Fifteen
The snow had all but melted, with only glassy patches on paths less trodden and a bitter wind to make sure they stayed put. Despite this, Cathy decided to leave the house early for work again so she could take the canal path into the town. She’d left a mixing bowl of Myrtle’s Christmas cake steeping in the cupboard at home. Full of spices and rum, it had smelled divine and Cathy knew that the whole house would be filled with the same sweet, welcoming aroma by the time she got home. It smelled like Christmas, like warm evenings in front of the fire with eggnog or pudding wine and a wedge of rich fruit cake while snowflakes fluttered past the window. Of course, Cathy’s Christmas evenings would be nothing like that, but she wasn’t going to let that melancholy thought stop her from making the cake anyway. She might not have a family or husband to share it at home with, but she could take it to give out to her friends and that was almost as good.
The skies were leaden as she walked the path to work, and what was left of the foliage on trees was shaken loose by a brisk, freezing wind, carried off across the fields, or otherwise dumped into the black canal whenever there was a lull. At the far side of the canal, the fields were scrubby, stretching out to meet the outskirts of the town, and on her side, there was a narrow strip of greener land that bordered the grounds of the old textile mill, which seemed to stretch away for miles. Perhaps the people who had once owned the mill had planted the vast oaks and horse chestnuts that dotted the land now, or perhaps they’d just ended up there in the natural way of things, but there was far more tree coverage on this side of the canal than on the other.
Occasionally, Cathy would see the odd narrowboat, bright flowers painted on its side, moored up with little wreaths of smoke coming from stubby chimneys. Sometimes the occupants would be out on deck and they’d give a friendly smile or wave, and sometimes Cathy would see them warm and snug inside, sitting by their tiny windows. The canal wandered sedately through the outskirts of Linnetford and out into the countryside proper, sometimes beautiful and sometimes grimy, its banks dotted with pubs and locks, until it reached Manchester. At least that was where Cathy thought it stopped, though she didn’t know all that much about it other than what she’d learned at school – and even she had to accept that school was a very long way in her own past now.
She turned into a gentle bend and, as she saw a new vista open up ahead, noted a figure standing stock-still, seemingly gazing out across the canal and towards the town. He was bundled in a heavy woollen coat, Wellington boots and a charcoal-grey newsboy cap. A few feet away, a large black and tan dog raced up and down. Cathy smiled. She hadn’t planned her route into work this morning thinking that she might see him again, but she couldn’t deny that a small part of her had hoped for it. Yet it had seemed unlikely, because she’d walked this way so many times and never met him before. And here he was, as if it was meant to be.
Don’t be silly, she told herself. Things aren’t meant to be, not in real life.
But her step quickened anyway, even though she didn’t know what she was going to say when she got there or whether he’d even remember her from their brief interaction the other day.
He turned to look as she got closer.
‘Hello again,’ he said warmly.
‘Your dog looks like he doesn’t mind the cold,’ Cathy said.
‘With that much fur he could pull sledges,’ the man said. ‘Nothing bothers him – it’s me who has to stand here shivering while I wait for him to finish sniffing out rabbits.’
‘Oh,’ Cathy said, and she must have looked distressed at this because he quickly added: ‘Not that he ever catches any. He just likes to have a nosey. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, actually… he does try to catch them mid-air and eat them, but that’s another story.’
Cathy felt herself relax. He was joking with her; that was good, wasn’t it? And he was looking as if he liked what he saw… wasn’t he?
She chased the thought away. She was being utterly ridiculous – she didn’t know the first thing about him. For all she knew he was married, deliriously happy with ten kids. He was probably this friendly to everyone. Regardless, she only knew that she liked the way he looked at her, and that, try as she might, she couldn’t help but fall into his soft hazel eyes as soon as she gazed into them. There was something comforting rather than intimidating about his height and his broad shoulders, and even the way he was dressed did something to her that it shouldn’t.
She could allow herself a little fantasy, right? She didn’t know him but that didn’t stop her having a little indulgence, did it? She could pretend a handsome man was interested in her and who was that hurting?
‘You come this way every day?’ he asked.
‘Um, no, just to work. Only three days a week.’
‘So you work Mondays every week?’
‘Yes.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve only just started to bring Guinness here.’
Cathy frowned.
‘The dog,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘Daft name, I know, but it suits him.’
‘Oh, I thought he was called Guin?’
‘That’s because I can’t be bothered to shout out the entire thing. I have to call out his name so often to fetch him back from where he’s not supposed to be.’
Cathy smiled. ‘So where did you go before?’
‘We used to go to the fields at the back of the new Morrisons but they’ve started to build a car park there now. I was a bit nervous about coming down here with him – thought the daft beggar might jump into the canal – but he doesn’t seem that bothered about it after all. It’s a bit more of a walk for me but it’s good to have somewhere he can come off his leash for a while.’
‘Does he need a lot of exercise?’
‘He does. I work funny hours too so it’s hard sometimes to give him enough. My sister says I shouldn’t have got a dog in the first place if I couldn’t be there all the time. She’s probably right, but I couldn’t part with him now for anything.’
‘I suppose there are walking services and such?’ Cathy asked. ‘You could use one of those?’
‘I like to walk him myself – he’s a handful.’
Cathy glanced across at where Guin was digging, flinging clumps of earth up into the air behind him. There must have been some strength in those massive paws because the earth was frozen solid right now, but it didn’t seem to be troubling him at all.
‘He’s beautiful,’ she said.
‘Do you have a dog?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘I always wanted one but… well, it was a bit awkward to have one.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘It’s not always easy for everyone. I’m lucky I’ve got no one to answer to so I can do what I please.’
Cathy smiled and filed the information into a compartment labelled: figure out later what that means and if it’s good news for me.
‘I’d better get going,’ she said, wanting nothing more than to stay here all day and get to know him. But that might look weird, be unwanted, and it would definitely make her very late for work.
‘It was nice talking to you,’ he said, and Cathy couldn’t have controlled the little flutter in her stomach if she’d tried.