‘What?’ Will refused the biscuits with a wave of his hand. ‘You have a cat?’
‘Not anymore I don’t,’ Margot said, taking a biscuit and biting into it with satisfaction. Will decided that it was probably best not to ask for clarification.
He felt very uncomfortable sitting there. It was such a feminine space. But it wasn’t just that. Being in Margot’s sitting room, her flat, felt like an intensely personal experience – as if her possessions weren’t just chosen for functionality, but were imbued with meaning and significance. This was more than just a place where Margot lived. More than a home. Like Blossom’s spot under his table, this was Margot’s safe space and Will felt like an intruder.
Also, if he were to make any sudden movements, he’d send several of her belongings crashing to the floor, its weathered floorboards covered with an ancient Persian rug.
Blossom had been doing a perimeter sweep of the room, as much as she could given the circumstances, but when that was done, she paused in the centre of the room. She looked once to Will, then to Margot who was eating her posh biscuit like it was the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, then jumped on to the sofa next to her.
It wasn’t so much a jump as an ungainly scramble and then she sat there looking longingly at Margot. Or rather, it seemed, the biscuit, because she reached out with her right paw, that she always used to such devastating effect, and placed it on Margot’s arm.
‘Oh! What do you think?’ Margot asked as if she were genuinely soliciting Will’s opinion and wasn’t just going to do what the hell she wanted.
Still, Will would give it the old college try. ‘Best not to. Human food can contain ingredients that are toxic to dogs.’
‘Really? Like what?’ Margot sounded sceptical as if this was just another way for Will to one up her.
‘Chocolate; very poisonous. She’d have to have her stomach pumped if she got into a packet of chocolate buttons.’
‘Not chocolate!’ Margot gasped, taking Blossom’s paw and stroking it. ‘Oh, Blossom, a life without chocolate is like a day without sunshine.’
‘Also grapes, raisins, onions, I’ll add an addendum to the spreadsheet.’ Will was painfully aware that he was coming across like a stuffy buzzkill intent on depriving Blossom of all manner of culinary delights. ‘She can have dog treats though, but only as very specific training rewards. And those chews to keep her teeth clean.’
‘You were going to tell me about the walk schedule,’ Margot prompted, as she gently pushed Blossom’s paw down. ‘No, darling, you can’t have the posh biscuits. Only dog biscuits and only when it’s feeding time.’
Will had already said that he’d send her the spreadsheet he’d painstakingly compiled so that Blossom could optimise her best life, but he still explained the walk schedule. Out in the morning, out in the afternoon, one of these walks being at least an hour, and then the infamous five-minute late night wee walk. ‘I haven’t let her off the lead at all. I didn’t dare. Especially as I was only fostering.’
‘Should we let her off the lead?’ Margot wondered. ‘She certainly comes when I call her.’
That was because Blossom thought that Margot was the best thing ever and Will was merely OK for a man.
‘Her recall isn’t brilliant,’ Will insisted. ‘And she’s still getting to know us – neither of us have bonded with her yet – so maybe we should wait a bit.’
‘Perhaps we should see a trainer. Do you want to be trained?’ she asked Blossom who was now recumbent on the sofa, her head in Margot’s lap. ‘Oh, you just want to sleep, don’t you? Because you’re such a tired girl.’
When Margot spoke to Blossom it was with a cutesy growl that had the same effect on Will’s nerves as someone running their nails down a blackboard.
‘Talking of which, she’s to sleep in her bed,’ he said firmly, because Blossom was a dog, even if she was a particularly forlorn, cute one, and they really needed to establish some boundaries.
‘Really?’ Margot looked crestfallen. ‘But she’s too cuddly to sleep on her own, aren’t you, my precious, precious girlie?’
Yes. Boundaries needed to be established early on, otherwise who knows what horrors Margot would visit on Blossom? Will would turn up for the handover next week only to find that Margot had dressed Blossom up in something pink and frilly and was pushing her around in a pram.
‘Your precious, precious girlie snores so loudly that I really thought we were having an earthquake,’ Will said, and this time Margot looked absolutely outraged at his slanderous remarks. ‘That’s nothing compared to the smells that come out of her other end.’
‘I don’t believe that.’ But Margot wasn’t looking quite so delighted to have Blossom in such close proximity. ‘Although that is good information to have. This rule-setting has been fairly painless.’
Will nodded. It was. He didn’t mind rules, as long as he felt that he had some control over them. ‘So, shall we circle back when we handover? I was thinking Sunday mornings in Highgate Woods. It’s a good halfway point between us.’
‘It is,’ Margot agreed. She had the tip of Blossom’s ear between finger and thumb and was softly rubbing it as the dog made contented, snuffly noises. ‘Not too early. About eleven thirty and then we can still have our lie-in, can’t we, Blossom?’
When she said that, Will was certain that despite establishing all these sensible rules, Margot was going to do exactly what she liked and spoil Blossom so much that she’d be absolutely ruined.
‘Right, well, I’ll be going then,’ Will said, draining his last drop of tea, but he wasn’t sure that Margot had even heard him, because she’d lowered her head so she could kiss Margot’s snout again.
‘You’re so stinky. I think you’re going to have to have a bath with the special lavender shampoo we’ve just bought and then I’ll shower you in love,’ she cooed.
Will was done with being the third wheel. He stood up. Margot managed to tear her besotted gaze away from Blossom for just one second. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out,’ Will said kindly. ‘I can see that you two want to be alone.’
11
Margot
It was a glorious week for a puppymoon. That delicious slide into autumn; the days still warm but with a crispness to them, the evenings chilly enough that Margot had transitioned from her summer-weight duvet to her mid-season one.
Nature was showing off its best colours. The Square now had a carpet of vivid red and gold leaves. There were vibrant orange pumpkins stacked up outside the greengrocer and rich glossy brown conkers lining Margot’s path each time she stepped outside. Margot had taken her pawrental leave as three days’ holiday and two days working from home on the colour palette and themes for next year’s autumn/winter collection. Instead of visiting museums and art galleries or closeting herself indoors with vintage fashion magazines and fabric swatches, Margot found herself inspired by the world around her. She was turning into one of those outdoorsy people.
In the mornings, she and Blossom would head for Hampstead Heath, an ancient expanse of lush, open fields, rich woodland and countless ponds, that was the glossy green jewel in North London’s crown. Margot had grown up in Gospel Oak, a brisk twenty-minute walk from where she lived now. The Heath had been an extension of her back garden. She’d spent long summer days at Parliament Hill Lido. On Sunday afternoons, the three of them, her mother, father and Margot, would go for a post-lunch stroll. One of Margot’s happiest, most vivid childhood memories was being carried on her father’s shoulders, high enough that she could see for miles, and never doubting that he would keep her from falling. For special treats, she’d loved going to the café for sausage, chips and beans, and ice cream for afters. When she was older, she’d hung out with her friends at the bandstand and sneaked off to snog boys. But all that had been a long time ago. A lifetime ago. Margot could hardly recognise the child, or the teenager, she’d been.