Alison Roberts - From Heartache To Forever / Melting The Trauma Doc's Heart

‘Oh, poppet. What a mess you’re in. Who are you? What are you doing here?’

It crept closer still, until it was resting up against his hip, its head heavy on his lap, and his hand slid down and felt ribs sticking out, and the bumps of its spine. It must be starving. ‘Are you hungry? Is that the matter?’

The dog got to its feet, tail wagging, and he got up and headed inside, the dog running ahead through the sitting room door to leap onto his brand new sofa.

‘Hey! No! Get off that!’

It wagged its tail, tongue lolling, still on the sofa as if it owned it, and everything fell into place.

He let out a rueful laugh. ‘You live here, don’t you? This is your house.’

The tail thumped, and he shook his head.

‘Get off my sofa. I don’t care how cute you are, you stink and you’re covered in mud. Come here, let’s find you some food and then work out what to do with you.’ He headed into the kitchen, and the dog followed, standing up on its back legs and peering at the worktop hopefully, tail lashing.

‘Dog! You have absolutely no manners! Sit!’

Paws dropped to the floor, and the dog sat and whined at him pitifully. He tried hard not to laugh, and pulled open the pantry to find the things he’d raided from his mother yesterday.

‘Right, what have we got here? Tuna. Do you like tuna? I guess you like anything. Tuna sandwich? Yup? Just don’t tell the vet.’

He drained the spring water off the tuna and mashed it between two slices of wholemeal bread, and then chopped them roughly, put them in a bowl Beth had found in the box and dumped it on the floor.

‘Well, that went down OK,’ he said with a chuckle, and shook his head slowly. ‘Dog, you need a bath, and a serious haircut. You’re the scruffiest thing I’ve ever seen.’

He put some water down in another bowl, but after a couple of slurps it gave up and came back to him, wuffing hopefully.

Still hungry. He had some ridiculously expensive peanut butter with no added anything, so he smeared a little dollop on another bit of bread and gave it to him. Her? He didn’t even know, but that was the least of his worries.

The smell, however…

He called Beth.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you. Are you still up?’

‘Yes. What’s the matter? Is the bed awful? Don’t tell me it fell to pieces—’

‘I haven’t got that far. Do you have any very mild shampoo and conditioner? And a brush you don’t care about, and a pair of scissors with blunt ends? Oh, and a hair dryer. And old towels. Lots of them.’

He heard a slightly choked noise, like a strangled laugh. ‘OK, what’s going on?’

‘You know the house smelt of dog? Well, it’s come back.’

‘The smell?’

‘No—well, yes, but on the dog. The dog came back, I have no idea where from, but whoever it belongs to, it’s in urgent need of a bath. I think it’s been in the river.’

She chuckled. ‘I’ll be right round.’

‘I’m glad you think it’s funny. Wear something scruffy.’

He heard another laugh as the line went dead, and he slid his phone into his pocket with a smile on his face and turned back to the dog, just in time to see it sneaking back onto the sofa, a stolen banana in its mouth…

‘Oh, my word.’

‘You have a habit of walking in here and saying that,’ he said drily, and she chuckled and eyed him up and down.

‘Well, you are covered in mud. So where is it?’

‘In the conservatory. I had to banish it. It jumped on the sofa with a banana it stole off the side in the kitchen.’

She felt her eyes widen. ‘Your new sofa, that you haven’t even sat on for more than ten seconds?’

His mouth quirked. ‘That’s the one.’

She bit her lips, trying really, really hard not to laugh. ‘Oh, dear. Good job it’s leather, at least it’ll wipe clean. Well, let’s see this thing, then.’

‘This thing’ turned out to be a clump of tangled, matted fur on gangly legs, but one swipe of its tongue on her outstretched hand and she was smitten.

‘Oh, dear. You are really, really muddy, poppet. I wonder what colour you are?’

‘Goodness knows. I have no idea where to start.’

She laughed and shoved up her sleeves. ‘Water, I think. A lot of water. Have you got a plastic jug or bowl or something we can mix the shampoo in?’

It took an hour, but finally the dog was bathed, then bathed again, and it turned out to be a dull, creamy grey, although that might have been the remnants of the river mud. They cut the matted hair away around its ears and neck, and then turned their attention to its body.

‘Well, little lady, you’re a girl,’ he said softly, clipping clumps off carefully around her armpits as she lolled on her back in the kitchen, tongue hanging out and all but grinning at him. ‘I wonder what your name is, you tatty old thing?’

He sat back on his heels, studied the dog for a moment and grinned. ‘Tatty. Perfect. And we can always call you Tatiana if we’re trying to be posh.’

We? Where had that come from?

‘You don’t need to name her, Ryan. You don’t even know whose she is,’ Beth pointed out gently, and he felt a sudden sense of anti-climax.

‘No. No, you’re right, I don’t,’ he said, coming down to earth with a bump. ‘I wonder if she’s microchipped?’

‘The neighbours might recognise her. Have you met any of them yet?’

‘No, not yet,’ he said, looking up from his clipping to meet her eyes. ‘I haven’t really had a chance.’ He looked down into the dog’s trusting eyes and sighed. ‘And you’re right, I don’t need to give her a name because I can’t keep her, can I? Even if she does think I’ve bought a new sofa especially for her.’

It was an odd thought, and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he had to be realistic. How could he keep her? He worked ridiculous hours and he lived alone. It simply wasn’t fair.

But then she licked his hand, and his heart wrenched.

‘You can’t, Ry.’

He looked up at the softly voiced words. ‘Can’t what?’

‘Keep her. You can’t keep her.’

He stroked the damp head with its appalling haircut, looked into the melting dark eyes and felt like a traitor.

‘Let’s worry about that tomorrow,’ he said hastily. ‘For now, I have to find her somewhere to sleep, and you need to go home.’

He got to his feet, walked her to the door and hugged her hard.

‘Thank you so much,’ he mumbled into hair that smelt vaguely of river mud. ‘I couldn’t have done that on my own.’

‘Don’t thank me. It’s not like it’s your dog.’

That pang again.

‘Yeah, you’re right, although I’d stake my life she belongs to the tenants. She needs to go to the vet to see if she’s microchipped. Goodness knows when I’ll fit that in.’

‘I can do it. I don’t start work until tomorrow lunchtime. If you give me the key again I can pick her up and take her.’

‘I don’t know any vets. I don’t know any anything here. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘I’ll ask Annie Shackleton. They’ve got a dog, she’ll tell me everything I need to know.’

He shook his head, then gave in, because something needed to be done with the dog, whatever. ‘Here—the spare key. You might as well keep it,’ he said, suppressing the thought that it felt vaguely symbolic. ‘I’ll leave her in the conservatory when I go, so if you could put her back there afterwards that would be great. There’s nothing there she can trash. You’ll need a collar and lead to take her, though, if your friend’s got one.’