Then there were the final promises. ‘So, Will, do you take Margot to be your wife?’
Will had never meant two words as much as the ‘I do’ he said quietly to Margot.
‘And Margot, do you take Will to be your hus—?’ Derek asked.
‘Yes, yes, I do!’ Margot said before Derek had even finished the question.
‘And Blossom, do you take these two chancers to be your legally wedded pawrents?’
Blossom looked up with a huge grin on her face at the mention of her name. Will picked her up so that Derek could take her paw and Margot said, ‘I do,’ in the squeaky cockney accent that they’d both decided would be Blossom’s voice if she were able to speak.
‘Then I pronounce you husband, wife and doggo,’ Derek announced to whoops and cheers.
Later there’d be photos, including a picture of Will, Margot and Blossom, with all forty-seven of their canine guests, which would go viral when it was simultaneously posted on the Blooms’, Ivy+Pearl and rescue centre Instagram accounts with the caption ‘Happy life, Will, Margot and Blossom. We wish you unconditional love, laughter and belly rubs. #relationshipgoals.’
There’d also be a slow, ceremonial walk down Shepherd’s Hill to the pub that Blossom had wandered into all those months before where they’d dine on spaghetti Bolognese. There’d be toasts, speeches and dancing, then they’d get the bus home because what was the point of spending all that money on wedding cars?
But before all that, there was Will and Margot sealing their promises with a kiss, while Blossom, still in Will’s arms, enthusiastically licked their faces.
At last the three of them were a family.
(Which had been Blossom’s intention right from the start.)
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Thanks
As the Beach Boys once sang, you need a mess of help to stand alone and I owe so much gratitude to the cast of (not quite) thousands who willed Rescue Me into being.
Huge and heartfelt thanks to my agent, the incomparable Becky Ritchie who always has faith in me even when I don’t have faith in myself, Alexandra McNicoll rights queen, Prema Raj and all at AM Heath.
I’m so happy that Rescue Me found a home at Hodder and that Kimberley Atkins has enthusiastically and skilfully helped me turn it into the book that I always knew it could be. (Even if you did turn out to be a cat person, Kim.) Also, huge thanks to Amy Batley for her unflappable organisational skills, Callie Robertson for marvellous marketing and Veronique Norton for publicity. Natalie Young for copyediting, Kay Gale for proof-reading. Big thanks also due to Joanne Myler for designing the beautiful cover of Rescue Me and Abbey Lossing for the wonderful illustration.
I’m very fortunate to have so many writer friends who cheered me on through the lonely process of writing a book out of contract. I don’t know where I’d be without Kate Hodges, the Lady Novelists Posh Lunch, High Tea and What’s App Association. Ditto the Lord Peter Wimsey Casting Suggestions Lunch Club and The Wahaca Scrabble Ladies, especially Cari Rosen who often FORCED me to play Words With Friends when I should have been writing.
I’m also very fortunate to have Sarah Bailey, Jackie Hunter and Lesley Lawson in my life who never mind me jawing on about novelling, though it must be very boring for them.
Finally, no one tells you that when you get a dog you’ll meet some pretty amazing people while you’re out walking that dog. Eileen Coulter, I will always be grateful for that one day when Betsy and I bumped into you and Eric in Coldfall Woods.
In Memoriam
Miss Betsy 2009 to May 16th 2018
‘You can’t buy love, but you can rescue it.’
Six days after my father died, I was rescued by a little Staffordshire Bull Terrier called Miss Betsy (née Blossom.)
Betsy had been picked up as a stray several days after giving birth. Although she was roughly three years old, the vets said that she’d already had four or five litters. She was covered in bald patches and despite the fact that she still looked pregnant, you could see every one of her ribs.
She was broken, but I was kind of broken too and together we would heal. Right? Wrong! A thousand times wrong! The first six months with Betsy were an absolute nightmare. She went from shut down and submissive to holy terror; this book isn’t so much a work of fiction but a faithful account of those long, long days when I thought to myself, ‘Christ, what have I done?’ as Betsy pulled on the lead, went berserkers if another dog came too close to her and yes, nearly got run over at Ally Pally when she chased a squirrel across the road.
But with a lot of patience, training and belly rubs, Betsy transformed into the dog that she was always meant to be. It was one of the most meaningful and rewarding experiences of my life to see Betsy become a smart, imperious, hilarious, very melodramatic little madam with an endless capacity for love and peanut butter treats.
For six years Betsy was my little velvet house hippo, the beat of my heart, and I’m so grateful to All Dogs Matter, a North London rehoming and dog rescue charity, who liberated Betsy from a council pound and brought us together.
Rescue Me, more than anything, is a love letter. Not just to Betsy, but to all those dogs who have been abandoned, neglected and abused but never lose their ability to forgive and to love again.
Sarra Manning, London
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