Raincoats and Retrievers

‘Now,’ Mark said. ‘Dessert?’

‘Undecipherable dessert.’

They found their answer at the same time: Lemon posset with caramel honey tuile and pomegranate espuma. Cat watched Mark order them with a straight face and, when the waiter had gone, and she had managed not to descend into giggles, he reached over and took her hand.

The sun was just a thin line of burnished red marking the break between sea and sky, and she could see herself and Mark reflected back at her in the window.

‘Cat,’ he said, and there was something about his voice that made her breath catch in her throat. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this point.’

Cat shook her head. ‘You’ve been busy, it’s OK.’

‘It’s not. I have been distracted, with the move, the new film. But I don’t want you to think that you’ve been an afterthought. You haven’t.’

‘OK.’ Cat swallowed. ‘Thank you. I did wonder if we were going to sidestep around each other for ever. But this is – this is great. Getting to know you. A little bit, anyway.’

‘This isn’t a one-off,’ Mark said. ‘At least, I don’t want it to be. But what do you think? It hasn’t been a total disaster, has it?’ His thumb stroked her hand.

‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘Despite the threat of beetroot and seaweed, I think it’s going well.’

The candle cast shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks, and his skin looked dark against the crisp white of his shirt. Cat shivered and rearranged her serviette on her knee.

‘Are you cold?’

‘No, I’m fine. How’s Chips?’

‘She’s good,’ Mark said. ‘I took her for an extra-long walk this afternoon, through the park and up along the cliffs, so hopefully she’s tired out and not missing me too much. You have a cat, don’t you? What’s his name?’

‘Shed. He’s OK, though he’s not actually mine, he’s Joe’s. I wouldn’t have picked a grumpy ginger cat as a pet.’

‘It’s always puzzled me, why you don’t have a dog of your own.’

Cat gave him a quick smile. She didn’t want to say anything to turn Mark against Joe. If things kept going in the right direction, she wanted them to be friends. ‘It’s not practical with Shed there, he can only just tolerate human company. But I’m not short of canine companions. The Barkers’ retrievers are lovely – quite different to the schnauzers or the Westies. They’re strong and they like long walks, but they’re very affectionate, playful. I somehow feel more confident when I’m walking them.’

‘I don’t think I know the Barkers.’

‘They live at number six. In their forties I think, their kids are grown up and off being independent, and Will and Juliette both have quite high-powered jobs. Juliette works at home some days, but when she’s in the office I take Alfie and Effie out. Will likes surfing. There’s quite a bit of it around here, apparently.’

‘Now that’s something I haven’t tried,’ Mark said.

‘Would you like to?’

‘Oh, I’m up for anything once.’

Cat narrowed her eyes. ‘Anything? Even eating a fugu fish or swimming with sharks?’

‘Sure.’ Mark shrugged. ‘Why are your fears so marine-based?’

‘They’re not – those things just popped into my head. I love the sea. I suppose if your passion is horror, you don’t scare particularly easily.’

‘Other things scare me,’ Mark said. ‘Unpredictable things.’

‘Like what?’ Cat asked, and then, because it was going so well and she wanted to try and match Mark for playfulness while also doing a bit of digging, added, ‘Because saying you’re afraid of commitment isn’t unpredictable.’

Mark grinned. ‘I know that. You’re doing me a disservice, that’s not what I was going to say. And I’m not afraid of commitment. I was in a long relationship, before this.’ His grin faded, but he held Cat’s gaze.

‘How long have you been single?’ she asked quietly.

Now he did look away. ‘Nearly a year.’

‘And how long were you together?’

‘Six years,’ Mark said. ‘Moving down here was – is – part of the fallout. Getting some space, starting again.’

‘Six years is a long time,’ Cat said, thinking of the photo of the woman on Mark’s fridge door. But if they’d broken up…‘She must have meant a lot to you.’

‘She did,’ Mark said. ‘You can’t be with someone for that long and not feel it when it ends. But it did, and you get past it. It’s how life works. And tonight, this – with you – it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.’

He took her hand again, and Cat opened her mouth to reply, but the moment was broken by the waiter delivering their desserts to the table. Cat looked down at the pale yellow blancmange, the blob of vivid pink foam and golden sugar decoration. She dipped her spoon in and brought it to her lips, her eyes widening as the flavours hit her tongue. ‘Wow,’ she mumbled, ‘indecipherable food is delicious.’

