Follow Me Home (13 page)

We reach the Sanctuary and park in one of the bays in the tarmacked car park in front of a slate-grey bungalow with holly and beech growing around the outside. To our left is Longdogs Copse, and to the right is a small paddock divided into two with green electric fencing tape and pink posts. There are three skinny sheep in one side and a grey pony in the other. Beyond, there are some outbuildings, a barn open at one end, a cattery and a kennel block.

Keeping Frosty on the lead, I let her out of the pickup, where she immediately tows me across to the hedge and starts sniffing.

‘This way, Frosty.' I give a half-hearted tug on the rope.

‘You see, she thinks she's going for a walk.' Lewis comes across and takes the rope from me. ‘You have to be firm with her.' He gives the rope a tweak and Frosty trots along beside him to the bungalow where Tessa opens the door. She's one of those people who doesn't realise how beautiful she is; tall and slim with dark, almost black hair, full lips and sculpted cheekbones, like a Bond girl. Even in scruffy outdoor clothes and Wellington boots, she looks amazing and, slightly annoyingly, she's warm and generous with it.

I introduce her to Lewis.

‘How are you, Tessa?'I ask.

‘I'm better than I was.'

I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd been ill.' I frown.

‘I wasn't ill. I had morning sickness.' She smiles. ‘I still can't open a can of dog food without throwing up, but I've never been happier.'

‘Congratulations. That's great news.' There's no hint of a pregnancy bump yet under her jacket, but she's looking suitably pale, with dark shadows beneath her eyes.

‘I've got a booking-in appointment with you next week.' She turns to the dog. ‘Who is this cutie here?'

‘This is Frosty,' I say.

‘It's Zara's idea of a name,' says Lewis.

‘I like it. We have all sorts coming in here.' Tessa takes down a few details on a clipboard before showing us to the kennel block and opening the door. ‘This is where she'll live until we find her a home.'

‘How long do you think that will take?' I ask.

‘It's hard to say. Our longest resident stayed for eighteen months.'

Lewis glances at me. ‘Oh dear. You don't put them down, do you?'

‘It's our policy not to, unless they turn out to be aggressive or have chronic medical conditions that can't be managed. We do our best.'

The kennels are purpose-built, clean and airy, but Gran is right. It's like a prison with concrete and bars and I can't bear it. There's a little old sausage dog with sad eyes in the corner of the first pen. I have to drag Frosty past him, her ears down and her tail tucked between her legs.

‘She can have number seven,' Tessa says. ‘If she's all
right with other dogs, we'll pair her up with one of the younger ones after a couple of days.'

I squat down beside Frosty, ready to remove the rope lead. She nudges my hand with her cold wet nose as if to say, please don't leave me here. My chest tightens and a tear springs to my eye and rolls down my cheek onto her fur. I can't do it to her. I can't leave her behind.

‘Zara?' Lewis holds the kennel door open for me. ‘You can let her off now.'

I shake my head. ‘Nope. I'm going to take her home with me.' I stand up, embarrassed at my tears. ‘I don't need a dog, but—'

‘Everyone needs a dog,' Tessa interrupts.

‘That's what I was trying to tell her on the way here. A dog is a man's – and woman's – best friend.' Lewis hesitates before reaching out and stroking my shoulder. ‘What about what you said on the way here? What about the commitment and the time?'

‘It's fine.' I look down at Frosty, who's looking back up at me with scared brown eyes. ‘I'll do anything.'

‘What about your gran? How will she take it?' Lewis asks.

‘I guess I'm going to find out. That sounds bad, doesn't it, but I think she'll be pleased. She's always wanted a guard dog.'

‘I'll have to ask you a few questions, make a home visit and get you to sign the adoption papers,' Tessa says, taking advantage of my change of mind. ‘I can drop by this afternoon? You're still living above the shop, the newsagent's?'

We agree on a time and set off from the Sanctuary with Frosty perched on the seat between me and Lewis.

‘I'm so sorry for wasting your time,' I say.

‘It's no problem. I hope you're sure about this and you don't look back and feel you've been forced into it.'

