The Difference a Day Makes (15 page)

‘What was in here?’ I ask. ‘What’s missing?’

Mrs Finnegan inches forward, keeping a wary eye on the dog.

‘He won’t hurt you,’ I assure her. Though he might want to shag her if I recognise the glint in his eye.

‘Everything’s gone,’ she says, eyes wide with shock. ‘Nearly everything. There was some make-up, tissues, a small purse . . .’

‘Call the vet!’ I yell at Tom. ‘Call the vet!’

Hamish is licking his lips. Can I detect lipstick on them? I turn my attention back to Mrs Finnegan and her now empty handbag. ‘Anything else?’

Then, again, there’s the unmistakable sound of a mobile phone. This time it’s the more romantic ‘Stop, Look, Listen to Your Heart’. No mention of listening to the contents of a dog’s stomach.

‘Oh no.’ I fall to my knees on the floor. ‘Not again.’

 

 

 

H
amish is on the vet’s operating table. I brush away my angry tears and push my hair back from my face. ‘I want you to put him down,’ I say.

The phone in Hamish’s stomach rings again. The dog wags his tail in time with the soulful tune.

Guy’s face darkens. ‘Why?’

‘I’ve had enough of him.’

‘He’s a great dog, Amy. He’s just a bit . . . lively.’

‘He has no brain.’

‘Granted,’ Guy concedes. ‘But that’s no reason to consider putting him down.’

I won’t be swayed. ‘You won’t believe what he’s done.’

‘Well, I can hear that he’s dined on another mobile phone.’

‘It’s worse than that. That bastard mutt has just cost me the sale of my house.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘I haven’t got one decent pair of knickers left in the house. He’s chewed them all to ribbons. Even my Janet Reger ones.’ And Will bought me those for our last anniversary. They were my favourites.And I’ll never be able to replace them.That thought alone is enough to make me want to weep.

‘You can buy underwear for three quid a packet in Tesco’s. Move on. Start buying your pants there. I don’t see that as a big deal.’

‘You’re not me!’ I wail.

‘Amy, you’re not thinking straight. I’ll say it again. That’s no reason to destroy a perfectly healthy dog.’

‘He’s not good for
my
health.’

‘I’ve told you that I’ll have him for a few hours twice a week. More if I can manage it.’

‘And what about the rest of the time?’ My voice is getting steadily higher and I realise that the queue of people in the reception area that I’ve barged past can probably hear me, but I don’t care. I want this dog
done
- and now. ‘How do I cope with him for the rest of the time? I can’t afford to keep bringing him to see you.’

‘It’s probably a bad time to point out that I haven’t yet billed you for any of my calls.’

I fold my arms. ‘And it’s probably a bad time to tell you that I don’t expect to be a charity case.’

Guy’s jaw takes on a determined set.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘You want this dog put down then you can do it, because I certainly won’t.’

He hauls a surprised Hamish off the table and yanks an even more surprised me by the arm. Guy marches us through the reception area, past a slack-jawed Cheryl and the assortment of open-mouthed owners with their assortment of cats, dogs, hamsters and rabbits and out into the car park that’s to one side of the practice. Opening his car boot, he pulls out a double-barrelled shotgun from under the floorpan and brandishes it in my direction - which makes me jump. Hamish barks happily.

Guy thrusts the gun into my hands. ‘Have you used one of these before?’

‘No.’ I can barely find my voice.

He gestures at the barrel. ‘That’s the dangerous end.That’s the trigger. Point that bit at the dog. Pull that.’

‘What?’ Now I think that the vet is the one who’s lost his mind. ‘I thought you gave them some sort of lethal injection or tablet.’

‘That’s just for sick dogs,’ he snaps at me. ‘If they’re perfectly healthy then we just blow their brains out. Or, in this case, you do.’

‘I can’t do that,’ I say, horrified.

‘But you expect me to?’

If this is what it takes, then so be it. My hands tremble as they lock round the gun. Sweat comes to my brow and I lick my lips nervously. ‘This is ridiculous. I can’t shoot a dog in your car park.’

Guy is unmoved. ‘Is there a better place?’

A lump sticks in my throat. I can do this. I’ll show him. Gingerly, I point the gun at Hamish. He thinks this is great fun and bounces up and down in front of me, joyously.

