‘She’s my locum while we get married,’ Harry said, and Emily arched her eyebrows and smiled.
‘You haven’t set another date. I vote we get another locum.’
‘I like this one.’
‘Harry…’
‘I’ve got a broken leg.’ Harry stuck it out in front of him like show and tell. ‘I need help.’
‘So we hire someone else,’ Emily said.
‘Lizzie really needs to come home.’ Edward was back in patronising mode-already. Explaining things to someone who was a wee bit thick. ‘I thought the dog was about to deliver her pups any minute or I’d never have allowed her to stay.’
‘Hey,’ Lizzie broke in, incensed. ‘You’d never
‘When are you getting married?’ Emily asked, and Edward turned his full attention on Emily. Well, why not? You could see his reasoning in his face. Emily was looking exceedingly cute and Lizzie was looking a bit worse for wear. She’d never wear these clothes for Edward. He hated jeans. He hated sweatshirts.
But underneath…she was the same woman that he declared ten years ago he’d marry, and if there was one thing Edward didn’t do it was change his mind.
‘We’ll be married as soon as Lizzie agrees to a date,’ he told Emily. ‘My mother has it all planned.’
‘So has mine,’ Emily told him, warming to the theme closest to her heart. ‘Only Harry keeps being so difficult. I mean, if I have six bridesmaids then surely he can find six groomsmen.’
‘Mine’s the opposite problem.’ Edward dug his hands in his pockets-Careful, Lizzie thought, you’re spoiling the line of your suit-and flashed Lizzie a look of affection mixed with annoyance. ‘Lizzie doesn’t believe in bridesmaids.’
‘You don’t believe in bridesmaids?’ Harry said, looking up sharply.
‘All my friends hate chiffon,’ Lizzie told him. She was feeling as if things were getting away from her here. She made a huge effort. She’d been going out with Edward since medical school. Off and on. His devotion should surely be rewarded. Maybe she should start thinking seriously of marriage. ‘Maybe I could get Phoebe to carry the ring.’
‘She’d eat it,’ Harry said, and grinned.
It was the grin that did it every time. Right when she thought she had it together, out came that grin and she was lost.
There was no way she could marry Edward. Not when that grin existed in the world.
‘I’m sorry…’ she started, but there was another interruption. A woman, wearing stained overalls and Wellingtons, was standing at the hospital entrance, waving wildly. Kim. The vet.
And Lizzie’s thoughts flew straight back to Phoebe. It had been half an hour since she’d checked her. She shouldn’t have left. Kim had told her she’d go straight to the doctor’s quarters to check. What was she doing here?
‘What’s happening?’
Kim was standing in the entrance, reluctant to bring her filthy boots into the antiseptically clean hospital. ‘Didn’t you tell me Phoebe’s in your kitchen?’ she called.
‘Yes.’
‘I just went to check. The doors are shut but she’s not there. Her basket’s gone as well. Have you moved her somewhere else?’
Lizzie turned to Harry. ‘Did you…?’
But Harry was looking as puzzled as she was. ‘She was asleep by the stove ten minutes ago.’
‘It takes a crane to move her.’ Lizzie shook her head. ‘I need to-’
‘Lizzie, we need to talk,’ Edward said urgently, catching her arm, but she shrugged him off.
‘Medicine comes first, Edward, you know that. It’s the basis for our whole relationship. I have puppies to deliver-if I can find Phoebe. Talk to Emily about bridesmaids or something. Or how important it is to be a doctor’s partner.’
‘Liz…’
‘I’m sorry.’ She bit her lip, catching herself through her distress. ‘That was unfair. I’m just worried about Phoebe. If you’ll excuse me.’
And she left them staring after her as she headed for where her dog should have been.
She really was gone. Lizzie stared down at the corner by the stove where Phoebe had spent an ever-increasing amount of time over the past weeks. In those first days here the big basset had been frantic whenever Lizzie had left, as if somehow she’d sensed that Lizzie was her only contact with the beloved old lady who’d been her mistress. But gradually she’d settled. She liked Harry-she’d made that plain. She liked Lizzie. She liked the constant stream of locals who popped in to say hi and to Phoebe-sit. But gradually her girth had got the better of her and she’d subsided into her basket and watched the world with the increasingly introspective gaze of all expectant mums.
When Lizzie had lifted her off the bed in the middle of the night, she’d waddled out here. This morning Lizzie had looked at her and had thought Phoebe wouldn’t move until the puppies were born.
So where was she?
‘Maybe she’s gone outside to find somewhere more private.’ Kim was right behind her, sensing her fright. ‘Lizzie, dogs often do that. They decide for themselves where they’re going to pup.’
‘I’d believe that,’ Lizzie said, still staring at the corner, ‘but she’d hardly have hauled her basket with her.’
Silence. There was a soft thud, thud behind them and Harry was right there. His crutch was making his arrival distinct.
‘Where the hell-?’
‘What have you done with Emily and Edward?’ Lizzie demanded, momentarily distracted, and Harry shrugged.
‘They’re talking weddings. I think they’ve hit a vein. They’ve tapped into something more important than world hunger. Where’s Phoebe?’
‘She’s gone,’ Lizzie said blankly, but Harry was already looking closely at the kitchen floor. Then bending to look closer.
‘The basket’s been dragged out the door. Look.’
The floor was made of polished boards. The boards gathered dust fast and no one had swept that morning. The trail where something had been pulled across the floor was clearly visible and on the edge of the screen door a splinter had jagged the edge of the blue cotton basket, leaving a sliver of material still attached.
‘Why would Phoebe drag her basket-?’
‘She wouldn’t,’ Kim said. The vet was starting to look concerned. ‘Not that I’m casting aspersions on your dog’s intelligence, Lizzie, but to figure she’d go somewhere else to have the pups and think about taking her bed with her…that’d take at least two neurons.’
‘Which is one more than Phoebe’s got,’ Harry added, but he wasn’t smiling.
‘So someone’s dragged her basket…’
‘With Phoebe in it, at a guess. I mean, otherwise they could just have picked up the basket.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ Lizzie said faintly. ‘Who’d steal a basset?’
They stared at each other uncomprehendingly.
‘She’s not even a pedigree,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘Grandma found her when she was six months old. She reckoned someone pushed her out of a moving car. No one wants Phoebe.’
‘She’s mostly basset,’ Kim said. ‘But that tail…there’s something else there.’
‘It’s a cute tail,’ Lizzie muttered, and Harry’s arm was suddenly round her shoulders.
‘It’s a great tail. The fact that it’d look better on a Dalmatian is immaterial. Look, what have we got here? One lost dog? One stolen dog? Neither makes sense. My bet is that someone like Jim has come in and decided that Phoebe shouldn’t be alone. They’ll have taken her home to watch over her.’
Lizzie brightened. Harry being right beside her was enough to make any girl’s mood lift, and what he was saying was sensible. Dog-nappers didn’t make sense.
But… ‘Jim wouldn’t have dragged the basket,’ she objected.
‘If Phoebe wouldn’t move and he wanted to shift her, I’d imagine he might well have dragged the basket. Do