‘No one forces me into anything,' I say firmly. ‘This is my decision. It might turn out to be the wrong one, but I'll have to deal with that if that's what happens.' I'm aware I'm sounding strong, but inside I'm wavering. Who do I think I am, imagining I'm a suitable owner for a dog like Frosty who's going to need extra-special care and understanding after weeks or months of abuse and neglect? She keeps flicking her ears in the breeze from the fan in the dashboard as she looks out of the window at the world going by. ‘I want to ask you something. Promise me you won't laugh or make me feel like an idiot.'

‘I'd never do that,' Lewis says, his expression serious. ‘What is it?'

‘I haven't a clue how to look after a dog properly.'

‘I can help you out. It isn't rocket science.'

‘What am I going to do if Gran doesn't want to give Frosty a home?'

‘She gave you one,' he says light-heartedly.

‘And what do you mean by that?' I say, flirting back. ‘Are you implying I'm more trouble than a dog?'

‘I reckon you could be. You do get yourself into odd situations – the flat tyre and finding Frosty. It doesn't happen to everyone.' Lewis parks outside the shop,
and turns to face me, holding my gaze. The throbbing of the engine is joined by a pulsating ache of longing in my chest.

‘Would you like to come in for coffee?' I ask, not wanting him to leave.

‘I'd better go – my boss will be wondering where I am. Another time though.' He rubs the back of his neck. ‘If you want any advice, you know where I am, any time. I'll text you later to find out how Tessa's visit went . . . If that's okay with you,' he adds in a low voice.

‘Of course it's okay,' I say quickly, cringing when I realise how uncool that sounds.

‘I'll be in touch then,' he says with a glint in his eye. ‘Good luck!'

I watch him go, wondering if he's deliberately setting out to seduce me, before taking a deep breath and entering the shop with Frosty beside me, hoping that the sight of this poor skinny dog on a piece of frayed rope will be enough to convince Gran to let her stay.

‘Before you ask,' Gran says sternly from behind the counter, ‘the answer is no. It isn't because I don't feel sorry for her. It's because there isn't room for a dog under my roof.'

‘But you said you would feel safer if you had a guard dog,' I say, disappointed at her reaction but as yet undeterred.

‘Yes, a guard dog. What's a little scrap like that going to do if faced by a burglar?'

‘She can bark as well as any dog. And she's got
some growing to do – upwards as well as outwards. I'm sorry for turning up like this without warning, but when I got to the Sanctuary, I couldn't do it.'

‘You're too soft,' she says. ‘How do you think you're going to look after a dog when you're out at work all hours?'

‘I was hoping you might . . .' I say lamely, realising now how unfair I'm being, expecting her to care for a lively puppy.

‘What about old Norris? Have you thought about his feelings? He had his nose put out of joint when you arrived. How will he feel about a dog at his age?'

‘I didn't think,' I stammer. ‘Look, I'll take her back.' It's going to kill me, I think, but better that than give my grandmother a hard time.

‘Isn't there anyone else you know who could have her? The shepherd has dogs.'

‘Lewis? I've already asked him.'

‘Oh . . .' Some of the light goes out of her eyes. ‘What about Poppy? She's desperate to have a pet.'

‘Emily has enough to cope with at the moment. The last thing she needs is a dog.'

‘Your mum and dad? They have time on their hands, time enough to go looking for a home for me.'

‘A dog wouldn't fit into their lives – you know how they like to travel.'

The doorbell jangles.

‘A customer for you,' I say, turning to find Tessa coming towards us.

‘I was passing so I thought I'd drop by now,' she says. ‘Is that okay?'

‘I'm afraid not. I can't keep her after all,' I thrust the rope into Tessa's hands and, stifling a sob, rush along the hallway through the storeroom and outside into the tiny courtyard garden. What was I thinking? That Gran would welcome another waif and stray with open arms?

My mobile rings, interrupting my thoughts. It's Fiona, one of the other midwives on the team, wanting to know if I can sacrifice my day off to catch a baby.

‘I wouldn't normally ask, but it's one of your mums, Sophie. She wanted to ring you, but couldn't pluck up the courage. She said she didn't want to bother you, so I said I'd do it instead!'

Sophie lost her eighteen-month-old child to meningitis not so long ago.

