Wellies and Westies by Cressida McLaughlin Page A

colours, anything you want to avoid?’
    ‘Just…not too bright. And not too fussy. Or…’ Cat shrugged hopelessly. ‘It’s been a long time since I picked out a dress.’
    ‘Then you’ve come to the right place. Let’s start over here. I think some of these could really suit your taller frame. I’m Carol, by the way.’
    Half an hour later Cat was strolling back to Primrose Terrace, holding tightly onto the cord handles of the thick cardboard bag containing her party dress. It was a black flapper dress with gold beading and a low, V neckline, the tassels finishing at the knee. It was stylish and stand-out, but not too obvious. Cat felt unusually elated at the thought of getting dressed up instead of being ankle deep in wagging tails. As she walked, she took a peek into the bag, at the pale blue tissue paper Carol had wrapped carefully round the thin fabric, and marvelled again at how lucky she had been to find the dress. Her reverie was sharply interrupted when she found herself being pushed backwards, firm hands on her upper arms.
    Cat gasped and looked straight into the dark, amused eyes of Mark. ‘Steady.’
    ‘S-sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I wasn’t watching where I was going.’
    ‘Clearly. It’s a good thing it was me you bumped into and not a woman.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Your forehead was aiming for here.’ He pointed at his chest, which was covered by a grey T-shirt, his leather jacket open. ‘Quite a good impression of a charging bull – a dainty one, of course.’

    ‘A bull?’ She felt her cheeks burn, realizing how obvious she was, skipping back from town with a posh boutique bag. She felt like a teenager.
    ‘I did say dainty.’
    ‘How’s Chips?’
    ‘Pining. She’s livid that I’ve come into town without her. I’ve been thinking about your offer.’ He raised an eyebrow.
    ‘My offer?’ Cat scanned her memory, her heartbeat quickening. She hadn’t said any of those things out loud – had she?
    He held her gaze, his eyes fixed so firmly on hers that she started to fidget. ‘To walk Chips.’
    ‘Oh, that offer. Of course, but I thought you didn’t need me – my services, my…’ She shook her head, her cheeks flaming at the thoughts that had been running through her head. ‘Pooch Promenade.’
    He looked away. ‘It seems I might have to go back to London for a couple of days. Unexpectedly.’
    He didn’t sound thrilled and Cat thought of George. Maybe Mark was a Spooky after all. ‘I can take care of her.’
    ‘I know. Thank you.’ He squeezed her hand quickly, and Cat shuddered as his touch sent a thrill through her, all the way to her toes. ‘It could turn out to be exactly what I need.’
    ‘Sure,’ she said quietly. She could see flecks of green in his brown eyes, the direction of the hairs in his stubble, and it seemed that, for that moment, he was scrutinizing her as much as she was him. She felt breathless.
    ‘Anyway,’ he said, breaking the spell, ‘I’d better…’
    ‘Of course, right.’
    ‘We should take things off the pavement next time. Go for a coffee.’
    ‘I’d like that. It was nice to…bump into you.’

    He grinned, walked past her and then turned back. ‘For Friday night?’ He pointed at her bag. ‘Looking forward to seeing you there. I’ve heard Jessica’s parties can be on the wild side.’ He widened his eyes in mock horror, turned away and strode up the road, leaving Cat flummoxed. She wouldn’t be surprised if Carol was in his spook network, and he was on his way to find out exactly what dress she’d bought.
    He’d confirmed that he knew Jessica well enough to be invited to her party, but how well? And was he flirting with Cat just so she’d look after Chips, or was there more to it? Did he have to go back to London unexpectedly on official spy business? Cat shook her head – she couldn’t let George’s madness infect her.
    She had new information, but she also had more questions, and, more importantly, she wasn’t meant to be