‘In there.’ Margot nodded her head in the direction of the sitting room. ‘She’s a bit shy with strangers.’
‘I hope she’s not going to bite,’ Sarah said. ‘I was worried when you said you were getting a Staffy. I still think you’re more of a Golden Retriever girl.’
Despite owning a miniature Dachshund, Sarah was a Golden Retriever kind of girl herself. When they’d been children, Margot, with her frizzy hair, sturdy build and argumentative nature, had longed to wake up one morning and discover that she’d become Sarah, because Sarah was leggy, blonde and had a wild, wilful optimism and playful nature that Margot usually found endearing. But not when Sarah cast aspersions on her dog. ‘She’s not going to bite. She doesn’t even bark. And it’s a complete myth that Staffies are aggressive . . .’
‘Yes, and also did you know that they used to be known as the Nanny Dog?’ Tracy sing-songed a verbatim account of Margot’s many defensive WhatsApp messages after she’d broken the news that rather than getting a cute fluffy small dog in a neutral colour, she’d got a traumatised Staffy with bald patches.
‘I hate all of you.’ Margot tucked her arm into Tracy’s as they sidestepped into the sitting room where Blossom was standing in the middle of the room, ears pricked, tail wagging. Not in the happy way that Margot was getting used to. This was a more frantic, rhythmic kind of wagging. She backed herself away until she was in the furthest corner of the room and able to hide behind the armchair. ‘Give her some time to settle. I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’
‘We brought some fizz as it’s a special occasion,’ said Jess, pulling out a bottle of Crémant from one of her bags. ‘Couldn’t afford champagne so we went for the next option.’
Margot popped open the bottle in the garden as she wasn’t sure how Blossom would cope with the loud noise. It wasn’t until everyone had a glass and a slice of lemon raspberry ripple cake from the Hummingbird Bakery that Blossom poked her head out from round the side of the armchair.
Her nostrils twitched and she inched forward, watchful, intent. She padded over to Jess who was wedged at one end of Margot’s sofa with her plate on her lap (it was a bit of a squeeze for three people) and sat down in front of her. Then Blossom’s right paw came up to land heavily on Jess’s knee.
Blossom might be shy with strangers but she knew how to sniff out a mark. Jess was easily the softest of them all. Never a week went by without someone, usually her boss, taking advantage of her good nature. Maybe it was because she was so small; she barely came to Margot’s shoulder, her baby face framed with the same blunt brown bob that apparently she’d had since primary school. It was her life’s work to find nice shoes that would fit her size-one feet.
‘Oh no,’ Jess said helplessly. ‘It’s like I have no will of my own and I have to give your dog a piece of cake.’
‘No!’ Margot yelped so shrilly that Blossom broke off her street-urchin begging routine to give her a startled look. Then her huge manga eyes fixed back on Jess and the paw landed on Jess’s knee again. ‘She’s not allowed to have human food. We agreed. Especially not refined sugar.’
Blossom didn’t get any cake but she got a lot of presents. A new collar and lead in leopard print with diamanté accents. Several stuffed toys, a pink doggie hoodie that said ‘Classy Bitch’ and a bulbous, thick rubber thing called a Kong that looked like some kind of horrific sex toy. ‘It’s not! The man in the pet shop said that you fill the hole in the middle with treats and plug the top with peanut butter,’ Tracy informed Margot in outraged tones. ‘Although they had several other things in that shop, studded rubber sticks, that absolutely looked like dildos.’
‘Blossom’s definitely not having any of them,’ Margot said aghast. ‘She’s got quite enough stuff already. This is all so kind of you. I’m glad I get to experience this because, God knows, it’s looking unlikely that I’ll ever have a baby shower. If George and I hadn’t broken up, if he hadn’t strung me along, I could be pregnant now. I could even have had a baby.’ If George had been willing, then in the space of the year just gone, Margot’s small, safe life would have become something larger and more wonderful. She’d have had her own family. Husband. Child. The rites of passage that everyone else seemed to take for granted, to find so easy to achieve, and yet they continued to elude her.
Margot couldn’t help but sigh and willed herself to ignore the first tears welling up, the sob rising in her throat. She was sick of grieving for something that had never existed.
‘George was all wrong for you,’ Tracy insisted. ‘You’re glorious, Margs, and George was, well, he was—’
‘Not glorious,’ Sarah said crisply. ‘Why you settled for George and his permanently smug, self-satisfied face, I don’t know. You don’t need to settle.’
‘There comes a time when you have to settle,’ Margot said, as she’d said every time one of her friends questioned her choice of George, who actually had been very nice and not that self-satisfied in their first months of dating. ‘Otherwise you’re holding out for some romantic ideal that’s probably not going to happen and wondering if it’s time to freeze your eggs.’
‘Dude, are you still thinking about doing that?’ Jess asked, and Margot nodded glumly in reply.
‘But you have a fur baby now,’ Sarah said from the armchair, where Blossom was leaning against her shins while having a shoulder massage. ‘Honestly, Margot, having a traumatised rescue dog is much less work than a baby. I bet Blossom lets you sleep straight through.’
Blossom, like Margot, was not a great fan of getting up. In fact, she was not a morning dog at all, and after a week of late starts, Margot was dreading having to get up at eight again for work.
‘It’s still quite a lot of work,’ she said trying to ignore the little prickle of hurt when Jess and Sarah shared that look that mothers shared when someone who didn’t have children was trying to claim that their life was anything less than a walk in the park. ‘But it’s going to be very hard to hand her over tomorrow.’
Now all three of her friends sat forward. ‘Yes! Next item on the itinerary: this man that you’re sharing a dog with,’ Jess breathed, she tapped Margot’s knee in a peremptory fashion. ‘Details, please.’
Margot knew that she wasn’t perfect – she had a long way to go until she reached any kind of enlightenment – but she did try to see the best in everyone, as she’d like them to see the best in her. Still, it was very hard to discuss Will with any degree of enthusiasm.
‘Well, Blossom seems to like him,’ she said after a torturously long pause. ‘So I suppose that has to count for something.’
‘Does Margot not like him then?’ Sarah asked. ‘Have we found the one man in London that you don’t think has any redeeming features?’
It was fair comment. Margot had dated the churlish, the unwashed, the uninformed and once, someone who’d done ten years for attempted murder although she hadn’t known that when she’d agreed to meet for a quick coffee.
Even an absolute horror could turn into a prince, although none of them actually had. Neither would Will. He wasn’t a prince in disguise. He was the man who’d fostered her dog and then refused to give her back.