After Mark had refused to let her go Dutch and had paid the bill, and they’d finally pushed their chairs back from the table, the restaurant was nearly deserted. The three courses and coffee had gone some way to counteracting the most of a bottle of champagne that Cat had drunk, but she was still feeling a warm, hazy glow.

They stepped out into the night-time breeze and Mark wrapped his arm around her waist. He opened the car door for her but before she’d had time to get in, he cupped her face, pulled her towards him and kissed her. It felt delicious, her whole body tingling in response to his lips on hers, and the whisper of the hilltop breeze. She wrapped her arms around him, his warmth contrasting with the goosebumps on her arms.

They were quiet on the drive home, Cat breathless from the kiss, and the anticipation of what could happen when they got back to Primrose Terrace. The lights of the town winked in the darkness as the Audi purred down the hill, into Fairhaven and then the more familiar streets of Fairview, finally stopping outside Mark’s house. He leaned over and kissed her again, his fingers caressing her neck.

‘Did you want to come inside?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Cat waited for Mark’s smirk, his wide, charming grin, but he just nodded and climbed out, opening the door for her.

They made it up his front steps before he kissed her again, enclosing her in his arms under the soft glow of the hanging lantern over the front door. Cat let herself be drawn in. She had almost lost herself to him completely when a familiar voice called up to them.

‘Cat, is that you?’ She broke away and turned, blinking quickly, and saw Juliette Barker, her black corkscrew curls pulled away from her face, hands clasped in front of her. She was wearing a cream business suit that looked almost peach under the street light. Cat thought for an awful moment she was about to be told off for kissing in public.

‘Juliette. Hi. How are you?’

Juliette nodded and gave a quick smile. ‘Fine, fine. Sorry to disturb, but could you walk Effie and Alfie tomorrow? Only Will had told me he was going to be at home all day, and I’ve arranged a series of important meetings in the office, but now he’s got some surfing meet-up that he apparently has to attend. Anyway, he can’t take the dogs and nor can I. Are you around? I was coming to your place but I looked in this direction and –’ She indicated the pair of them standing, post-snog, on the doorstep.

‘O-of course I can fit them in,’ Cat said. Mark ran his fingers up Cat’s back and she tried to shimmy away from him. ‘What time?’

‘Eleven? They’ll be running rings round the furniture by then, and I –’ She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Sorry, this is incredibly rude of me. I can see you’re in the middle of…’

‘It’s no problem,’ Cat said, not wanting to get into a discussion with her neighbour about what she was or wasn’t in the middle of. ‘They’re such lovely dogs, and sometimes things don’t fit easily into working hours.’ She smiled, and Juliette seemed to relax a little.

‘Great, thank you.’ She glanced between them. ‘You’re Mark, aren’t you?’

‘Guilty as charged,’ Mark said, holding his hand up in a static wave. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Do you like surfing?’

‘Never tried it,’ Mark admitted. ‘Your husband, Will, he enjoys it?’

‘Far too much,’ Juliette said. ‘Well, maybe that’s unfair. He enjoys it at the expense of almost everything else. I know it’s a good hobby, it keeps him fit, he gets lots of fresh air – but he seems so obsessed with it. He spends his life down at that cove. Why do men get so obsessed with things? It doesn’t seem healthy.’

‘I get obsessive,’ Mark said. ‘Not about surfing, but my work – my writing.’

‘And Joe, my housemate,’ Cat joined in, ‘is anal when it comes to so many things. Feet on the coffee table, talking during films, dogs in the house…’ she added quietly. ‘I think it’s just a man thing.’

‘He used to be obsessed about work,’ Juliette said ruefully. ‘But not any more. Now it’s new wetsuits, streamlining his board, catching the waves – as if they don’t happen every hour of every day. He’s started talking in a new language – it’s all “hang fire”, or, no, what is it? I’m sure it’s “hang” something. I can’t remember.’ She sighed and shook her head, a curl escaping and falling over her face.

Mark and Cat exchanged a glance.

‘Sorry,’ Juliette said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t mean to – I’m still interrupting. I’ll leave you to it.’

‘No, Juliette,’ Cat said, ‘we don’t mean for you to go, it’s just…’

‘Thank you so much for walking the dogs tomorrow, Cat. Have a good evening.’ She gave them a brusque smile and turned, her court shoes echoing as she walked the few yards back to number six.

