches of the house, where skylights let in lots of sunshine. Jessica must have had the house completely remodelled when it was extended, because it looked nothing like where Cat lived.
‘I won’t be two ticks,’ Jessica said. ‘If you could truss these ones up while I find Dior’s?’ She gave Cat the leads, red and blue velvet to match the jewelled collars, and Cat crouched to attach them to Valentino and Coco, giving them each a cuddle. The dogs barked and nuzzled her, and Coco, with his floppy ear, licked her cheek. Cat knew she would never tire of this, would never get over the warmth and friendship a dog could give, and the desire to have one of her own was stronger than ever.
‘It was in the fruit bowl, can you imagine?’ Jessica returned, holding the lead up, elegant as always in a navy skirt suit and dangling silver earrings, her blonde hair swept high off her forehead. Cat could never spot a single dog hair on Jessica, and wondered if she walked through some kind of vacuum closet before she went anywhere.
When the three dogs were ready, Cat hovered in the hallway while Jessica applied coral lipstick in the mirror. ‘Is it in a library, then, your event?’
‘Oh, no, not at all.’ Jessica laughed, then cursed, blotted her lipstick and started again. ‘It’s in the Silver wine bar. Do you know it?’
Cat had walked past it, but had never gone in. She nodded. ‘I didn’t realize author events happened in wine bars, but then I suppose it makes a difference if you write about food.’
‘Oh, they happen anywhere. But I do prefer these ones, a select few fans and journalists, a bit more sophistication. Lunch – one of my favourite recipes from the latest book, goat’s cheese and tangerine salad – then questions. I should say it gets tiresome, but it never does. I lap it up, don’t I?’ She bent and gave each of her dogs a kiss on the forehead. When she stood, Cat looked for a white hair on her navy suit. Nothing.
‘Now, Cat.’ She turned and smiled, and Cat felt the full force of her glamour. ‘Three weeks from now, at the end of April, I’m having a small gathering here. Nibbles, obligatory fizz, music. It’s nice to do something as the evenings get lighter, I think, and it can get a bit…quiet in here sometimes. You’ll come?’ She thrust a shiny card into Cat’s hand. It had silver writing on a white background, a spray of blossom in the corner, inviting her to Jessica Heybourne’s spring party. A Friday night. Smart dress code.
‘Really?’ Cat’s mind was racing, thinking of all the potential clients, the introductions Jessica could give her. Would Mark be there? What would she wear?
‘Of course. And bring friends – it’s Poppy, isn’t it?’
‘Polly. And…and I also live with her brother.’ Would a party be Joe’s kind of thing, or would he hate it? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want him sitting at home while she and Polly swanned off to drink and dance with celebrities.
‘Bring them both! The more the merrier. Now, I think my car’s outside, I heard it tooting. This way, poppets.’ Jessica made go on movements with her hands, and Cat knew she was being included with the Westies, but she didn’t mind being shooed outside. Jessica’s party would be an evening of endless possibilities. And if Jessica was with Mark, then surely she’d want to show him off. Cat knew that, in her position, she wouldn’t hide him away from the world for any longer than was strictly necessary.
Fairview Park was bursting into life, but Cat could hardly see it against the grit and hair being blown into her eyes. The wind was picking up, the sun disguising how cold and blustery it still was, and after half an hour even Dior, Valentino and Coco were looking as if they’d had enough. There were only so many leaves you could chase.
Cat headed towards the Pavilion café. It was a circular building with floor-to-ceiling windows so that, if you sat in the right seat, you could see most of the way round the park. It was perfect for people-watching. There was also alfresco seating under a wide awning that provided shelter from sun, rain and wind, and the Greek owner, George Ambrosia, left bowls of water outside for the dogs. Cat tied the leads to her table leg so the Westies could reach the water, and sat down, rubbing her hands.
George was out in a moment, his white apron gleaming, his glasses on the edge of his nose. His beard and moustache gave the impression of great wisdom or wholehearted scruffiness. Cat hadn’t yet decided which.
‘Hi, George,’ she said. ‘Lovely day for a kite.’
‘Kites wouldn’t stand for this,’ George said. ‘All end up in the trees.’ His voice was low and gruff, the words getting lost in his beard. ‘What can I get you?’ He had his pen poised, his thumb pressed against the pages of his notebook to stop them from flying away.
‘A large tea, please.’
‘Milk, no sugar.’
‘Right.’ Cat grinned.
‘A nice cake? Muffin, or Bakewell? Slice of lemon sponge?’
‘No thanks.’
George nodded and reread his notebook, as if Cat had ordered an eight-piece breakfast rather than a cup of tea, then disappeared inside. Cat checked on the dogs – who were taking turns at the water bowl, their white tails wagging, pink tongues lapping quickly – and scanned the park.
It was busy, despite the bluster, and Cat could see why. It had just the right amount of open space and shelter, the tall trees providing a barrier against the outside world. She hadn’t yet been here during the summer, though she’d come walking with Polly occasionally when she’d visited her from Brighton. She knew that the park would be as popular as the beach for picnics, ball games and sunbathing.
But now,