‘I’ll ask you one last time not to do this, Amy,’ Guy says calmly.

‘Think of your children. They’ve just lost their father. How will you explain this to them?’

My hands start to tremble. Hamish lies on the ground, rolling over to present his stomach and giving me a great view of his bollocks. Maybe that’s where his brains are, after all. My arms are shaking so much that I can hardly hold up the shotgun. Hamish wriggles on his back, his tongue lolling stupidly.

What the hell am I thinking of? Have I gone mad? I can’t do this - I just can’t do it. And Guy knew that. Of course he did. Lowering the gun, I sink to my knees on the gravel. All my fight seeps out of me. My whole body is shuddering uncontrollably. ‘I can’t manage,’ I say, sobbing loudly. ‘I feel so alone. I don’t know what to do. I can’t manage without Will.’

Guy kneels next to me in the dirt and the gravel. He puts his arms round me. ‘Ssh, ssh. Don’t cry. Everything will work out fine. It’s early days yet. You’re bound to feel like this.’

I lean into him and let the tears fall. Then I feel Hamish try to push his body in between us, his big stupid head nuzzling against my chin as he tries to comfort his would-be murderer. ‘Get off, you silly animal,’ I say. Then I start to laugh, but the crying doesn’t stop.

 

 

 

‘
Y
ou must be good today,’ I say to Tom and Jessica as they finish their cereal - even though they always are.They both nod solemnly and I love them for it. I pick up two headless mice by their tails and deposit them in the bin. ‘And you.’ Hamish wags his tail. I’m not sure that I’m overly delighted that Hamish is still in our household, but here he very much is.

Guy has promised me that he will look for someone who would consider taking Hamish on permanently when we move back to London. I notice that, despite sticking up for Hamish, he’s not in a busting hurry to do it himself. Wonder why that is? Anyway, whatever happens, there’s no way that dog is coming back to Notting Hill with us. How can we? It might break my children’s hearts, but it will break mine more to take him.

This morning the offending animal has pooed - whole - a pair of my black lace panties. I’m very tempted not to bin them but just put them through the washing machine. It would feel like some kind of triumph. But I haven’t lowered my standards to that level yet.

‘Guy is going to look after you all day,’ I tell them for the third time in the hope that they’ll remember.

They both nod vacantly and I realise that I’ve exceeded my nagging quota for today.

Of course, I’d booked my busy day in London before I recalled that the school was shut for a teacher training day. I’m trying to be efficient, organised, straight-thinking, but am failing at every turn. Managing without Will is just so much harder than I’d ever thought possible. The pain of his absence seems to get sharper every day. It often felt as if I was shouldering the entire burden of domestic responsibility on my own when we were married, but clearly I wasn’t.

I did think about dragging the kids down to Town with me, but that would have been impossible. Serena’s away on a conference in Belgium for a few days, so she isn’t around to help either. Before I cancelled it all again, Guy, like a knight in shining armour, stepped into the breech. I’m not sure that he knows exactly what he’s letting himself in for. He’s offered to do the animal duties this evening and I was up at the crack of dawn this morning to do my part.

‘Mummy’s going to be late home.’ I’ve got a diary full of appointments. First I’m going to see my old boss, Gavin Morrison, to see what opportunities are available for me back at the British Television Company. Hopefully, Jocelyn is making a terrible fist of my job and they’ll be only too grateful to give it back to me again. Failing that scenario, there are a couple of other great jobs at the BTC that I’ve had my eye on for years. This may be the time to start completely afresh.

I’ve emailed three of my old friends and I’m hooking up with them for lunch at the hot celebrity restaurant 24/7 and I can’t wait. It’s been months since I’ve eaten decent food at ridiculous prices. In the afternoon, I have a meeting with the Headteacher of Tom and Jessica’s old school so that I can re-register them in time for the new term in January. Not sure what I’ll do if the house sale hasn’t completed by then, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Finally, I’m catching up with the solicitor to get my finances in order and sort out Will’s affairs. Then I’ll know how much money will be available to us and I can make firm plans. A wave of nausea rises from my stomach when I think of doing all this without my husband by my side.

