The Complete #LoveLondon Collection

She didn’t get seven days, nowhere near.

Because she was feeding him the puppy took an immediate shine to her, following her around adoringly, getting under her feet and tripping her up more than once. Her bruises, despite the plush carpets, had actually multiplied since his appearance because he wasn’t quick enough to get out of her way when she turned around. And without one eye, she had one hell of a blind spot. She smiled at her own joke. Maybe she was making progress.

'Mum, the puppy’s going to kill me at this rate.’ She complained over dinner on the Monday night after his arrival. ‘I’ve fallen over him three times just this afternoon. And he yip-yaps at me every time I sit down. Can’t you or Dad take him for a while so I can have a break? Or better still, take him for a walk?’ she looked at her dad hopefully, noticing how he’d coordinated his glasses frames with his tie. ‘Nice match today, Dad.’

‘Sorry darling,’ her mum said firmly as Warren opened his mouth. ‘We’re both working full-time now and are tired in the evening, whereas you’re here all day. He loves you, just accept it. And stop trying to sweet-talk your dad into helping you.’

‘The puppy doesn’t love me,’ George said drily, ‘I feed him. There’s a difference.’

‘Not to dogs,’ her dad replied, smoothing his thinning brown hair off his forehead. His blue eyes were amused behind his glasses.

‘I guess not,’ she agreed. She bet his socks were odd again. It was a peculiarity; every work day he dressed so carefully, coordinating his suits, ties, glasses and cufflinks, but for some reason he never wore a matching pair of socks. ‘So what’s it today? Green and blue? Purple and grey?’

Her dad shook his head.

‘Wait.’ George licked a finger and stuck it in the air, like she was testing the direction of the wind. ‘One red, one blue?’

‘Bingo,’ he nodded.

Stella tutted, grabbing George’s finger to get her attention. ‘Stop trying to change the subject.’ She looked at her daughter sternly. ‘Have you walked him yet?’

George wiggled her finger out of her mum’s grasp, pushing the plate of lasagne and garlic bread aside. ‘No.’

‘He’s had all his jabs and is old enough. Springer Spaniels need plenty of exercise. Just don’t let him off the lead until he knows the area better. We don’t want him getting lost.’

‘He’s okay going out in the garden. Just give me a few more days.’

‘The garden will do for some things,’ her mum replied, ‘but he needs to stay active. Dogs need to be walked, especially his breed. They’re full of energy.’

‘You’re telling me,’ George said, unable to believe how restless the puppy was during the day.

‘If he gets bored he might get destructive,’ her mum warned.

‘Okay, I hear you.’ She didn’t want to admit that the two trips out she’d taken since the move here had made her so self-conscious she was dreading leaving the house again. ‘Thanks for dinner.’ As she slid her chair back to clear her plate and cutlery away there was a yelp. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sakes.’ She turned in a circle and bent over, straightening up with the puppy in her arms. ‘You silly thing.’ She smoothed his paw with gentle fingers. ‘I keep telling you, we’re not stuck together. You can use your bed sometimes you know.’

She glanced up to find her parents watching her with bemused expressions. ‘I’ll take him out soon.’ As soon as she was brave enough.

On Tuesday morning the puppy kept bringing her things. She was lying on her bed reading in her dressing gown when he appeared at her side, front paws up on the mattress with one of her socks in his mouth. He’d stolen it from the laundry basket. It was kind of sweet; his little furry face was so earnest and he seemed so proud of himself, that she took it from him and patted his head. Mistake. What followed was a systematic flow of belongings including more underwear and a pair of pyjamas from the laundry basket, a battered old teddy from a pile in the corner that she’d kept for sentimental value and some of her old uni textbooks. When he carried on with his task for the next half an hour she regretted the moment of weakness as she ended up buried under a pile of stuff.

‘All right, quit it. Now it’s just annoying.’ She stood, sighing heavily as she looked at the bed and then around the room. Her mum was right, it was a tip. Ignoring her command to stop fetching, the puppy spun around in a circle searching for something else to grab. When he couldn’t find anything, he started scrabbling at the wall. ‘Okay, come on you.’ After letting him out for a few minutes while she made herself a hot chocolate, she brought him back in, settled him on his bed with a doggy biscuit and had a quick bath. After dressing in black jeans and a navy hoody and tying her hair up in a knot, forgoing the eye patch as she was alone in the house, she started unpacking a stack of boxes from the corner of the room. It took her longer due to her injuries, but by the end of the morning there was a definite sense of achievement welling up inside her as her belongings were tucked away in various homes and there was a sense of order to the room. Buttons even cooperated, watching contentedly as she went back and forth, opening drawers and stacking books and DVDs on shelves. Making a quick cheese sandwich and taking it into the lounge, she stood eating it at the window, peeking round the edge of the net curtains. It was just after one o’ clock. The woman two doors down would be getting back from nursery with her twin toddler girls soon and smiling guy might mooch along too. It wasn’t every day but at least twice a week he walked past, then back again half an hour or so later. She assumed he worked locally and went home for lunch. Just as she was thinking it, he appeared, brown hair hanging in his eyes and hands tucked away in his coat pockets. Looking across the front wall at the house, he pulled one hand free and gave her a cheerful wave.

