would again be late and boozy, wasn’t an entirely happy one, especially after they’d waltzed in and interrupted her evening with Mark. If she hadn’t noticed their car, done the right thing and rescued her housemates, where would she be now? After a shaky start, the date had gone well. Cat felt she knew Mark a lot better, could start to see him as a real person instead of the glossy, overly confident persona he projected, and she wanted that to continue. With the image of his dark eyes, and his lips so close to hers, dancing in her mind, she said goodnight to Polly and, gratefully, climbed into bed.
‘So this is Alfie, and this is Effie.’ Delia pointed at the dogs in turn. ‘Alfie’s curlier, Effie straighter,’ she said, as she eyed the two boisterous retrievers.
‘That’s right,’ Cat said, sidestepping a pair of greyhounds coming the other way. She hadn’t banked on her parents wanting to actually join her on one of her walks – nobody else had to deal with ‘take your parents to work’ day, and her mum’s sandals were not ideal, especially not with the two retrievers who, Cat knew by now, wouldn’t slow down for anything.
Her mum and dad bustled along behind her as she did a wide circuit of the park, warming the dogs up before she let them off the lead. As her Pooch Promenade client list had grown, she had tried out different ways of walking the dogs, and knew that Alfie and Effie were best walked on their own, as their larger size and energy meant that she’d struggle if she had Jessica’s Westies or Elsie’s mini schnauzers at the same time. And this was an impromptu walk, the one Juliette had asked for while Cat had been trying to kiss Mark on the doorstep.
‘So it’s going well, then?’ her dad huffed, almost jogging to keep up. ‘You seem very adept at it, I must say.’
Cat laughed. ‘At walking? I’ve had lots of practice.’
‘You’re in charge of the dogs,’ Peter clarified. ‘I can see that they like and respect you.’
‘They’re gorgeous, friendly dogs,’ Cat said, bending to stroke Effie. There was something so sturdy and dependable about the retrievers; with their large, brown eyes and loping movements, they were completely different from the bounding, cheeky Westies.
‘And they belong to your neighbour?’ Delia asked, jumping as a football came sailing towards them. A small, blond-haired boy raced up to collect it, apologizing noisily.
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