He’d been furious at the time, but her words had sunk in. He’d kept his supermarket checkout job at evenings and weekends, but he’d done his A levels and been accepted at university. Become a doctor. Made that difference to his own life. He’d stayed in touch with Elspeth, and although she’d died before his graduation she’d left him a congratulations card and written that she thought he could change the world and she was proud of him.
He still hadn’t completely connected with anyone, though. He’d tried so hard to love Zoe the way she wanted to be loved; despite all the effort, he’d failed.
Fixing patients, he could do.
Emotional stuff...that was another matter. He didn’t have the skill set.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said awkwardly, wanting to help but not knowing how.
She scrubbed a hand across her face. ‘You can’t always get what you want. I have a lot to be thankful for. I have my family, a job I love, good friends. I don’t have to worry about whether I can pay the rent or afford to eat. Wanting more’s just greedy.’
‘Sometimes we all want more,’ he said. ‘Um, I’ll make you a coffee.’
‘It’s fine. I need to get to work.’
A safe place, where she wouldn’t have to think about her anniversary because she’d be busy helping patients. It was how he’d used work too ever since he and Zoe had split up.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said.
But she was quiet all weekend. And every time Ryan thought about giving her a hug, he remembered her words. ‘I never thought I’d be a widow at thirty. I thought I’d be a mum.’
He wanted her, but he didn’t want to let her down. How could he get this to work? But, every time he thought about it, he came up blank.
On Wednesday, Georgie had the day off. She spent the morning cleaning, then nipped down to the farm shop to buy bread and stayed chatting with Janie for a bit. But, when she got back to the cottage, the patter of paws and waggy tail she was used to was missing.
‘Truffle?’ she called.
The house was silent.
Ryan was on an early shift. No way would he have come home halfway through it and taken Truffle out. So where on earth was the dog?
The stair gate was in place, so it wasn’t likely the Labrador had gone upstairs.
And then she heard a creak.
The back door was open. Obviously she hadn’t shut it properly and Truffle had gone into the garden. Except, when she looked outside, the dog wasn’t there. ‘Truffle,’ she called. ‘Here, girl.’
Nothing.
And there was a pile of dirt by the corner of the fence, along with a hole big enough for a large dog to squeeze through...
Oh, no. No, no, no.
It looked as if the dog had dug her way out of the garden. Ryan had said she was an absconder, and here was the proof.
‘Truffle!’ she yelled, hoping that she was wrong and the dog would appear from round the corner.
Still no response.
How did you get a dog to come back? When Truffle had disappeared to play with another dog on the beach, Ryan had given her slices of cocktail sausage when she’d come back.
OK. Sausage it was. Georgie ran to the fridge and took out Ryan’s box of treats. ‘Truffle,’ she called. ‘Sausage!’ She rattled the box, and then opened it on the grounds that dogs had a brilliant sense of smell and Truffle would know there were treats on offer and come to get them.
But the dog didn’t appear.
Oh, God. She’d lost Ryan’s dog. She didn’t even know where to begin looking for Truffle. And she didn’t know the countryside around here well enough to know where the dog might have been most likely to head for. Panicking, she called the ward.
‘Is Ryan there, please?’ she asked. ‘It’s an emergency.’
What seemed like ten years later, Ryan came to the phone. ‘What’s the emergency?’ he asked.
‘It’s Truffle. I went down to Janie’s and I must’ve not shut the back door properly. There’s a hole by the fence and I think she’s tunnelled out of the garden. I can’t see her anywhere and I’ve called and called and I’ve offered sausage and—’
‘Stop gabbling and breathe,’ he cut in. ‘You’re quite sure she’s not there?’
‘I’m sure. Where do I start looking for her?’
‘You don’t,’ he said. ‘Stay where you are and I’ll go and find her.’ He banged the phone down.
This was all her fault. And if the dog was hurt, or had been hit by a car and was...
Oh, God. She cut the thought off, feeling sick to her stomach. If Truffle was injured or worse, she’d never forgive herself.
Not knowing what to do, but feeling that she had to do something, she put her phone on charge, put the kettle on to make a flask of coffee and stuffed a first aid kit and a towel into a waterproof bag, together with a torch and a bottle of water and the box of sausage slices. Then she laced up her hiking boots and got her coat ready.
Ryan was back at the cottage sooner than she’d expected, which told her that he must’ve broken the speed limit all the way back from the city.
‘Ryan, I’m s—’ she began.
‘Save it. I need to find my dog.’ His face was a mask of suppressed anger and worry.
‘I’ll go with you. I’ve got a bag. A towel, first aid kit, coffee, water. My phone.’
‘Half the time there isn’t a signal out there.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll—’
‘Save it,’ he said again.
‘Look, I know you’re furious with me and don’t want me around, and I hate myself for being so careless with her, but two pairs of eyes are better than one when you’re looking,’ she said. ‘I can’t just stay here doing nothing. Let me come with you.’
He scowled at her; but then, to her relief, he nodded.
Please let Truffle be
