Scamp nudged my leg with his wet nose and brought me back to the moment. I squatted down beside him and felt for his wiry ears.
‘You, on the other hand, Freddie …’ My voice came out as a croak. ‘You cracked it. All my memories of you are happy. All of them. You had a bloody short life, but you lived it to the max just as you wanted. But you got one thing wrong in your letter: you weren’t an ordinary man, Freddie, you were extraordinary. And I loved you.’
I felt in my pocket for a tissue. Scamp licked his lips hopefully. I gave him another treat.
‘What do I do, Freddie? Is my grief just a habit that I can kick? I hate feeling like this. I hate that every time I think I’m taking a step forward, I manage to take an even bigger one back. My emotions are up and down like a see-saw and I’ve cut myself off from most of my friends because I’m afraid of bringing the mood down. Even Maureen the crystal lady worked out that I’ve forgotten how to be happy. I feel like I’m stuck in a rut. I wish you were here to help me. Can’t you send me a sign? Like a robin landing on your headstone or the sun breaking through the crowds or something, so I know that you’re listening?’
Scamp retched and coughed up a ball of chewed grass and I grinned.
‘Not quite the symbolic gesture I was hoping for,’ I said, bending to stroke his head. ‘But it’ll have to do.’
The dog wagged his tail, proud of himself.
‘So that’s it, Freddie, I just wanted you to know that your letter has given me plenty to think about. I don’t know what comes next, but I do know that I don’t want to let you down. I’ll come and see you soon, tell you how I got on.’
I blew a kiss into the air and turned to leave but Scamp had lifted his back paw and tried to scratch his side.
‘Is that fleece irritating you?’ I said as he pivoted on the spot to reach his itch. I unpeeled the Velcro strap under his tummy and pulled it over his head. ‘Don’t tell Ethel I made you wear this.’
Scamp’s wiry eyebrows lifted at the sound of her name and he let out a gentle woof.
‘Ooh!’ I bent and kissed his nose. ‘That, my furry boy, is a very good idea indeed.’
A visit to Ethel’s care home was just what I needed.
‘Worst thing about being stuck in here is not having a proper cup and saucer,’ said Ethel, gazing with dismay at the two earthenware mugs I set down for us on the table. ‘Tea tastes better from bone china, and hotter.’
We were sitting in the reception area of The Beeches Care Home, she and Scamp in a large armchair and me on the end of an uncomfortable sofa. Thomas, the nice man behind the reception desk, caught my eye and smiled. He’d told me the first time I met him that most of the clients here weren’t happy unless they were moaning about something. It was visiting hour and people were coming and going all the time but nobody bothered us in our quiet corner.
‘But looking on the bright side,’ I said, pulling out a packet of chocolate digestives from my bag with a flourish, ‘there’s more room for dunking in a mug.’
I smiled to myself as Ethel’s eyes lit up. Before she’d had the fall which had put her in here, she’d been more or less housebound and I’d popped in regularly throughout the winter to have a cup of tea with her. There would always be biscuits set out on a plate and she had always polished off most of them while repeatedly saying she didn’t have much of an appetite these days.
‘Now you’re talking. What a treat. We only get plain ones here,’ she grumbled. ‘Chocolate makes a mess apparently and we get mugs because a cup and saucer makes double the amount of washing up. Efficiency rules in this place.’
‘There are worse things than efficiency,’ I pointed out, taking in all the spotless surfaces.
‘Humph,’ was Ethel’s only response to that.
Reception was the only part of the building where Scamp was allowed. I don’t know what either of the old companions would have done if he hadn’t been permitted entry at all. Ethel had been very low when she’d arrived two weeks ago after a stint in hospital. At that point she hadn’t seen her dog since the accident. I’d come over after work that same day with Scamp and pleaded with them to let her see him despite the ‘no dogs’ policy.
Their joyful reunion had had all of us in tears including the no-nonsense manager, Deidre. After that, it was clear to everyone that time spent with Scamp in her arms was the best medicine Ethel could possibly have. It was obvious that the staff at The Beeches put the residents’ happiness at the forefront of their care; and it put Ethel’s son and daughter’s minds at rest to know that Ethel was in good hands.
It was too chilly for Ethel to be outside at the moment, but when the weather picked up we’d be able to take him into the gardens. Assuming she was still in here of course; she could be back home by then.
Scamp was in seventh heaven. Despite his size, he was determined to cram as much of his body onto Ethel’s knees as he could. She insisted she wasn’t uncomfortable but I had a suspicion she’d gladly endure pain just to feel Scamp’s familiar warmth and inhale his doggy smell as though she was at home again.
‘But you’re all right, aren’t you,’ I said, sipping my tea. ‘You like it here?’
‘Move over, you bony beast,’ said Ethel, nudging Scamp out of the way as she reached for her mug. ‘I am perfectly fine, dear, thank you for asking. Despite being pushed and pulled and made to exercise every five minutes at my age.’
I suppressed a smile. ‘Do you mean your daily physiotherapy to help you stay mobile?’
‘I shouldn’t grumble, I suppose.’ Ethel sipped her tea and confided that although she wasn’t used to such a regimented life, she felt safer than she’d done in Pineapple Road, just knowing there was someone on hand if she fell.
She patted Scamp’s head fondly. ‘Feels a bit odd not having this old boy on my bed but …’
‘You told me he wasn’t allowed on the bed!’
‘Yes, well.’ She looked shifty. ‘He isn’t officially. But I can’t help it if he creeps up in the night. What about at your house then?’ She pursed her lips. ‘Sleep in his basket, does he?’
‘Sometimes,’ I replied.
We both laughed at my blatant lie.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, running her hand over his head. ‘I think I’ve adjusted well to captivity. The only downside to living here is that Scamp can’t join me. I do miss him.’
Her voice had gone a bit quavery, but I knew better than to draw attention to it. She was like me in that respect, didn’t always like to discuss her feelings. And of course she missed her constant companion. He’d only lived with me for a few weeks and already I knew that the house would feel empty without him.
‘Perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to go climbing on chairs in your bedroom.’ I raised my eyebrows sternly at her and offered her a biscuit.
She took two.
‘I was thinking of you. I wanted you to look at my photograph albums. The ones of George and me mountain climbing on the Continent. I thought I might inspire you to get out and see the world.’
‘Hmm, well, breaking your hip wasn’t very inspirational and I think that chair escapade might have put paid to your mountain climbing for good.’