dogs are so…The cartoon you did on that Post-it, when you suggested “Bitchin’ Walks”, was incredible. But I know you disapprove, so—’
‘I don’t disapprove.’
‘But the dogs—’
‘I admire what you’re doing. How you’ve not allowed what happened to dent your confidence, which is what I did after – after Rosalin.’ He winced, his eyes not meeting hers, and Cat bit her lip. ‘We’re not always going to agree, but I don’t disapprove, Cat. Far from it.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
‘So you want me to design you a cartoon dog?’
‘Only if you’ve got time, and I can—’
‘Sure.’
‘Really?’ Cat’s heart skipped a beat.
‘I’d love to. Anything to help.’
‘Wow. Thank you. I’ll pay you, of course.’
Joe waved her away. ‘Not a chance. If I decided Shed needed daily walks you’d do it for free.’ He gave her a sideways smile and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Cat couldn’t help it. She flung her arms round his neck and felt his hand press lightly against the small of her back. ‘Thanks, Joe, that means so much.’
‘It’s fine,’ he said into her shoulder. ‘It’s nothing.’
Cat breathed in his sandalwood shaving cream and for a brief second she wasn’t quite ready to let go, but the moment passed and she pulled away from him, grinning from ear to ear. She clinked her glass against his. They sipped in silence and then, because she was feeling buoyed by his good mood, and because he had agreed to help her so readily, she decided to be bold. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come on Friday night? I know you’ve said it’s not your thing, but the movers and shakers of Fairview will be there. I bet loads of people could use a local illustrator and designer, especially one as good as you.’
They moved into the living room and Joe flopped down on the sofa. ‘It’s a party, for people to have fun at. It’s not a networking event.’
‘Why can’t it be both? And anyway, don’t you want to have some fun? You’re always so busy. You go from your office to the kitchen to the deli down the road. You can’t possibly describe running as fun, and these opportunities don’t come along very often. You never know what could happen.’
And maybe it was the wine, or his prevailing good mood, or something else that Cat was unaware of, but her daring paid off. Joe gave her a hesitant, lopsided smile and said, ‘All right. Mainly just so you’ll shut up about it – but I’ll come with you.’
Cat could only grin at him, until that grin turned into surprised laughter, which in turn infected Joe, until they were both laughing at nothing, loudly enough to wake Shed up. The cat yawned expansively, gave them a disgusted glare and padded off in search of Whiskas.
‘I can’t find my heels! I’ve been in this house four months and it’s already eaten my best shoes.’
‘If they’re your best shoes, how come you haven’t needed them for the last four months?’
‘This is not the time to be smart, Joe, this is the time to be helpful. Have you seen them?’
‘I haven’t,’ Joe said. ‘But I’ll check the last of your boxes that are still out by the back door.’ She heard him move past her, ignoring the pointedness in his voice, and delved further into the cupboard under the stairs. It was dusty and dark, and Cat didn’t want to think about the soft fronds stroking her face, or what might be trying to live in them. She was glad she’d waited to have her shower.
‘If I had a dog,’ she said, ‘then he’d find them in seconds. He might chew them, but at least he’d find them.’
‘What was that?’ Joe called.
‘Nothing!’
Despite his recent good mood, Cat still felt that she was treading on eggshells with Joe, that he was like a plastic windmill that could change direction with a single puff. One word out of place and he’d take off his shirt – not that she’d particularly mind that bit – put on his grey hoody with the holes in the sleeves, and slump down on the sofa. She didn’t want to turn up to the party on her own, and now she had it in her head, she couldn’t imagine going without him.
She found a box of old CDs and a pair of battered orange trainers that looked like Polly’s size, then her hand closed around something familiar but completely out of place. She pulled it into the light and sat on the carpet, examining the collar. It was for a large-sized dog, navy blue, no tags or studs – or Swarovski crystals – but definitely a dog’s collar. Was it Polly’s, brought home from a shift at the vet’s? She burrowed back in, her hands going to the same place, and this time she pulled out a tennis ball, its fuzz worn away to nothing.
She jumped as something nudged her thigh, and suddenly Shed’s front paws were on her leg, trying to launch his hefty weight over her and into the depths of the cupboard, claws digging into her flesh. ‘No, Shed – yeouch!’ She nudged him back down. ‘I will never be able to get you out if you go in there. And don’t pincushion me.’ Shed closed his eyes.
‘But what are these?’ she whispered. ‘Are they Polly’s? Would you like to play fetch?’ She waggled the ball at him and he turned abruptly and sat on the carpet with his back to her. Cat checked her watch and shoved the items back in the cupboard just as Joe appeared in the doorway with her black patent peep-toe heels.
‘Are these what you’re looking for?’
Joe had outdone himself. He was wearing a navy suit with a crisp white shirt, the dark blue of the jacket making his eyes look almost unnaturally bright. He’d shaved his designer stubble, and tamed his short hair with a product that smelled of tropical beaches. Cat nodded her approval. ‘That’s, uhm – you look great, Joe.’
‘Likewise. Is your dress new? I didn’t hear you ferreting around for it like the shoes.’
Cat smiled. ‘I wanted to make a good impression.’ She’d smoothed her fringe to the side, and found a pair of beaded dangly earrings to match her dress.
Joe cleared his throat. ‘Oh, you’ll definitely—’
The door flew open and Polly hurried in, her blonde hair flying, her cheeks pink. ‘Am I too late? Can I still make it?’
‘You’re coming?’
‘Layla said she’d cover – she was meant to be flat-viewing tonight but it’s fallen through.’
‘Awesome!’ Cat fist-bumped with her friend. ‘We can be fashionably late.’
Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Even more, you mean?’
‘Give me ten minutes. Promise.’ Polly raced up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door.
Half an hour later they were ascending the steps to number one Primrose Terrace. There were gold fairy lights framing the front door, highlighting the yellow paintwork, and the house seemed to buzz with anticipation,
