Wellies and Westies by Cressida McLaughlin Read Free Book Online Page A

wearing the skin sore. Chalky, his older bones not used to the pace, started whining. The Westies looked like summer clouds at her feet, Bertha like a small pony tearing out in front, and she couldn’t even see Disco. And then, like a flock of birds, their direction changed, and their barking got louder. They pulled her past the Pavilion café, and Cat thought she saw George staring at her, a tea towel in his hand, but she couldn’t be sure because she was focusing on not getting dragged behind the dogs like one of the tin cans on a wedding car.
    They pulled her towards a clutch of trees at the edge of the park, and Cat saw the reason why. Was it possible for your heart to sink and beat out of your ribs at the same time? Cat thought it must be as she watched the grey, furry target bouncing across the grass like a Slinky, its tail a giant dandelion clock.
    A squirrel.

    Of all the bad luck in all the world, she had to find a squirrel on her first outing as a professional dog walker. ‘Come ON!’ She dug her heels into the grass, but they slid in the mud and she narrowly avoided ending up on her bum. ‘Come on, puppies, please!’
    They’d reached the trees. The squirrel had hopped up the trunk of a large oak, so at least Cat could try to get her breath back while all the dogs – Bertha included – tried to climb up after it. Cat could feel the disapproving gaze of every other person in the park burning through her coat, tickling the back of her neck.
    ‘Please,’ she coaxed, ‘please stop. The squirrel won’t come down while you’re here, you can’t get up there and I promise you –I promise you –’ holding the leads in her left hand, her arm muscles burning, she managed to pull the bag of treats out of her coat pocket – ‘squirrel does not taste as nice as these.’ She shook the bag. The dogs didn’t notice.
    Cat swallowed down a wave of despair.
    ‘Look, Disco! Chalky! Valentino, Bertha! Squirrel meat is tough, and it’s all gristle with no flavour at all. Treats are better than squirrel.’
    ‘Are you speaking from experience?’ a voice said. ‘I’d love to know when you’ve eaten squirrel.’
    For a second Cat thought that Mr Jasper had followed her, but the voice was different and the strain on her arm disappeared as a hand gripped the leads, taking all the pressure. She risked turning her head, and found herself staring into the eyes of a man who, it seemed, had come to rescue her. Cat felt a jolt of recognition. She’d seen him and his dog before, had seen him watching her through the park railings the day she’d lost her job.
    ‘How else do you suppose I get them to stop trying to climb the tree?’ She should be grateful, but his flippancy when she was so flustered made her instantly defensive.
    ‘You think that they’re going to listen to your culinary advice?’

    He was walking backwards, forcing her to move with him as the leads were still wrapped round her hand, and as he did so, the dogs, resisting at first, realized the game was up and turned away from their conquest. Disco bounded up to Cat’s rescuer and put her paws on his jeans. He let go of the leads and lifted Disco into his arms, just as his collie dog, tongue lolling, trotted up and sat at his feet.
    Cat felt her annoyance rise. His dog didn’t try and antagonize Bertha or the Westies who, tired out by their chase, gave the new dog a cursory sniff and settled down on the grass. Here, they were sheltered by the trees, the rain still falling beyond their natural canopy.
    ‘What are you?’ Cat asked. ‘Some kind of dog whisperer?’
    He laughed, and while Disco struggled in his arms, Cat had the opportunity to look at him up close. His black-brown hair was expertly dishevelled, just asking to be ruffled, and his leather jacket – the same one as before – was worn at the elbows. He had the beginnings of stubble and there was amusement in his dark eyes. Was that amusement aimed at her? She was sure he’d been