‘Bugger!’ she muttered. Caught out again. She wanted to hide but ducking away twice would be even more embarrassing than being busted in the first place so she gave him a feeble wave in return before oh so casually moving away to sit down on the sofa.

Buttons, lying on the rug in front of the TV, gave her a pointed look and rested his chin on his front paws.

‘What?’ she said defensively.

Pricking his ears up, he let his tongue loll out of his mouth. She swore he was laughing at her.

‘Oh, shut up,’ she retorted, picking up the remote.

She couldn’t settle after that, and bored with TV, and reading, started to get cabin fever. Buttons was restless too, pacing up and down on the rug, whining, spinning in circles. Muttering a rude word, she put him out in the garden and scrubbed the marble-effect worktops in the kitchen, clenching her teeth, feeling tight and knotty.

She needed someone to talk to. Juliette had always been a good listener and supportive, a friend bound to her by a shared childhood. Going to her room she dug around in her knicker drawer for her mobile phone. She hadn’t turned it on in weeks, since before the move. She’d wanted time to settle into the new house before contacting people. It was a surprise when the screen lit up and there were hundreds of pending messages on Whatsapp, numerous voicemails and texts and loads of alerts on Facebook.

As she dialled Juliette’s number, she pictured her friend’s girl-next-door beauty, the blue eyes and long brown hair. The ringtone sounded. She held her breath.

‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Oh my God! Hello stranger! It’s so good to hear your voice. I thought you’d dropped off the side of the planet,’ Juliette said, a smile in her voice.

‘Not quite,’ George answered quietly, ‘but I made it to London okay.’

‘I know, Hun.’

‘You do?’ George looked out of her ground floor window, narrowing her eyes. Where was he? After a moment she caught sight of a small shape zipping back and forth at the bottom of the garden.

‘Your mum let me know. Hang on, I’m just going somewhere private.’ The sound of movement and a door opening and closing filled the static space. ‘Okay.’

‘It wasn’t you.’ George said quickly, ‘I wanted to get comfortable here before I got in touch with people. There was a lot of change going on.’ She gulped, ‘I feel guilty now. I’m sorry. I should have called sooner.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Juliette laughed, ‘And don’t be silly. It’s not as if we didn’t see each other before you left. I’m always happy to be at the end of a phone. But I’d love to come and see you. I want to know what you’ve been up to.’

George laughed drily, thinking of the people-watching. ‘Not much, believe me.’

‘Right. No men on the horizon then?’

‘No.’ A picture of smiling guy flashed through her head. No chance. He wasn’t her usual type, and she wasn’t ready for anything right now. ‘Definitely not.’ She reiterated. ‘That’s the last thing on my mind.’

‘Shame,’ Juliette cleared her throat. ‘So was there a reason you called today?’

‘Mum bought me a puppy and he’s driving me mad,’ George blurted, before laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. When Juliette giggled too, George realised how good it was to feel genuine humour again.

‘So what have you called him?’ Juliette asked. ‘And what’s he doing to drive you barking, ha ha, pun fully intended?’

‘Buttons.’

‘How come?’

‘Because when he’s not tripping me over I think he’s as cute as one.’ She rabbited on, feeling a little like her old self again. This. She could do this. True friendship, the kind where you could pick up where you left off, as if no days had passed since you’d last spoken. ‘He jumps up and spins around loads,’ she explained, ‘is always right on my heels and every time he wags his tail he knocks three things over. His worst habit though is that whenever I turn in his general direction, he launches himself at me. Literally. One minute I’m minding my own business, the next I’m spread-eagled with a smelly, panting puppy filling my mouth with fur.’

‘Aww, I think he sounds cute,’ Juliette chuckled. ‘Come on, it’s not that bad. He’s a baby, he just needs to learn.’

‘Now you sound like my mum,’ George accused lightly, ‘are you sure she didn’t coach you for this conversation? She wants me to train him too.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Juliette replied, ‘although if she’d called me for a coaching session, I’d have been hard pressed to say no. Your Mum is pretty impressive sometimes. Especially when it comes to you.’

‘You mean full on. Like a steam roller. Or a high-speed runaway train.’