She continued to talk to Blossom in a soft, calm voice. ‘It’s OK to be frightened, Blossom. There are times, lots of times, when I feel like crawling into a bush too. But then I remember that there are people who love me . . . OK, it’s only friend love, but you have to take what you can get.’
‘Um, I have freshly cooked bacon.’ Margot swivelled round to see Will standing there with a discomfited expression and a Styrofoam container. ‘I got you some water too. Any change?’
‘She’s not panting quite so much. Shall we see if her greed overcomes her fear?’
‘I’m crossing everything.’ Will sat down next to Margot and handed her the takeaway box.
Even Margot’s mouth watered at the scent of freshly fried bacon. She held a piece as near to Blossom as she could. ‘Come on, Blossom, you love bacon.’
There was a rustle of leaves as Blossom’s snout came forward, but when Margot tried to touch her, she retreated.
‘Why don’t you put the bacon on the ground next to her?’ Will suggested. After a heart-stopping few minutes – Margot even contemplated phoning Jim for help – Blossom emerged from the bush just enough that she could quickly gobble up the bacon. Then she sat there behind the bench, still panting.
If only there was a way to let her know that she was safe, Margot thought. Then she had an idea. ‘Don’t judge me for what I’m about do,’ she said to Will. ‘Because let’s not forget that you now refer to yourself as co-pawrent without any shame.’
‘We’ve been through this before. I’m ashamed on the inside,’ Will said with barely any trace of his usual snark. ‘What are you about to do?’
What Margot did every night when she put Blossom to bed. She’d tuck a fleece blanket around the dog, stroke down her back with a slow, steady hand, then sing a lullaby to the tune of ‘Little Donkey’; Blossom was usually asleep before Margot had got through one verse. Obviously, she was going to have to modify the lyrics a little bit, which were already cloyingly sentimental but the circumstances were truly exceptional.
‘Little Blossom, Little Blossom, time to come out now
Mummy loves you, so does Daddy, you’re their precious girl.’
No one, not even the most besotted of lovers, could ever say that Margot had a good voice, but she could carry a tune, mostly, and anyway, it wasn’t as if Blossom was Simon Cowell. But Blossom also knew that when Margot sang to her, it meant that she was safe, she was loved, she could go to sleep thinking only happy thoughts.
Now when Margot sang to her, it must have summoned up the same feelings of protection, of being loved, because she inched herself out of her little nook and crawled into Margot’s lap.
‘There she is,’ Margot breathed, her arms wrapping around the still shaking dog. ‘There’s my girl.’
She kissed the top of Blossom’s head, and when Blossom didn’t flinch, Margot smothered her face with kisses.
‘She has scratches on her belly from the bush,’ Will said in a strangulated voice. ‘I’ll move away so I don’t freak her out again.’
Blossom’s shakes had begun to subside, and she was just as much Will’s girl as she was Margot’s.
‘You’re not going to freak her out,’ Margot said firmly. ‘Just stroke the top of her head with your fingers and see what she does.’
Will looked like Margot had just asked him to dip his hand in hydrochloric acid, but he brought the tips of his fingers towards Blossom and made contact with her moleskin softness as he traced along her head.
Blossom tried to lick him.
Will’s sigh was as loud as the March wind that had picked up since they’d been sitting there. Margot had thought that her legs were numb, but when Blossom decided that she’d much prefer to sit on Will’s lap and trod on Margot’s thighs to get there, she realised they were still capable of feeling pain.
‘We’re friends again, then?’
It was a rhetorical question because Blossom was licking every bit of Will’s face that she could reach; normal service had resumed.
32
Will
Blossom ate all the bacon and drank half a bottle of water from Will’s cupped hands but was too weak to walk home.
Every time they took a few steps, she’d sit down and hang her head sadly.
‘I know how she feels,’ Margot said, rubbing her own legs. ‘My arse is never going to be the same after an hour sitting on cold tarmac.’
Usually when Will saw Margot she was bundled up in what she called the Dog-Walking Anorak Of Doom or wearing one of the many dresses she owned that covered her from neck to mid-calf. But today, she was wearing workout clothes. Tight leggings with mesh panels so he was tormented with glimpses of Margot’s skin. On top, she was wearing a vest that insisted ‘On Wednesdays We Smash The Patriarchy’, which was loose enough and low cut enough that Will was also tormented by glimpses of a sturdy sports bra. He’d never appreciated what an erotic garment it could be.
‘You should zip up your hoodie,’ he said, taking hold of the bottom of the grey marl hoodie that wasn’t doing a very good job of what it was meant to be doing; covering up all of Margot that had been hidden up until now. With hands that weren’t working very well, he managed to do the zip up himself. ‘You’ll catch a cold.’
‘Yes, Dad,’ Margot said smartly. Will really hoped that wasn’t the way she saw him. ‘Come on, Blossom. Quicker you move, quicker you’ll be home.’
Blossom got to her feet, staggered a few more paces, then collapsed again.
‘She’s been through a lot. No wonder she’s exhausted.’ Will was exhausted himself. He gave an anticipatory sigh, then bent down to pick Blossom up. ‘If I end the day without a hernia, it will be a miracle.’
‘I would say that we should take turns to carry her, but I have no upper-body strength,’ Margot said cheerfully. She rubbed her thighs again, though Will wished that she wouldn’t because he couldn’t help but follow the motion of her hands with his eyes. ‘No lower-body strength, either. I’m a very puny being.’
‘Hardly puny,’ Will said, though he still worked out regularly and yet he was struggling with eighteen kilograms of dead weight in his arms. ‘Haven’t you got a sweatshirt that says you’re a member of the Strong Girls Club?’
Margot grinned. ‘False advertising.’
Now that all the Sturm und Drang was over, Will had time to replay what had happened, to take stock and focus on the tangential. ‘You were saying to Blossom about friend love . . . about how it was better than nothing.’
There was a moment of exquisite silence. Then Margot shrugged. ‘Was I? I don’t remember.’
Will felt compelled to persist in the face of zero encouragement. ‘The internet dating isn’t going well, then? You’re still looking for love?’
Margot sighed. She opened her mouth then shut it. Sighed again, as if she was regretting this conversation almost as much as Will. ‘I’m not looking for love,’ she said, which was a bit of a curveball. What was she looking for then? ‘I’m looking for a nice man, who can handle his drink, isn’t bankrupt – he doesn’t even have to have all his own teeth – who’s ready to settle down and start a family.’