continued. ‘What sound does the whistle make, Emma?’
Emma made the shape with her lips and blew as hard as she could. What came out was a soft, wet raspberry noise. Emma looked surprised. ‘My mummy can do it,’ she said.
Alison nodded. ‘It takes a bit of practice, but you’re very close. Now this –’ she held up the whistle – ‘does it for you.’ She pressed it to her lips and blew.
Children shrieked, a couple put their hands over their ears and Tom shouted: ‘Dog!’
Alison frowned and gestured her palms towards the floor. ‘Dog?’
Cat risked a glance at her handbag. It was in the same place.
‘Dog!’ Tom shouted again, his bottom bouncing up and down on the carpet. ‘Dog!’
‘Well, yes,’ Alison said slowly, ‘lots of people use these to train dogs, but—’ She was interrupted by a quiet but determined yelp.
‘Dog!’ Tom shrieked again, and other children joined in. ‘Dog dog dog.’
Cat got onto her knees. If she crawled quickly, maybe she could get there in time. Children were imaginative; it would be dismissed as overexcitement. But then the little black nose, the grey fur and then the whole fuzzy, inquisitive head pushed out of the handbag’s opening, forcing the zip, and Disco was out. The puppy ran on her tiny legs towards Cat, knocking over three bottles of paint, and into the middle of the children, who erupted into delighted squeals.
Disco leapt and bounced and yipped and snuffled, exploring the sounds and smells and warm bodies around her, her little paws clambering on knees, small hands reaching out to stroke and tug her. Cat tried to gather the puppy to her, but Disco and the children were having too much fun, and so instead she turned to see her boss’s reaction, wondering fleetingly if she’d be pleased that Cat had made the children so happy, and realized she was doomed. Alison was standing with her arms folded, staring at Cat with eyes that burned right into Cat’s conscience. She gestured towards the dog, words unnecessary.
Disco was standing with her front paws on Peter’s knee, and Cat watched in horror as the patch of carpet around her back legs turned a darker shade of red.
‘Wee!’ Peter squealed.
Cat picked the puppy up and held her wriggling body tightly. The children reached out towards her, and as Cat left the carpet she caught sight of Emma. The young girl was grinning with undisguised satisfaction.
‘Right, children,’ Alison said, her voice sharp as ice, ‘that’s enough sounds for today. If you’d all like to go to your chairs, we can do some colouring-in until fruit time. Cat, go to the office and wait for me.’
‘Alison,’ Cat tried, ‘shouldn’t I clear up—’
‘I’ll be through as soon as I can.’ Alison turned back to the children. Peter was tugging on her skirt, his face bright and open. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘what is it, Peter?’
‘Allergic to fun,’ Peter said, pointing up at her. ‘Achoo!’
‘How could you do that to me, Catherine? After all we’ve talked about? All the rules we’ve gone through.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’ Cat was leaning against the table in the office, Disco tied to a bench outside the back door, because Alison couldn’t stand to look at it for a moment longer; not after the havoc it had caused. Cat didn’t think that reminding her that Disco was a she, not an it, would add weight to her cause.
‘You never do, not about the safety of the nursery. You’re imaginative, full of bright ideas, but you never stop, for one moment, to think of the consequences.’ Alison was walking backwards and forwards in the small, windowless space, her long plait swinging, her limbs tight with anger. ‘What part of you thought bringing a dog into my nursery would benefit anyone? The children could have been injured, infected – anything!’
‘I was helping out a friend,’ Cat murmured. ‘But I know, now, that I shouldn’t have done it.’ She shuffled her feet and looked at the floor.
‘Do you?’ Alison shot. ‘Really? Because I think that, given half the chance, you’d do it all over again. You’re not a completer-finisher, Cat, and that’s the kind of assistant I need. It’s not going to work out, but I think you already knew that.’
Cat’s stomach shrivelled. ‘If you could give me one more cha—’
‘No.’ Alison shook her head. ‘No more chances. I’m surprised you stayed in your last employment for as long as you did. You’re not reliable, you’re not supportive and, frankly, you’re downright disruptive. Your time at Fairview Nursery is over, and if I wasn’t so angry with you, I’d pity you. I can’t imagine you being successful anywhere else with this kind of attitude. Go out of the back door, and take that thing with you.’
‘Can I say goodbye—’
‘No. You’ll get a formal letter confirming my decision and a record of your final payment through the post.’
Cat stared at the floor, unable to respond as Alison left the room and slammed the door behind her. She pushed herself off the table and, swallowing down the sob hovering in her throat, collected her coat. Outside, Disco had managed to tie her lead round and round the leg of the bench, and was sitting with her nose pressed into the wood, as if she’d been told to sit in the naughty corner. It was exactly how Cat felt.
The sun had fully emerged by the time Cat left the nursery, the sharp frost melting into crystal drops under its rays. She wouldn’t be going back, unless Alison had a sense-of-humour transplant. She was no longer welcome, and therefore no longer employed.
‘Oh, well,’ she said to the small puppy who, now free from her handbag cage, bounced along the pavement at Cat’s feet, sniffing the grass verges, straining at her short leash. ‘At least we escaped with our lives. At one point I wasn’t so sure, were you?’
Disco yipped in response and Cat changed course, walking along the edge of Fairview Park, running her hands along the black railings. She still couldn’t get over how idyllic her new home was. She had the beach, the park, and wide, quiet roads that demanded strolling rather than hurrying. Fairview wasn’t large – it perched on the sea edge of the south-coast town of Fairhaven – and Cat was already getting to know the area’s different charms. In Fairview Park she felt as if she could be anywhere. The wide expanse of verdant grass criss-crossed with paths, the oval pond and the Pavilion café were sheltered from the surrounding Georgian terraces and the sound of the sea, only two roads away, by tall evergreens.
At this time of the morning it was busy with dog walkers and couples strolling in the spring sunshine. Disco wasn’t old enough to walk for long periods yet, her short legs getting tired easily, even though the rest of her seemed to have endless energy. The puppy stopped, sniffing enthusiastically at the base of one of the railings, and Cat stopped to let her – there was nowhere she needed to be.
She had already begun to recognize a few of the park’s regular visitors, and she could see Mr Jasper bustling close to the trees, head down, as if he’d just put up one of his protest signs and didn’t want to be spotted by any of the dog owners he despised. Cat felt her shoulders tense; she’d had enough of dog haters for one day and, while Alison was within her
