Pressing her lips together, Paige said, ‘See you later.’
‘Maybe for the walk next week?’
Dorry did not give up. ‘Maybe. If the weather’s better.’
Paige returned her attention to the beach front as Dorry joined her girl gang. The poor mutt looked like such a forlorn figure on the freezing deserted beach, amusing himself in the hideous weather. Sighing, Paige wrapped the second scone she hadn’t got around to plying in jam and cream in a paper napkin and shoved it in her jacket pocket.
Quickly downing the last of her tea, she stood. ‘Bye ladies, bye Jiya.’
Everyone bade her goodbye and despite every sensibility she owned warning her not to go down to the beach and possibly catch her death like some nineteenth-century romance heroine, Paige’s feet took her there anyway.
She probably shouldn’t be engaging with a stray dog but considering how sedentary her job was, she coulddefinitelydo with a spot ofbracingair.
Flipping up her hood on her Red-Riding-Hood-esque cape she’d found at a charity shop, Paige hunched into her coat beneath, her fingers wrapping around the scone in the left pocket.
Stepping onto the sand, she immediately noticed, despite the harbour being relatively calm, the flotsam and jetsam of the churning sea deposited on the shore. Twisted piles of dense, wet seaweed, the odd plastic bottle, gnarly driftwood, bits of old tangled fishing net and an array of shells were scattered in haphazard abandon.
It was as if the ocean had been tipped upside down and shaken onto the beach.
Paige made her way slowly toward where the dog was running back and forth, chasing the tide, barking at the water when it caught up with him. She stood and watched him for long minutes clearly enjoying himself. He might be a stray, he might need some meat on his bones, but up close, he didn’t look like he was feeling sorry for himself either.
On the contrary, he looked like he was enjoying life.
Finally, the dog noticed her standing off to one side and plonked his ass on the sand, his head turning from side to side as he regarded her solemnly, a pink tongue lolling from his mouth. He whined a little, his legs trembling as if he’d suddenly remembered it was January and he was freezing his bollocks off.
‘Hey there,’ Paige murmured as she slowly approached, keeping her voice neutral and a smile on her dial. ‘You got a home, boy? Or are you really a ghost?’
The dog didn’t say or do anything for several beats then took off along the beach, nose down, sniffing at various objects scattered across the sand.Ooo-kay then. That was successful. But, before she knew it, he was back, a crusty, faded tennis ball that had clearly seen far better days clamped between his jaws.
He brought it to her, depositing it gently at Paige’s feet.
‘Oh, you like to play fetch, huh?’
Bending over, Paige picked up the ball. It was rough, cold and wet against her fingers but she didn’t mind as she pulled her arm back to toss it, the dog never taking its eyes off the ball. Paige let it fly in the direction of the pier, hurling it as far as she could and the dog took off, a blur of limbs, tail and fur. Which only went to prove that he must have been someone’s because he’d obviously been taught to fetch.
He caught it on the third bounce and had it back at her feet within seconds and Paige dutifully picked it up and threw it again. And again. And again. After ten minutes, though, her face was burning from the slap of cold wind and her fingers were red and practically numb. Pulling the scone from her pocket, she offered that to the dog instead.
He dropped the ball like it was dead to him.
Paige crouched beside the mutt as he scoffed down the offering. ‘You like that huh, boy?’ She petted his head, scratching behind his ears which was about the only place on his body that wasn’t wet and sandy. ‘Better with jam and clotted cream, trust me.’
The dog angled his head a little as if to direct Paige to the sweet spot and she smiled as she obliged. ‘What’s your name then, boy? Are you a Max? Or a Beau? Or is it slightly grander? Are you a Zeus? Or an Apollo?’
None of the names seemed to have an effect on him as Paige petted.
‘Are you a ghost? Should I call you Casper? Yeah.’ Paige nodded. ‘You look like a Casper. Is someone missing you, Casper, or did you run away for a good reason, huh?’
He looked in good condition and hadn’t cowered or been mistrustful with Paige. In fact, quite the opposite – he’d trusted her immediately.
Clearly done with the twenty questions, the dog picked up the ball again and dropped it near Paige’s knee. ‘Sorry, Casper,’ she said on a laugh as she stood. ‘If I stick around outside any longer I’m going to turn into a Popsicle.’
The dog stared at her with his big brown eyes and whined a little. And if he’d done it deliberately to make Paige feel guilty, it worked. But her toes were officially frozen and her lungs were now aching from the constant shock of cold air.
A thought crossed her mind. A deliciously delightfully wicked thought. ‘You wanna come home with me?’
Both Jiya and Dorry had said the dog had resisted attempts at offering refuge so Paige wasn’t sure if he’d go for it and she sure as hell wasn’t going to drag the creature into the car against its will. But if he did go for it? She could only imagine Oliver’s face if she turned up with the sodden, bedraggled animal threatening to besmirch all that blinding white.
Yeah. He’d probably really hate that. He’d only grudgingly accepted Pavarotti.
