and rushed back into the house. He had to be hiding somewhere. A dog didn’t just disappear into midair. This wasn’t a sciencefiction show or one of those Las Vegas illusionist’s acts. This was my life! My totally screwball life, admittedly. I had been watching Freddy the whole time … Or had I? I had been so worked up about getting outside on the footpath to wait for Matt. Had I let Freddy out without realising it? There was no other way he could have got out. I hadn’t left any windows open and, anyway, none of them were low enough for him to jump out. Could he have slipped past me without me noticing? He was only a little dog, and a devious one at that.
I raked my hand through what was now a bird’s nest of my hair. I felt sick and sweaty and icy cold at the same time. My overactive imagination was conjuring up horrid images of Freddy squashed flat on Bayswater Road, or mangled underneath a car and dragged for miles. Or kidnapped and held for a huge ransom. Or sold into one of those ghastly fighting dog rings that operate underground. I choked back a sob as the doorbell rang. It was the police, I was sure of it. They were here to tell me the dog I was supposed to be minding was deceased.
I wrenched open the door but it wasn’t the police. It was Matt Bishop. For a moment I just looked at him numbly. The siren of panic screaming in my head had taken away my ability to speak. I was barely able to string two thoughts together. My head was pounding with the effort of trying to keep control of myself and not fall into fits of wild hysteria.
He held up my phone. ‘You left it in my car.’
I didn’t care about my wretched phone. I took it from him and all but tossed it on the little table in the front hall. ‘Have you seen Freddy?’ I asked.
His brow furrowed. ‘Freddy?’
‘The little dog I had in the park,’ I said, my breathing still all over the place. ‘He’s gone. Disappeared. Vanished. I can’t find him anywhere.’ I could hear my voice cracking and swallowed to clear the blockage of emotion strangling me. ‘He must have got out. I have no idea how. He was here when I left with you. I’m sure he was.’
‘Where have you looked for him?’ Matt asked in a deep, calm voice, which kind of made mine sound all the more hysterical.
‘Everywhere,’ I said. ‘Inside and outside, back and front. He’s not he-e-e-re.’ I dragged ‘here’ out like a whiny kid having a tantrum. I know. Dead embarrassing.
‘What about his owner’s house?’ he asked. ‘Have you looked there?’
I swear to God I could have kissed him. I almost did. I had to physically restrain myself from throwing my arms around his neck and smacking a big fat smoocheroo on his gorgeous mouth. I hadn’t thought about Margery’s place. It was the most obvious place to look but in my panic I hadn’t even thought about it. ‘Let’s check,’ I said instead, and scooped up my coat and scarf off the peg.
I was in such a rush to put it on I got myself in a tangle. Matt came to the rescue and held my coat behind me like a well-bred gentleman does and helped me guide my arms through the sleeves. Was it my imagination or had his hands given the tops of my shoulders a gentle and reassuring everything-is-going-to-be-all-right squeeze?
For a nanosecond I breathed in the scent of him. I allowed myself a tiny moment of feeling him standing behind me like a strong tower I could lean on. I wasn’t used to leaning on anyone for support. I hadn’t even let Andy do it, well, because he was rubbish at it, to be honest. But for that tiny fraction of a heartbeat I caught a glimpse of what it would be like to have a partner who would stand by me, who would be strong when I was falling apart, who would take control and sort out the mess I had stumbled into and make it all work out, like unpicking a really hideous knot.
We walked the few houses down to Margery’s place. The snow was falling in earnest now. It was really quite romantic, come to think of it. It was like a scene from a film—a guy and a girl walking along the street in search of a missing dog. I just hoped this one had a happy ending.
Matt used the light app on his phone to shine on the footpath so I didn’t lose my footing. I guess he must have worked out by now I was pretty clumsy when I got stressed.
When we got to Margery’s front porch there was Freddy, sitting on the doormat, shivering so hard he vibrated like a two-stroke engine. I rushed to him without thinking and bundled him into my arms, only to get one of my hands nipped for my trouble. Even though I was wearing woollen mittens—my ones with kitten faces on them, including whiskers, which might have had something to do with why Freddy attacked me—his teeth sank into my flesh almost to the bone. Well, not quite to the bone, but it sure felt like it.
‘Ouch!’ I said another word, actually, but you get the idea.
Freddy jumped out of my arms—I might have dropped him but I’m not sure—and started whining and scratching at Margery’s front door.
‘Are you okay?’ Matt asked.
I shoved my hand in my pocket. ‘Fine.’ I looked at the pathetic sight of the shivering dog desperately trying to get inside his house and felt a wave of compassion flow over me. ‘Poor little boy. He misses his mum.’
‘Separation anxiety,’ Matt said. ‘It’s because his owner treats him like a human instead of a dog.’
I glanced at him in the light being cast from the streetlight. His face was cast in shadow but the light was still strong enough to show the dark, unreadable sockets of his eyes and the long blade of his nose and his unbelievably gorgeous mouth. ‘Yes, well, Freddy is all Margery has now her husband is dead. She has no family other than a sister who doesn’t let her bring Freddy with her when she visits so what sort of sister is she?’
‘I once minded my sister’s pet rat. That’s sisterly love for you. I hate the things, but I did it because I love her.’ I guess the throbbing pain in my hand was making me run off at the mouth or something. I finally got my motor mouth under control and gave Matt a sheepish look from beneath my half-mast lashes. ‘Sorry. Rant over.’
He gave me one of his crooked smiles. ‘No problem.’
I looked back at Freddy. ‘So, little guy, we’d better come to some sort of understanding. I’m filling in for your mum so you have to do things my way. No more Houdini pranks, okay?’
Matt produced Freddy’s lead, which he had wisely taken from my hall table. I’d been in too much of a state to even think about it. He snapped it on the dog’s collar and led him away from Margery’s front door. ‘I’ll walk back with you,’ he said.
I felt foolish and embarrassed as we walked back to my house. In the last thirty-six hours I had given Matt Bishop an impression of myself that was comical rather than competent. Panicky rather than professional. And—even worse—sexually available instead of committed.
I considered telling him about my cancelled wedding. I had just enough time in the distance between Margery’s house and mine. Surely he would understand, given what he’d hinted regarding his parents’ marriage? What if I just told him about my stupid postcard fiasco and how I’d been caught off guard when I’d arrived at work? How I had felt too embarrassed to explain and lied to save face. It was a perfectly understandable reaction. I wasn’t the first person in the world to utter a little white lie or two. Maybe he’d told a few himself. Surely he’d understand. Who didn’t tell a few lies now and again? It was part of being human.
I formed the words in my head but I couldn’t get them past my lips. I couldn’t bear to tell anyone, least of all him. I felt sick at the thought of
