He looked at her, then carried on shuffling about in circles, restless.
‘Do you want to get down? Is the duvet too warm for you?’I told you so. ‘I’m not turning the light off, if that’s what the problem is. I sleep with the light on at the moment. I know it’s very unreasonable but you’re just going to have to put up with me being a bit weird for a bit, I think.’
He was watching her, like she had a little more explaining to do.
‘Just give me time.’
Bear wandered up to her face, peered at her closely, exhaled at her through his nostrils, and climbed onto her pillow, curling himself around her head like a huge furry hat.
‘You’re sleeping there?’ It was unconventional, and she prayed she didn’t get kicked in the face, but she didn’t exactly dislike it.
He sighed, a long, sleepy sigh. Alice kept firmly still, not wanting to disturb this funny visitor. He was finally settled, like he had all the time in the world for her.
It must have been morning. Alice was awake, her head foggy, the duvet pulled right over her, but through the fabric she could see the light in her room had changed from the stark orange of her bedside light, which had stayed on all night, to a more muted yellow, suggesting the sun was trying to break through the curtains.
She traced her finger up and down the wound on her leg, and a deep sadness settled over her as if the duvet itself was the weight of her sorrow. It had been a long first night alone, with tangled dreams of oppressive London skylines and her dry, thirsty throat closing to the point where she could no longer breathe. In her waking hours her first thought was always the guilt, her mind whispering at her again and again that she had caused this and that she’d live with it for ever.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent so long indoors, so long in bed. Just three weeks ago today she would have been up at dawn, running around, probably dreaming up cartoons that made light of a world she viewed through rose-tinted glasses. What had she even been working towards, trying to save the world when at any moment, any heartbeat could be someone’s last?
The duvet shuffled near her feet, and then lifted an inch. A little black nose appeared, nostrils flaring, sniffing at Alice’s toes. With a snort it disappeared again.
A moment later the nose reappeared, pushing a tennis ball in under the duvet, which rolled against Alice’s feet, warm and gooey with dog dribble. The nose waited patiently, and Alice watched it follow the scent of the ball as she nudged it with her toes.
With a sigh, she gave in. There was one reason then, for her to still get up in the morning.
Even in the capital city the streets can be quiet on a Sunday morning if you leave early enough. Quiet was what Alice hoped for as she stepped out of her front door. She held Bear’s lead tightly, her baseball cap pulled low, wearing a bulky hoodie that wasn’t really necessary in weather that still lingered with the threat of the heat that had come before it. Quiet and hidden and cold, that’s all she wanted.
She’d taken Bear out yesterday afternoon, doing two circles of her block, walking close to the walls, her head down. She’d done the same in the evening, before it got dark, knowing he’d probably need a pre-night-time wee. But he needed a proper walk, and like it or not, she was the one who’d agreed to take him.
It was the same every time they left the house. Bear would get as far as the pavement and stop, looking up at her with big confused eyes and pulling back when she tried to coax him on. His little whine broke her heart over and over again because he just wanted them to wait for Jill. It was as if he remembered that he never used to walk without her, but couldn’t remember that she didn’t live here with them.
Then after a few minutes he would give in, and his slow walk would turn into a trot, and before long he was ahead of her, sniffing and snaffling against the ground.
This morning her heart thumped and she looked especially carefully before crossing the road. On the other side of her street, she stopped and looked back at the safety of her flat. Bear stood by her side, fidgeting, and that’s when she saw theTRAVEL EUROPE THIS SUMMERadvert on the side of the bus stop.
Their trip was off; of course it was. And at some point she’d have to actually make all the cancellations. From under her cap she stared at the poster, all those hopes and memories and experiences that were paintings that would never come to life now because Jill had left her. In that moment an unexpected fizz of anger at Jill bubbled through the numbness.
Bear tugged on the lead.
‘Just give me a minute,’ Alice said to him. ‘Please.’
So he sat on her foot and waited.
A lorry crept around the corner at the end of the street, and Alice didn’t want the driver to see her. She moved her foot out from its warm cover and off they went, not stopping again until they’d entered the park, and there she remembered to breathe again.
The park was too big, too public, too open. Where would she hide with Bear if anything happened here? London wasn’t the same city to her any more – it felt dangerous and overcrowded.
Feeling faint at thoughts of the park filling with people, she sat down on a bench and held her face in her hands, but Bear was having none of it. He stuck his nose between her hands and licked her cheeks.
‘Let me guess, you had peanut butter for breakfast?’ a voice said.
Alice’s eyes flew open. She pushed her hands into Bear’s fur, pulling him closer to her and looked up. In front of her stood a kind-looking woman with a dachshund, who was straining on his lead to get a sniff of Bear.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump, but this one is obsessed with peanut butter and he literally won’t leave my face alone after I’ve eaten it. Bloody dogs!’ The woman laughed and patted Bear with affection. ‘What type of dog is this?’
Alice scrambled to find her words. ‘Um, a Bernese Mountain Dog.’
‘Oh, he’s lovely, he looks like a little bear cub. How old?’