I hear the crunch of Guy’s tyres in the gravel of the drive as he swings in. Bang on time. They’re all going to drop me at the station first, before Tom and Jessica go off for the day with Guy.

He knocks on the kitchen door and then pops his head round. ‘Everyone ready? We need to be moving to catch that train.’

Hamish charges headlong into his saviour. I say nothing as the dog tries to wrangle Guy into the missionary position.‘Down, boy!’ Guy tries unsuccessfully. ‘Down!’

‘Coats on,’ I say to the kids who are much more obedient, and then I fling the dishes in the sink for later attention - which means that the cat will probably lick them clean before I get home.

‘Okay?’ Guy asks breathlessly as he holds the door open for me to climb in his car.

‘Yes,’ I answer. ‘Fine. Thanks for doing this.’

‘You’re welcome.’

There’s a little awkwardness now between Guy and me since I turned into Rambo and wanted to go on a Hamish shooting spree. He handles me with kid gloves in case I should go to pieces again. And I try to avoid thinking how nice it felt to be held by him.

 

 

 

T
hey waved Amy off at the station and then he’d loaded Tom, Jessica and Hamish all back in the car.

The first part of Guy’s plan was to wear Hamish out. And maybe the kids too. It was the first time he’d performed babysitting duties and he wasn’t sure how easy it was going to be. This morning they could all let off steam. This afternoon he needed them well-behaved. Already, he was sure that was going to be much easier to achieve with Tom and Jessica rather than Hamish.

He’d taken the precaution of buying in supplies so that they wouldn’t get hungry - not too much crap, sugar-free fruit juices and healthy snacks such as flapjacks and dried fruit. Hamish sat in the front seat, while Tom and Jessica occupied the back seat as they wound their way out of Scarsby, through the pretty villages, climbing the increasingly steep hills and up onto the moors.

It was a bright, sunny day - which was just as well as the moors could be the bleakest place on earth when it was pouring down with rain and Guy was sure that the kids wouldn’t be so easily entertained then.They reached the top and Jessica and Tom jumped out of the car to open the gate that protected the farmers’ fields. He inched forwards in the car and the cows that wandered freely across the road, reluctantly moved their bulk back towards the grazing land.When the children were back in the car they headed to the top of Staincliffe Tarn and parked in the scrubby little car park.Today, theirs was the only vehicle there. In the summer, when the hordes of tourists descended, you couldn’t move in this place. Now they had the freedom of the moors to themselves and it was at this time of year that Guy loved it the best.

Out of the cosy fug of the car, the strong breeze had a bite to it and he was glad to see that Amy had sensibly given the children warm coats to wear. Hamish jumped out of the car and shook himself, showering them all with slobber.

‘Tell me that you’re going to be good today,’ Guy warned. ‘I have a point to prove.’

Hamish woofed and Guy took it as tacit agreement. After all, this dog owed him one. ‘Ready?’

The children nodded their heads and they all set off towards the tarn. As there were no sheep around for him to worry, Guy unclipped Hamish from his leash and let him run free. He only hoped that the dog would come back, but he’d taken the precaution of pocketing a few dog biscuits just in case.

White clouds whipped across the sky, buffeted by the breeze. The surface of the tarn shivered in response too. Hamish raced back and ran round and round in circles, tongue flying as he went. Jessica scampered off with him, hands held wide trying to catch the wind, long hair streaming behind her. He wondered if Amy and Will had brought the children up here together. He didn’t think so. Maybe they’d just been too busy settling in at Helmshill Grange to explore their surroundings more fully. He was sure that the family had hardly moved out of the village since their father died. He felt so sorry for the kids and he hoped that today he’d been able to take a little pressure off Amy while she did what she had to do.

‘Ever skimmed stones?’ he said to Tom as they approached the lake.

The little boy shook his head. ‘Daddy said he was going to teach me,’ he babbled happily. ‘But . . .’ then his voice suddenly cracked, ‘he never did.’

Guy bent down and slipped his arm around Tom. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m probably nowhere near as good as your dad, but maybe I could teach you instead.’

Tom nodded, brushing away a tear surreptitiously. Guy picked up some flat stones. ‘These are just perfect. Feel how smooth they are.’