Wellies and Westies by Cressida McLaughlin Page B

interested in any of it. ‘Curiosity killed the Cat. Curiosity killed that Cat.’ She said it over and over, like a mantra. She wished Polly was at home, or she at least had a dog to talk it over with. She was sure Disco would tell her exactly what to do.

Chapter 5
    It was two days until the party and Cat had spent hours rehearsing what she would say, how she would introduce herself and Pooch Promenade, imagining the photos they would show her of their under-walked Labradoodles, Pomeranians and Dalmatians. Since she’d been spending so much time in the fresh air, with no emails to respond to and only dogs for company, Cat had become a perpetual daydreamer. Which meant that all of her party scenarios ended with her in Mark’s arms, out on a beautiful fairy-lit pagoda in Jessica’s garden.
    She turned to say goodbye to Elsie, but she’d been daydreaming so hard that she hadn’t noticed the older woman put her coat on. ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘I’ve not been out today, and the doctor says I need to keep the knee moving if it’s going to recover properly.’
    ‘Doesn’t it hurt?’
    ‘There’s no gain without pain, Cat. Coming, Disco?’ Disco was at her feet like a shot, and Elsie deftly clipped the lead onto her collar. ‘Chalky?’ Chalky lifted his head, then placed it back on his front paws, his disinterest clear. ‘He’s getting old.’
    ‘You only notice that because you’ve got Disco. Hey –’ she put her arm round Elsie – ‘what’s wrong?’
    ‘Oh, nothing,’ Elsie muttered into her collar and gave a loud sniff. ‘He just reminds me that I’m getting old too.’

    ‘You are not. You’re the most sprightly fifty-year-old I know.’ She teased, even though Elsie was well into her seventies.
    Elsie smiled at her. ‘Flatterer. If I knocked twenty-years off your age you’d be eleven, and you wouldn’t be invited to the party at all. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door, then go to the end of the road and back.’
    Twilight had cloaked everything in shadow, the Victorian street lamps flickering on one by one, masking the stars that had begun to wink on in the night sky. The air was crisp and clean and Cat breathed it in, feeling a twist of excitement low down in her stomach. ‘Have you got your outfit sorted for Friday?’
    ‘Oh, shush. People my age don’t spend time worrying about what they’re going to wear.’
    ‘I don’t believe you. I’ll come round tomorrow and you can show me.’
    ‘Isn’t that something you want to do with Polly?’ They stopped outside number nine, and Cat ferreted in her bag for her keys.
    ‘Polly’s not coming. She’s got to work on Friday night. It’ll just be you and me, kid.’ She punched Elsie lightly on the shoulder. Disco yapped, her bark louder and fuller than it had been a few weeks ago, and gazed up at Cat. ‘Sorry, Disco,’ she said, ‘I don’t think dogs are invited. Apart from the Westies, of course.’
    ‘What about Joe, isn’t he coming?’
    ‘Coming to what?’ Joe stood in the doorway, blocking out the light from the hall. His hoody of the day was a faded terracotta, his sleeves rolled up to reveal long, slender forearms that reminded Cat just how toned the rest of his body was.
    ‘Jessica’s party,’ Cat blurted. ‘I’ve asked—’
    ‘Roughly seventeen times,’ added Joe.
    ‘And so far, the answer has been no.’
    ‘The answer will continue to be no until Saturday morning, when I might consider it.’ Joe looked down as Disco licked his bare feet. His face was devoid of expression, as if the dog’s touch had turned him to stone, but he didn’t step back. Cat realized she was holding her breath. She saw his jaw clench, then he sighed and shook his head. ‘Are you coming in? You’re letting all the heat out.’

    ‘You opened the door!’
    ‘And I can close it again.’ He moved backwards and Cat put her hand on the wood.
    ‘Hang on.’ She gave Elsie a quick hug, Disco a longer one and then waved them back