‘She's asking for you. I said I'd speak to you On the off-chance,' Fiona continues.

‘How far?'

‘She's seven centimetres dilated and moving on nicely. I don't think she'11 be much longer, but it doesn't matter if you're busy.'

‘I'm not busy.' I look along the hallway where I can see Tessa and Gran involved in a conversation with Frosty sitting at their feet. ‘I'll be with you in half an hour max. Tell her to wait for me.' I was at the birth of Sophie's first child, Toby, one of the happiest of occasions, and I promised her I'd do everything in my power to support her through this second labour. ‘You're right,' I say, briefly rejoining Gran and Tessa to explain where I'm off to. ‘How can I possibly look after a dog?'

‘You go beyond the call of duty,' Gran says. ‘This is supposed to be your day off.'

‘I know.' I squat down, put my arms around Frosty's neck, all fear of her banished, and hug her goodbye. She turns her head and licks my nose.

‘You'd never think my granddaughter used to be afraid of dogs,' Gran observes with pride in her voice.

‘Good luck, Frosty Whiskers,' I mutter, straightening up and turning to Tessa. ‘Thanks for this. I'm sorry for messing you around. I'll see you later, Gran.' I run upstairs, change into my uniform and drive to Sophie's home, a neat, three-bedroomed semi-detached house at the top of the new estate. The image of Frosty remains in my head and her unconditional love is etched on my heart, and I know I'm going to regret having to give her up for the rest of my life.

I knock on the door and Fiona, a bubbly redhead, lets me in. Married with three teenage children, she's been a midwife for twenty-five years now.

‘Hello, Zara.' She lowers her voice. ‘Sophie's a bit stressed and so is dad.'

I join them in the living room where Sophie's making waves in the birthing pool.

‘I'm so happy you could make it.' She forces a smile and I take her outstretched hand.

‘How are you doing?' I ask her. ‘And you, Joe?' Joe is her husband; he's six foot four and a landscape designer.

‘I'd forgotten how much it hurts,' Sophie says.

Joe doesn't say anything. I recall from the last time him being the strong, silent type.

‘Joe, go and make Zara some tea,' Sophie says. ‘And I'd like some music now – Adele's album.'

She squeezes my hand to help her through a contraction. Joe checks the water temperature, Fiona and I drink tea and Sophie wallows in the pool. It's very calm and both parents are more relaxed. The baby's heart rate is stable while Sophie's contractions are coming closer together and with increasing force.

‘I'm ready to push,' she says suddenly.

‘Do you want to stay in the pool to deliver?' I ask.

‘Can I?' she says, glancing towards Fiona, who nods.

‘If Zara's happy.'

‘Would you like to catch your baby, Joe?' I go on.

‘I'm not sure. I felt a bit faint the last time.' Joe looks up at the photos on the wall, at the pictures of Toby, a blond, blue-eyed boy like his mum, when he was first born and as he was growing up. There are none of him after he turned eighteen months old, though, and the house is bereft of the muddle I'd usually associate with a toddler's presence. There are reminders, a teddy bear on the windowsill and an album facing out on the bookshelf with
Toby
printed in gold lettering across the cream leather binding.

‘I'll try,' Joe says gamely, moving to the edge of the pool to be with his wife.

Ten minutes later, the baby's head appears, and with one more push, it's out.

‘There you are,' I say, supporting the baby in the water so that Joe can catch hold of her. He leans forwards and promptly blacks out, falling face down into the pool. Sophie screams. I lift the baby out, still attached by the
cord, while Fiona deals with the fainting father who, having hit the water, is coming round, gasping and shaking his head as he drags himself up to a sitting position.

The baby is wailing. I place her on Sophie's chest.

‘Congratulations, you have a beautiful baby girl,' I say, smiling.

‘Did you get that, Joe?' Sophie says, crying and laughing at the same time, while her husband sits on the floor, groaning, with his head between his knees. ‘It's a girl.'

He looks up, slides closer to the pool and reaches across to his wife, putting his arms around her and the baby. ‘I'm sorry for being such a wuss. I'm so proud of you.'

Later, Fiona and Sophie are with the baby in the living room and I'm clearing the mugs away in the kitchen where Joe joins me.