a puppy, the blinking of its eyes the only movement as it gazed up at her. Over one eye was a patch of black, but most of its coat was the softest grey, splashed with black as though a careless artist had tired of finishing the painting, its paws and chest a damp, stained white with a smudge of tea-stains.
The puppy shivered and its chin sank down onto its paws as though it was exhausted.
‘Hang on.’ It didn’t respond. Not even the slightest wag of its fluffy tail, which sent a shiver of alarm through Lucy. Her instinctive response would have been to reach in and cuddle the poor animal, but something told her not to. It was poorly, very poorly.
She reluctantly closed the flaps of the box back down as gently as she could and ran back inside, grabbing her mobile phone as she dashed up the narrow stairs. She couldn’t ring Charlie to discuss something like a house for sale, but this was altogether different. ‘Charlie?’
‘Morning, gorgeous, you’re up early for a non-school day!’
‘I know you’re not open yet, but …’
‘Are you okay?’ His voice lost some of its cheery tone as he picked up the worry that tinged her words.
‘Somebody’s dumped a puppy in the garden. It’s in a box, but it looks really sick, it’s just lying there and shivering, and it’s …’
‘How sick?’ The cheeky edge had gone altogether now, replaced with professional concern in an instant, and she could imagine his frown, the narrowing of his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.
‘It looks like it’s been sick in the box, all its chest is damp and stained,’ she put the phone on speakerphone and dropped it on the bed, rifling through the drawer for clean underwear, ‘and it looks so thin and pathetic. I know I’m no expert, but it hardly even moved when I opened the box up, puppies just aren’t supposed to behave like that, are they?’
‘Bring it straight down, Luce.’
‘I’m just getting clothes on,’ she was breathless as she yanked her jeans up, fumbling with the zip with one hand, ‘I’ll be there in five minutes.’
Vet Charlie Davenport headed out of the surgery as soon as he spotted Lucy. He got the same familiar rush of pleasure he always did when he saw her. Along with the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her. Which would be very unprofessional.
He’d not expected to see her until the evening. It was the last weekend of the school summer holidays, and he knew that Lucy, organised as she was, would be busy with spreadsheets and lesson plans, getting ready for the new term of fresh-faced children, excited after a summer of freedom.
He felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten. This term that included his daughter Maisie, and he was dreading it.
He’d been over the moon when his ex, Josie, had finally let him see Maisie again. The daughter she’d told him might not be his, the daughter she’d refused to let him see for months.
When she’d asked him to look after Maisie while she worked abroad for a few months his whole world had seemed brighter and he’d been naively expecting it to be just like it had when they’d been a family.
Maisie had moved in with him at the start of the summer holidays, and it had been a big adventure. Now, with the new term approaching the reality had started to sink in. She was starting a new school, she wasn’t going back home to the friends she loved. She had a new uniform to pick up on Monday, and a bright new book bag that she didn’t like at all. It was the wrong colour. It had the wrong badge on it. Mummy hadn’t picked it.
They were both struggling, him with how to deal with the unexpected tantrums, and her with adjusting to a different life.
He sighed. After Maisie had begged, then told him it wasn’t fair, then stared at him with her big brown eyes brim-full with tears, and her lower lip trembling, he’d relented and allowed her to spend Friday night with a friend from her old school. He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. He’d cocked up; he should have spent all summer ensuring she made friends with the children in Langtry Meadows. But it had seemed wrong to expect her to take the move in one massive step.
He was already proving pants at this single parenting lark. He was heading for disaster.
When Lucy had suggested they spend Saturday evening together, then take a picnic out on Sunday afternoon, fly the kite he’d bought, have some fun, he’d jumped at the suggestion as quickly as his daughter had. Maisie loved Lucy; he wasn’t convinced she held him in quite as high esteem.
‘It’s been sick again just in the time it’s taken me to walk down here.’ Lucy ran through the open doorway, out of breath, going straight through to the consulting room, where she put the box down and slowly undid the top. As though worried about what she’d find.
Charlie glanced in and frowned. This was worse than he’d expected. He reached for some gloves, then carefully lifted the tiny scrap out of the box. A gangly, skinny bundle of dirty fur that seemed to weigh nothing in his hands.
It shivered violently, the shakes travelling down its whole body. ‘Has,’ he paused, glancing up at Lucy who was pale, biting her lip, ‘she been in contact with any of your other animals?’
‘No, I’d only just found her when I rang, well Gertie found her. But she didn’t touch her, the box was still done up. I left her by the gate while I rang, she just looked so poorly …’
He nodded, relieved. ‘Good. You didn’t clean her up, then …’ He had to be sure.
‘No. Should I have done? I just panicked and …’ She stared at the gloves.
‘No, no. You did exactly the right thing, didn’t she little one?’ Charlie stroked one finger gently over the tiny puppy’s head, but it barely reacted.
‘What’s wrong with her, Charlie? Why are you wearing …?’
‘I’m sorry Lucy, the gloves are a precaution.’ He softened his tone. He didn’t want to upset her, but he had to be honest. ‘I can’t be sure, but there’s a chance this little mite has got parvo.’ He wanted to hug her. But he couldn’t.
‘Parvo?’
‘Parvovirus. It’s pretty lethal when it comes to young animals like this, and from a quick look at her she’s not very old at all. No idea where she came from?’
‘None.’ She shook her head, and her blonde ponytail swung from side to side. ‘The box was just dumped by the gate.’
‘Well she can’t be local, nobody here would do that. They must have driven in from outside the village.’ He frowned, angry at the callousness of some people. ‘How much effort would it have taken to have the animal treated, to have taken it into a local surgery?’ He knew the rough edge was back in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. ‘Instead of abandoning it to its fate. If you hadn’t been at home, it could have been dead within twenty-four hours.’
‘It’s that serious?’ Lucy leaned forward to look at the pup, her voice soft, and he knew she was finding it hard not to reach out, touch it, reassure the tiny scrap.
He nodded, tried to be brisk, business like. ‘It’s good that you got here quickly before morning surgery started.’ Charlie quite liked Saturday morning
