And though he’d decided in that moment that he wanted to keep Blossom, sharing seemed like a viable solution. Even if it was sharing Blossom with Margot, who had far too much emotional bandwidth for Will’s liking.
It didn’t take long. Belinda changed the details on Blossom’s microchip then asked them who was paying the adoption fee.
‘I’ll pay it!’ they both said.
‘Really, I’ll pay it,’ Margot repeated firmly, like if she paid the adoption fee it would be proof that she had a legal claim on Blossom.
‘How about we both pay?’ Will suggested, because he’d spent his entire working life strategising and compromising to achieve optimal results and there was no way he was letting Margot have the upper hand. ‘We are both getting a dog from you, after all.’
‘She was spayed a couple of weeks ago so Blossom’s good to go.’ Belinda came out from behind her desk. ‘Are you ready for your freedom walk, young lady?’
First there were photos for the rescue centre’s social media. Blossom decided that she was absolutely not being picked up, so Margot and Will crouched down on either side of her and posed for the pictures, even though part of Will was dying inside. This was not who he was. Yet, here he was, smiling tightly for the camera.
Then there was the freedom walk. All the volunteers lined up and clapped Blossom out of rescue and into the rest of her life.
‘I’m not crying,’ Margot said, her voice thick with tears, as Will opened the door for her. ‘Shut up.’
‘Never said that you were,’ Will replied, because he didn’t need to – it was that obvious. He’d rarely met someone who was so in touch with their feelings. It must be exhausting. ‘Do you want a lift home?’
‘Yes, please; and also, we need to talk about how we’re going to do this,’ Margot said as she followed him to his car. Or rather the ancient Volvo estate, emblazoned with a Bloom & Family logo, that Bernie had bought thirty years ago. ‘Like, are we sticking to a weekly basis? What about registering with a vet and whose details are going on her collar tag? Also, I was going to go and get dog stuff now. A bed, blankets, that sort of thing.’
‘I curated a very detailed shopping list. I’ll ping it over to you.’ Will took out his phone. He thought they’d be done handing over an hour ago. He’d also thought that he’d be Blossom’s sole custodian and having to make the necessary mental pivot was hard. ‘I was planning to stop off at the big pet superstore in Friern Barnet anyway. It’s on the way home.’
Margot sucked in a breath when she opened the email Will had just sent her and saw the list. ‘Two whole pages! How much does one dog need?’ she asked, because clearly, unlike Will, she’d done barely any R&D into what owning a dog entailed.
‘Quite a lot, actually,’ Will said. ‘And I’m sure that once she’s registered with a vet there’ll be add-ons like supplements, not to mention worming tablets and flea treatments.’
‘She’s not having fleas on my watch. Well, I guess she’s going to need two of everything that’s on this massive list,’ Margot decreed with that stubborn tilt to her chin, which was so at odds with how soft she looked. Even her voice, carrying the same faint trace of a London accent as his did, was soft, even when it was issuing orders. ‘So she doesn’t get confused going back and forth. And this list is great, but she is my dog, too, so I should have some input into what she needs.’
When she put it like that, Will couldn’t really argue when Margot selected two dog beds that were almost as expensive as his own bed. Apparently they were made from special orthopaedic memory foam and the faux fur cover was washable, so they were worth every penny.
He did argue when Margot selected six pink fleecy blankets. ‘Pink? Do they all have to be pink? I mean, I’m secure enough in my masculinity’ (he could have sworn Margot arched one of her perfectly winged eyebrows), ‘but that is a lot of pink.’
Margot surveyed the quite staggering number of items spread between their two trolleys, then looked down at Blossom who was happy enough to trot between them and didn’t seem to have an opinion on what her favourite colours were. ‘I suppose they don’t all have to be pink.’
‘Also, why does everything have paw prints or bones on them?’ Will wondered aloud as Margot picked up a big studded leather harness with a doubtful expression on her face. Will plucked it from her hands and put it back on its rail. ‘I hate it when people put Staffies in those things. They look like bondage harnesses.’
‘True.’
Finally they agreed to compromise on a red and white spotted collar and lead apiece, and a red harness.
Then it was on to toys and finally they reached the food aisles. ‘I know it says on your list that a raw food diet would be best, but I don’t have the freezer space,’ Margot said, as Will looked bemused at the shelves upon shelves of dried food and tins of wet food and chiller cabinets of fresh food. He should have invested some funds into the pet-food market. ‘I was going to sign up to a fresh, organic delivery service, if that’s all right with you,’ Margot continued.
It was obvious that there was going to be a problem if that wasn’t all right with Will, and again, he found himself acquiescing. It was the best thing for Blossom, after all. God knows what kind of crap she’d been fed in the past.
Margot was banging on about treats now and how often Blossom should have them, though Will wasn’t really listening but gazing at his trolley, which was piled high.
This was real. This was really happening. He’d signed up for a half-share in a dog and the mountain of stuff that that dog needed for everyday living. Committed himself to constant contact with this woman who was now looking at a packet of bully sticks and exclaiming, ‘Urgh! These are made from bulls’ penises! Gross; she’s not kissing me after dinner. Oh! You forgot to add toothbrush and toothpaste to your massive list . . .’
9
Margot
They were both over three hundred pounds lighter by the time they emerged from the pet superstore. Will looked shell-shocked, as if cartoon birds should be flying around his head, and Margot was silently seething.
Will was determined to rob her of all the milestone moments of dog ownership. Margot had wanted to purchase Blossom’s bedding and her collar and lead from a lovely doggy boutique in Highgate Village. She’d been looking forward to it, but instead she’d been strong-armed into accompanying Will to a big chain pet supermarket just off the North Circular Road. He’d already claimed half ownership of her dog so Margot would have been well within her rights to insist that they’d driven straight to Highgate to purchase two dog beds lined with a William Morris print fabric then peruse the boutique’s exclusive range of accessories that could be colour matched to your dog
Now Will was trying to fit everything into his car: Margot’s stuff on the back seat, his stuff in the boot. ‘I have a system,’ he said shortly when Margot offered to help, so she opened the passenger door and coaxed Blossom into the footwell before she got in herself.
Will’s system didn’t seem very efficient. It also seemed to involve a lot of swearing under his breath, then quickly slamming the door shut before anything could escape.