Page 1 of Sassy & Sixty
THE RELUCTANT DOG WALKER
IT WASN’T that Rosie Brown didn’t love her new grandchildren with every beat of her heart. She adored them as much as she adored Mary, her only daughter. But at 63, she didn’t think she could cope with the pressures of looking after two bonkers toddlers who placed their sticky fingers all over her clothes from the moment they saw her, and insisted on kicking on her with such ferocity that she’d often go hobbling home feeling like she’d played a rugby match.
Despite being only a couple of years old, they seemed to have the combined strength of a silver-back gorilla.
She stood on her daughter's doorstep, finger hovering over the doorbell. The muffled wails of the tiny little people inside and a dog's excited yapping filtered through the pale blue door. She smoothed down her beige cardigan, took a deep breath, and pressed the bell.
The cacophony inside intensified. Rosie winced, wondering if she should have called first. But then, when did Mary ever answer her phone these days?
The door flew open, revealing Mary - or, rather, a dishevelled version of her usually put-together daughter. Mary’s hair was piled in a messy bun, dark circles shadowed her eyes, and wasthat... yes, that was definitely food on the side of her face and a teaspoon in her hair.
"Mum!" Mary's voice cracked with relief. "Thank God you're here. I was just about to call you."
Before Rosie could respond, a bundle of soft, golden fur launched itself at her knees.
"Elvis! No!" Mary grabbed for the excitable Cavapoo, but missed. The dog danced around Rosie's legs, leaving muddy paw prints on her crisp linen trousers.
She hadn’t even got into the house yet, and she already looked homeless.
"Oh, darling," Rosie sighed, bending to pat Elvis half-heartedly. "You look..."
"Like death warmed up?" Mary finished, attempting to wrangle Elvis back inside. "Trust me, I feel worse than I look. The twins have been up all night with colds. One cried, then the other one woke up and cried, then the first one cried again. Just when they’d gone back to sleep at 3am, Elvis decided it was the perfect time for a display of his barking prowess. Obviously that woke them both up again."
“Oh lord. That sounds tough. Where’s Ted?”
“He’s still away on this work trip. Come in, Mum. Sorry about the mess. I haven't had a chance to... well, do anything really."
Rosie stepped into the hallway, nearly tripping over a teetering stack of toddler paraphenalia. The house, which was never the tidiest place in the world, looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
In the living room, two bouncy baby chairs occupied centre stage. Stuffed animals formed a protective perimeter around them, as if warding off the encroaching chaos of discarded bottles, cloths and what appeared to be the entire contents of Mary's wardrobe.
Mary made a beeline for the chairs, scooping up a red-faced, wailing bundle from each. "Shh, shh," she cooed, bouncing them gently. "It's alright, my loves. Granny's here to see you."
Rosie's heart melted at the sight of her grandchildren. They had endured such a difficult start in life. Her beautiful daughter, Emily, had been kidnapped for the first few months of her life. Now they were all reunited, and doing well.But she knew her daughter had suffered a great deal and would probably never recover properly from the ordeal.
"Oh, aren't they precious," Rosie said. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I haven't slept in a month. That's because I haven't," Mary said, attempting to juggle both babies and pacify Elvis, who was now trying to climb up her leg. "I don't know how people do this, Mum. I feel like I'm drowning."
Rosie's maternal instincts kicked in. She was seriously out of practice, but she couldn't bear to see her daughter struggling like this. "Here, let me take one," she said, reaching for George, nestled in Mary's left arm.
"Thanks, Mum," Mary said, relief evident in her voice. "That's Daisy, the noisy one."
Rosie cradled Daisy, marvelling at how such a tiny being could simultaneously fill her with joy and terror. "There, there," she murmured, rocking gently. To Rosie’s surprise, Daisy's cries began to subside.
"How did you do that?" Mary asked, incredulous. "I've been trying to settle her for hours."
Rosie shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Just the magic touch, I suppose. Why don't you sit down? You look dead on your feet."
Mary collapsed onto the sofa, still bouncing George. "I don't know how much longer I can do this, Mum. Ted is away for another week, and I'm at my wit's end. I haven't showered indays, the house is a disaster, and don't even get me started on poor Elvis. I haven't walked him properly in ages."
As if understanding he was the topic of conversation, Elvis trotted over to Mary, head cocked to one side. He dropped a leash at her feet and looked up expectantly.
Mary groaned. "Oh, Elvis, not now. I'm sorry, boy, but I just can't."
Rosie watched as Mary's eyes filled with tears. She remembered those early days of motherhood - the bone-deep exhaustion, the feeling of being overwhelmed, the guilt that came with not being able to do it all. But she'd only had Mary to contend with. Twins and a dog? It was no wonder her daughter was at breaking point.
Before she could stop herself, Rosie heard herself say, "I could walk Elvis for you."