Cat watched her go, her embarrassment at being interrupted fading as Mark snaked his arm around her waist. But as she spun to face him she noticed a car parked further up the road, and her stomach swooped for an entirely new reason.

‘Now,’ Mark murmured, his lips brushing her neck. ‘Are you coming inside? I don’t think there’s anything you can do to prepare for walking Juliette’s dogs, is there?’

Cat closed her eyes. His touch and his taste, his confidence, his dark eyes, they were all so enticing. ‘I – I can’t,’ she said. She put her palms flat on his chest. He flinched slightly and tried to pull her closer, but Cat resisted. ‘There is nothing I would like more than to come in with you right now. But I can’t.’

‘Why?’ He smiled at her, only a hint of confusion on his face. ‘Because of Juliette?’

‘No, not that. Because the red Renault with a World’s Greatest Inventor bumper sticker that’s parked outside number nine belongs to my parents.’ She sighed and rested her head against his chest, which was a mistake, because it felt good and it made her even more reluctant to leave. ‘They must have come for an impromptu visit and – depending on how long they’ve been there – Polly and Joe might be beyond rescuing.’

‘Then there’s no need to go back,’ Mark said, ‘if it’s too late to save them.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured, leaning in for a final, delicious kiss. ‘If I thought I could get away with it, I’d stay.’ Reluctantly, she left Mark standing on the top step, watching her. His face gave nothing away, no frustration, no flicker of disappointment. She reached number nine, searched through her bag for her keys and then, pushing open the front door, went in to face the carnage.

Chapter 2

Cat’s mum and dad were wedged on the smaller of the two sofas, Shed stretched out with his head on her mum’s lap, his back legs on her dad’s. The cat was snoring. Despite the weather, her dad Peter was wearing his usual fishing waistcoat over a short-sleeved shirt, and Delia, her mum, had her sunglasses perched on her head, sending her short brown hair into disarray. Polly was sitting opposite them, hands clasped together, and Joe was on the arm of the sofa, as if trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t staying. He’d probably been there, his bum going numb, for hours. That’s what happened in the presence of Cat’s parents – you couldn’t escape.

‘Cat,’ Joe said, standing as she walked in. She could hear the relief in his voice, and she flashed him an apologetic look. ‘How was it?’

‘Catherine dear.’ Her mum reached her arms up towards her as if she was a toddler asking to be picked up. Obviously, Shed couldn’t be disturbed. ‘It’s so lovely to see you.’ Cat reached down and hugged her mum, taking in her overly floral perfume, and then her dad with the musty workshop smell that hung around him like a fog.

‘You too,’ she said, ‘though you could have called ahead, told me you were coming. I kind of had plans tonight.’ She gave them a tight smile, and folded her arms.

Her mum and dad exchanged a cheeky look. ‘We wanted to surprise you,’ her mum said.

‘We had no idea you’d be out on a date,’ her dad added. ‘Couldn’t fathom it at all! Joe and Polly have been the perfect hosts in your absence. How much detail do we get?’

‘Hardly any,’ Cat said, not adding that the potential for juicy gossip would have been much greater had they not turned up and cut short her evening.

‘Oh, come on, Cat,’ Polly said, standing up and embracing her friend, ‘we’re all dying to hear how it went.’

‘And I’m sure they’ve heard enough about my handheld seed sower,’ her dad chipped in.

Glancing at Joe and Polly, Cat thought that a truer word had probably never been spoken. She could see Mark again whenever she wanted – she hoped all was not lost there – but her friends would never get their evening back.

‘All right then,’ she said, rolling her eyes and flopping down onto the sofa, ‘but is there any tea left in the pot?’

Cat gave them the edited highlights of her evening, focusing on the grand venue and food, the view from the top of the hill, and trying to skirt around the conversation and her complicated feelings for Mark. Her parents seemed placated, mainly because her dad was a keen gardener and was appalled that he’d never visited one of the vineyards along the south coast, and her mum wanted to hear about every flavour and ingredient Cat had eaten.

‘Well,’ Delia said, when Cat’s words had dried up and Shed had disappeared out through the catflap. ‘We don’t want to keep you all. We’re in the bed and breakfast up the road. Lovely couple, both men, two dogs. Perfect little alternative family. The room is English cottage luxury, silver wallpaper – sounds awful, but it works.’

