tennis ball landed heavily inside the railings, and Disco yapped loudly as a glossy border collie raced up to find it. The larger dog stuck its shiny black nose through the bars to greet Disco. Cat crouched and stroked the dog’s muzzle, then looked up to see someone watching her. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a mass of dark brown, untamed hair. He had sharp, handsome features, and even from a distance Cat could feel the weight of his stare. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of a leather jacket, the collar turned up against the cold.
The man continued to look steadily at her, not the dog – which she presumed was his – and Cat realized she was holding her breath.
Then Disco barked, sank her teeth into the sleeve of Cat’s purple jacket, and pulled. ‘Sorry, Disco,’ she whispered. She carefully extracted the puppy’s jaw, and when she looked up the man was striding away from her. He whistled, and the collie picked up the tennis ball and raced after him. Cat watched him go. ‘Was that weird, puppy, or was that me making something out of nothing?’ Disco wagged her tail. ‘That’s what I thought.’
She was still thinking about the strange near-encounter when they turned into her road.
Primrose Terrace was an elegant crescent moon of tall, stately town houses, some in better repair than others, but all with their own charm. Each of the houses was painted a different pastel colour, their large front doors raised up from the pavement, reached by three wide front steps. The grass verges were peppered with primroses in the spring, and old-style street lamps made Cat feel she was in a Dickens adaptation whenever there was a hint of fog.
She’d moved from nearby Brighton just after Christmas to be closer to her friend Polly, further from the well-meaning prying of her parents, and to start as assistant at the nursery. Well, that had been short and not at all sweet, and Cat was suddenly jobless, directionless and desperate not to have to ask Joe for an extension on her rent so soon after she’d moved in. She tried not to let panic rise up inside her like champagne bubbles after the cork has been popped. She lived with Polly and Joe at number nine, and Elsie Willows, Chalky and Disco were at number ten; the street numbers running concurrently rather than odds and evens. Despite being smaller than many of the other houses, without the customary attic conversion, number ten Primrose Terrace was one of the prettiest. It was pale blue with gleaming white window frames emphasizing the large sash windows, the front door was pillar-box red and Elsie had placed pots of budding hydrangeas at the edges of the steps.
Cat let Disco prance up ahead of her, then rang the bell. It took a long time for the door to open, and when Elsie stood in the doorway, leaning on a crutch, her short white bob, cardigan and long skirt as neatly presented as her house, Cat felt her cheeks redden.
‘It didn’t go as well as you’d hoped, then?’ Elsie said, looking at Cat’s face before opening the door wide and ushering Cat in, hobbling after her into the airy living room.
Cat let Disco off the leash, and the puppy bounded to the basket under the window, where Chalky, Elsie’s older miniature schnauzer, was having a mid-morning nap. Disco nuzzled Chalky’s face, yipped and picked up a heavily chewed cuddly pig, then stood expectantly in front of the older dog. Chalky lifted his head, looked balefully at the puppy from under tufty eyebrows, and closed his eyes. Cat laughed, but Elsie was watching her expectantly.
‘No,’ Cat sighed, her smile fading. ‘It was even more disastrous than my worst-case scenarios.’
‘I told you that Alison wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘I had hoped she would come round to my way of thinking.’
‘That, Catherine, is a triumph of optimism over common sense, and I’m being kind.’
Cat stroked Chalky and ruffled Disco’s fur. Elsie lowered herself slowly into an armchair.
‘I didn’t want Disco in the house while you went for your check-up,’ Cat said. ‘Puppies get lonely, and then they get disruptive.’ Just like me, she thought. ‘I was going to see what mood Alison was in and then, at break time, bring Disco out to meet the children.’
‘But you didn’t get that far?’
Cat shook her head.
‘You know what Alison’s like,’ Elsie said, ‘and you know that dogs are her pet hate – no pun intended. She’s probably more upset that you actively went against her wishes, rather than for any disruption you – and my dog – may have caused. But I am sorry, because you were doing a favour for me.’
‘How was the check-up? I’m surprised you’re back already.’
‘Oh, it was fine.’ Elsie waved her hand dismissively. ‘The knee’s healing, but slowly. I have to stay off it as much as I can for another few weeks. Nothing I didn’t know already. What’s the damage to you? Suspended? Cut in wages?’
‘Fired,’ Cat said. ‘No second chances, no room for manoeuvre. Do you want some tea?’
She left Elsie gawping in the living room and busied herself in the kitchen, making tea and finding chocolate biscuits. Her insides felt hollow with panic, but already, talking it through with Elsie, she was beginning to feel better. It had only taken four days for Cat to become friends with her neighbour once she’d moved to Primrose Terrace, and what Elsie didn’t know about Fairview wasn’t worth knowing. She’d gone into hospital for a long-awaited knee operation at the end of February, and Cat was helping out, taking Disco and Chalky for walks when she could, cooking for her sometimes, keeping her company.
‘I am so sorry, Cat,’ Elsie said when she returned with the tray. ‘I didn’t think she’d go that far.’
Disco was on the sofa, performing a thorough hunt for any treasure that might be hidden between the cushions. Cat poured the tea and scooped the puppy onto her lap. Disco wriggled, licked Cat’s hand and settled down; a warm, breathing comfort blanket.
‘She was furious,’ Cat said. ‘It was a stupid idea, I know. But I just thought that once she’d met Disco she’d realize how wonderful dogs can be. I mean, how could anyone be annoyed at this little thing?’
‘Not everyone loves dogs, and some people actively dislike them. They can be smelly and messy and very badly behaved.’
‘Yes, but look.’ Disco was breathing softly, her small ears flopped over her eyes, her head resting on her front paws.
‘You don’t have to convince me,’ Elsie said, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be able to convince Alison either. Stop worrying about her – what’s done is done. You have to focus on yourself, and what you’re going to do now.’
Cat stared out of the window, watching as the man from a few doors down walked past, wetsuit on, a surfboard under his arm. Cat thought it must be pretty cold in the water today, despite the sun. She stirred her tea.
‘Cat?’ Elsie prompted.
‘Sorry, what?’
‘What are you going to do now that you have no job?’
Cat saw the challenge in the older woman’s eyes and knew that she wouldn’t get away with feeling sorry for herself. ‘I have no idea,’ she said. She stared at her hands and noticed that the varnish on one of her nails, the one that was orange like a tangerine, had started to peel.
‘What about your old nursery? Would they have you back?’ Elsie wouldn’t
