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Smith's BMW convertible and zoom off down the road. Perhaps he was taking her to the railway station. |
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The puppy began to eat my T-shirt. He was so adorable. I cuddled him closer. I had never met Nick Henderson but surely he realised what a mistake it was to buy Annabel a puppy. A bit like buying Naomi Campbell gardening gloves. |
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* * * |
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I saw a lot of Liquorice, as I named him, during that summer. We would go for long walks through the fields and woods surrounding the village, Liquorice chasing the rabbits, me singing along to Pavarotti on my iPod. We hardly saw a soul. Until, one day … |
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“Oy!” yelled a gruff voice. “Get off!” |
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I pulled away my headphones and warily looked round. Across the adjoining field, neatly striped with transparent polythene, bounded an ungainly black Labrador. Behind, puffing and wheezing, bounded an ungainly fat farmer. |
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My heart sank as Liquorice collided with my bare legs and sat lopsidedly on my sandals. “What have you done now?” |
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Liquorice grinned unashamedly, tongue lolling to the ground. |
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The farmer finally caught up. “Is that your dog?” |
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“Oh no,” I replied truthfully, then realised the farmer was staring at the dog lead draped conspicuously around my neck. |
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“I’ve got sweet corn germinating underneath that polythene,” he said, scowling at Liquorice, who gazed blithely back. “And it was growing beautifully until your dog did the Boston two-step all over it.” |
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“How awful,” I said, remembering how important it was to look people in the eye when you told fibs. “I wonder whom the dog belongs to … ” I began to warm to my theme. “I know, I’ll take him back to the village and see if I can find out. It’s on my way.” |
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The Farmer opened his mouth but I replaced my headphones and turned abruptly towards to the village. Liquorice bounded happily ahead, already out of sight. |
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“Ow!” yelled another male voice. “Get off!” |
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My heart slumped into my sandals. Perhaps if I walked away, very fast ... |
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“Does this dog belong to you?” |
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I slowly looked up, gazing into the furious green eyes of the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was wearing a blue running vest and shorts. Liquorice, who had always had a weakness for joggers, had finally caught one. |
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“Oh no, the dog's nothing to do with me,” I lied. I was getting rather good at it. |
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Liquorice, bored of his game, released the jogger and came to sit on my foot. |
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Short Story |