‘I’m all right,’ he said, and it was true. Somehow, he’d managed to keep hold of Blossom’s harness and she was huddled into him, licking his chin. ‘You’re all right too.’
He stayed sat on the ground, the rain pouring down (because of course it had started raining again), until both he and Blossom had stopped shaking. Will pressed his forehead against hers, her fur clinging damply to his skin.
‘I will never hurt you. And I promise I will never shout at you again. You don’t need to be frightened anymore because you are safe. You will always be safe with me.’
He wasn’t sure that Blossom believed him but as he walked her home, she walked docilely by his side, her tail very firmly between her legs.
Will was covered in mud. He wiped his trembling hands off on his jacket and pulled out his phone.
Margot answered on the second ring. ‘Oh my God, why are you ringing me? Has something happened to Blossom? Is she all right? Do you need me to leave work and come over?’
If Margot ever found out what had happened during the last hour, Will didn’t doubt that she’d go to court to sue for full custody. For one brief moment, he even wondered if that would be best for Blossom.
His family would never forgive him. And he wouldn’t forgive himself that he couldn’t make this one relationship work. Not to mention how much he’d miss the comforting solid weight of Blossom leaning into him, the way she’d grab his arm with her paw when he stopped with the belly rubs. The thorough tongue bath she gave his face every morning. Blossom wouldn’t do those things if she were unhappy to be with him, would she?
‘Will? Are you still there? Have you accidentally bum-dialled me? I hate it when that happens.’
‘Just touching base,’ he said, hiding behind the business jargon of his former life. ‘I think we need to take Blossom to a trainer.’
‘She’s been pulling on the lead, hasn’t she? I told you!’ Will had to allow Margot her smugness but only because he’d had an unpleasant shock and was off his game.
‘We’re both novice dog owners,’ he said. ‘Training will help us establish boundaries and ensure that Blossom is living her most optimal life.’
‘I’ve already established lots of boundaries with Blossom.’ Margot refused to see the severity of the situation. Then she sighed. ‘But the pulling is a problem and I would like to be able to let her off the lead . . .’
‘No! She’s never being let off the lead. Never!’ Will could hear the phantom squeal of brakes again.
‘Ha! You were the one who sent me an article quoting someone from the RSPCA who said that all dogs should have a certain amount of time off-lead exercise every day, depending on size and breed,’ Margot parroted. Then maybe she realised that she was plumbing new depths of being annoying because she stopped. ‘Let’s get her all trained up and see where we are. But positive reinforcement training, Will. I’m not paying someone to pin her to the ground to establish their dominance over her.’
Will was appalled. ‘I would never let anyone to do that to Blossom.’
‘Good, so why don’t I do some googling—’
‘I’ll do it,’ Will interrupted. ‘You already sorted out the vet and insurance.’
It was true. He’d been sharing peer-reviewed papers on pet ownership 24/7 but he’d let Margot do the grunt work.
‘Once I’ve found someone, I’ll text you the details,’ he added.
‘That would be great,’ Margot said eagerly. ‘Are you sure nothing’s happened; this is very out of character? You actually asked me how I felt about training, instead of telling me we were getting a trainer.’
‘There was an incident with a squirrel,’ Will admitted because he didn’t want to keep lying to her. Also, he hadn’t realised how controlling he’d been. It was shaping up to be a day of very unpleasant revelations. ‘Not sure either of us will ever recover.’
‘Did she nearly pull your shoulder out of its socket?’ Margot’s tone grew sympathetic. ‘I know what that feels like. You text me the training details and I’ll text you a link to these really great tiger balm patches. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
15
Margot
Margot followed several dog trainers on Instagram who were always posting pictures of the dogs under their guidance and showering them with praise in the captions. ‘Ziggy is only twelve weeks old and already toileting outside like the superstar he is.’ ‘Bagel has a well-earned rest after absolutely nailing her recall.’ Also, a lot of these sessions took place indoors. Margot was a big fan of doing things indoors when it was the end of October; it had been raining all week and she’d had to purchase a padded, waterproof anorak, which she was trying to style out, but thus far, it had defeated her.
Still, it was warm and had lots of pockets for all the essential items that hadn’t been essential a few weeks ago: poo bags, dog treats, anti-bacterial hand gel (those poo bags were awfully thin), a flashing LED light to clip onto Blossom’s collar when they walked home on the dark nights. And Margot’s new dog-walking anorak was perfect for their first training session on a Sunday morning in the middle of a North London park.
‘You didn’t think about one-on-one training, maybe, like, inside?’ she asked Will, trying hard to keep her voice light and not at all accusatory. Sunday mornings, if Margot managed to surface before noon, used to be about bottomless brunches with her friends and flicking through the Sunday supplements.
Will obviously hadn’t felt the need to buy a Dog-walking Anorak of Doom. He was wearing a navy pea coat, though it had capacious pockets, a grey woollen scarf tucked around the collar. His face was pinched and scrubbed pink in the scouring wind that whistled across the open space, but it just made his cheekbones even more pronounced.
‘At least it’s not raining,’ he said. ‘Note to self: next time I decide to take on a half-share in a dog, make sure that it’s during warmer weather.’
This was a different Will. It had been fifteen minutes since they’d met at the park entrance and found their way to a cordoned-off area next to the cricket pitch where dogs learned to be well-behaved. Fifteen minutes, and not once had Will made a sarcastic remark, or been terse to the point of rudeness. On the contrary, he’d made every effort to engage Margot in conversation, not that engaging her in conversation was ever difficult. As more than one of her exes had commented dourly, ‘You do love to talk, don’t you?’
Blossom was a little subdued now they’d arrived at their destination. She’d been far from subdued getting there though, yanking them this way and that every time she saw a squirrel. Margot had never realised how bountiful squirrels were in autumn, as they stored up food for winter and tormented dogs. One squirrel had even trolled Blossom by throwing a couple of mouldy acorns at her as they’d passed underneath a tree. Blossom, predictably, had then done a good impersonation of a demented hell beast.
She was hell-beasting now; snapping and snarling at any other dog that veered too close to them.
‘Did you find this place on Google?’ Margot asked Will. ‘’Cause, after you sent me the details, I couldn’t find it when I looked it up.’