‘You’re staying?’ Cat said, only just managing to keep the squeak out of her voice.

‘Only for a couple of days, love,’ her dad confirmed. ‘Thought it would be easier than driving back. We’ll take you out to dinner tomorrow. Have a proper catch-up, hear all about the dogs and this Mark chap.’

‘And we want to meet some of your new doggy friends.’

Cat led them to the door, let them take their turn to smother her in their hugs which, she had to admit, couldn’t be beaten by anyone, then waved them down the terrace until they climbed the steps to Boris and Charles’s.

It was close to one in the morning, and while Cat was tired, Polly and Joe looked as though they’d had the life sucked out of them.

‘I am so, so sorry,’ Cat said, sinking onto the sofa. ‘What time did they arrive?’

‘About half an hour after you left,’ Polly said, grinning. Polly had met them on several occasions over the years, and so had prior warning of Cat’s overenthusiastic, eccentric parents, and the way they doted on their only child. Cat knew Polly liked them, though she wasn’t sure how welcome their surprise visit was mid-revision. It was Joe who looked shell-shocked.

‘So you’ve had them here all evening?’ Cat’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

Joe nodded and ran a hand over his face. ‘To be fair they brought lemon drizzle cake. And home-made sausage rolls and cheese-and-onion pies. We didn’t have to cook, but I’m going to have to run a marathon to use up all the carbohydrate.’

‘My mum’s a great cook.’

‘Why don’t we get home-made sausage rolls?’

‘Because I’m a dabbler,’ Cat said. ‘I’m nowhere near as good as Mum is. I’ll have a go if you like, but not now. Now, I’m going to bed.’

They all traipsed up to the first floor, and Joe headed on to his attic bedroom.

‘Why are they staying?’ Polly asked, pausing at the bathroom door. ‘Brighton’s not far.’

‘Because it is inconceivable that my parents could go out to dinner without consuming at least two bottles of wine. If they were going back to Brighton, then one of them would have to drive.’

‘So I shouldn’t expect you to be sober tomorrow night, then?’

Cat closed her eyes. She felt utterly exhausted, and the thought of dinner with her parents which, while fun, would again be late and boozy, wasn’t an entirely happy one, especially after they’d waltzed in and interrupted her evening with Mark. If she hadn’t noticed their car, done the right thing and rescued her housemates, where would she be now? After a shaky start, the date had gone well. Cat felt she knew Mark a lot better, could start to see him as a real person instead of the glossy, overly confident persona he projected, and she wanted that to continue. With the image of his dark eyes, and his lips so close to hers, dancing in her mind, she said goodnight to Polly and, gratefully, climbed into bed.

‘So this is Alfie, and this is Effie.’ Delia pointed at the dogs in turn. ‘Alfie’s curlier, Effie straighter,’ she said, as she eyed the two boisterous retrievers.

‘That’s right,’ Cat said, sidestepping a pair of greyhounds coming the other way. She hadn’t banked on her parents wanting to actually join her on one of her walks – nobody else had to deal with ‘take your parents to work’ day, and her mum’s sandals were not ideal, especially not with the two retrievers who, Cat knew by now, wouldn’t slow down for anything.

Her mum and dad bustled along behind her as she did a wide circuit of the park, warming the dogs up before she let them off the lead. As her Pooch Promenade client list had grown, she had tried out different ways of walking the dogs, and knew that Alfie and Effie were best walked on their own, as their larger size and energy meant that she’d struggle if she had Jessica’s Westies or Elsie’s mini schnauzers at the same time. And this was an impromptu walk, the one Juliette had asked for while Cat had been trying to kiss Mark on the doorstep.

‘So it’s going well, then?’ her dad huffed, almost jogging to keep up. ‘You seem very adept at it, I must say.’

Cat laughed. ‘At walking? I’ve had lots of practice.’

‘You’re in charge of the dogs,’ Peter clarified. ‘I can see that they like and respect you.’

‘They’re gorgeous, friendly dogs,’ Cat said, bending to stroke Effie. There was something so sturdy and dependable about the retrievers; with their large, brown eyes and loping movements, they were completely different from the bounding, cheeky Westies.

‘And they belong to your neighbour?’ Delia asked, jumping as a football came sailing towards them. A small, blond-haired boy raced up to collect it, apologizing noisily.

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