The Complete #LoveLondon Collection

‘She wants what’s best for you,’ Juliette said loyally. ‘She loves you.’

‘But she’s so obstinate and –,’ George stopped, feeling mean. Her mum was ridiculously stubborn at times, but you couldn’t question her motives. ‘Actually, you’re right,’ she agreed, focusing on her hands, which were gripping the windowsill. When had she bitten her fingernails down so much they were red and sore? She’d always taken such pride in her lovely oval nails.

‘Of course I’m right. And she’s got that stern teacher thing going on.’ Juliette added. ‘Remember that time she talked us through behaviour management strategies?’

‘Do I ever.’ George sniggered, ‘We were like, what, twelve? You looked so bored. But the worst thing was, I found it really interesting.’

‘I know. It wasn’t long after that you started talking about wanting to be a teacher when we grew up.’

‘Yeah, I’d forgotten that.’ George smiled sadly, thinking about how much she’d loved her English degree and the planned PGCE - post-graduate certificate in education - her tutor had said he’d support her in the application for. She’d been so full of excitement and aspirations. It seemed she had a lot to be thankful to her mum for. Not that she could imagine pursuing her dream of being a teacher at the moment.

‘Oh, crap.’ Juliette muttered, ‘I’m sorry, Hun, but I have to go. I’m late for a meeting. I got that promotion, and they kind of need the chair of the meeting present to go ahead with it. Oh, and next time we speak ask me about Jon.’

‘You’ve got a new boyfriend, as well as the promotion? That’s fantastic, well done! And yes, of course I want to hear all about him.’

Juliette had worked for a corporate bank since leaving college and had talked about climbing the career ladder whenever they went out for drinks. George gulped, feeling ashamed. She had no clue about what had been happening in her friend’s life recently, whereas Juliette had always been there for her; hugging George after disagreements with her mum; comforting George when her first boyfriend dumped her; visiting George at uni once a month like clockwork to help drive away homesickness in the first few terms. Friendship was a two-sided coin and she wasn’t pulling the weight her end.

‘I’ll let you go for now,’ George said, ‘but I’m calling you in the next few days so we can sort out you visiting one weekend.’

‘Try and stop me. Phone me soon.’

‘I will,’ George answered fiercely.

‘Fab. Oh, and Miss Dunn?’

‘Yes?’

‘Train that puppy, why don’t you? I don’t want him peeing all over me when I come visit.’

George laughed. ‘Fair enough, will do. Take care.’

Staring out the window after ringing off, she hissed a swear word upon spotting Buttons happily digging a hole in the lawn. Her parents and Juliette were right. The dog needed training. Tucking her phone in her pocket to check the rest of the messages later, she went out to the garden, pulling the puppy out of the hole and dusting soil off his damp nose. ‘No, Buttons! Naughty dog. You don’t dig holes!’ It might be her cousin’s house that they were renting, and Matt was probably too loaded to care about a teensy hole at the bottom of the garden of the fourth property he owned, but her parents would care, and Buttons couldn’t go around being so wilfully destructive.

The puppy sat down and tilted his head to gaze up at her. She knelt to look into his face, and saw a woeful expression staring back. Yapping, he looked over at the fence, looked at her, faced the fence again.

‘Oh, for f–,’ she bit back the obscenity, ‘heaven’s sakes. Okay. You win.’

They were waiting in the hallway when her mum came in from work, George holding Buttons on his lead, pink oval tongue panting and tail wagging frantically against the ceramic floor tiles.

‘Everything okay, darling?’ Stella asked, pausing in the act of shrugging out of her lilac winter coat, face alight with hope.

‘I don’t want to go alone,’ George bit her lip, nerves churning her stomach in grotty, oily circles.

Her mum sucked in a breath, eyes growing wet. ‘Primrose Hill is only five minutes away. I’ll walk with you today. After that, you go on your own.’

‘But –,’

‘A guide dog may have given you the same freedom of movement as everyone else, but someone,’ she emphasised, ‘was dead set against it, so it’s you and Buttons now. Come on,’ Stella tugged her coat back on, re-buttoned and belted it, ‘I’ll write your father a note while you wrap up. It’s cold outside.’

‘It is January,’ George replied as she pulled on a green anorak and yanked the fur-trimmed hood as far up as possible. She repositioned her eye patch then shook her head so her dark hair fell forward in waves to cover her face.

Turning around, her mum threw her a sharp look. ‘I don’t know how you’re going to see anything like that. You need to pin your hair back and have your hood down so you’ve got maximum visibility.’

‘Do you want me to leave the house or not?’

‘Have it your way,’ Stella shrugged, opening the door and gesturing her daughter to go first so she could lock up.

George hesitated, chewing her lip, hands going clammy. Before full blown anxiety could hit though, Buttons, sensing freedom, had pitched forward eagerly onto the front path, giving George no choice but to be tugged out of the house or fall over. ‘Woah!’ He was surprisingly strong for a twelve week old puppy, but she guessed that was what a mixture of desire and determination could do. Give you strength you didn’t know you had.

‘Are you all right?’ her mum called, quickly locking the door and shoving the key in her pocket as she raced down the path to catch up with them.

‘Yes,’ George panted. ‘Oi, Buttons!’ she tugged on the lead to remind the puppy she was there. ‘Slow down, and remember who’s in charge.’

‘Never let them get their head in front of your knee,’ her mum advised, slipping a pair of gloves on. ‘You need to lead, not the other way around.’

‘Okay,’ George said, pulling the dog up and making sure they were in line with each other.

The three of them stepped onto the pavement and turned right, Stella walking on her daughter’s left so George was in the middle of the group, with Buttons nearer the wall.

Cars whizzed past and pedestrians stepped around them, George turning her head back and forth to look out for any obstacles. While she hoped no-one could see her face, her mum was right. Between the hood, her flowing hair and the eye patch, she could barely see. Inhaling sharply, she pushed the hood down, talking to her mum to take her mind off how scary this was for her. ‘Where did you learn that?’ she asked. ‘About leading? We’ve never had a dog.’

‘Internet,’ Stella’s hand hovered by her daughter’s elbow as a red letter box came up on the right, but as if he knew something, Buttons walked around it, his shoulder against George’s knee to steer her away from it.

‘Clever doggy,’ Stella exclaimed.

George glanced at her suspiciously, ‘Are you sure he’s not a guide dog? Or trained in some way?’

‘Not as far as I know,’ her mum replied. ‘He’s just got good instincts.’

‘Hmmmm,’ George agreed dubiously, lifting her head towards a street light. She had to admit it was refreshing being out and about, much more than she’d imagined. Nothing disastrous had happened and no-one was staring at her in the early evening darkness. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

She regretted the thought a few minutes later when upon reaching Primrose Hill, Buttons got overexcited about the wide open green space and other dogs and tore off with George hanging onto his lead. She tripped over and smashed her knee on the concrete path. Wincing, she rolled over onto her bum, clutching her leg, the puppy’s lead somehow still wrapped around her right hand.

‘Stupid dog!’ George gritted her teeth against the stinging pain, her jeans ripped open to reveal an oozing gash on her knee.

‘Are you all right, darling?’ her mum dropped into a crouch beside her, grabbing Buttons’ lead. ‘Here, I’ll take him. How bad is it?’ Stella’s face was clenched and white.

‘Just a cut and probably a bruise,’ George got up carefully, not wanting her mum to worry, and was reaching for the puppy’s lead when a guy came running over.

‘Are you okay?’ he panted. ‘I saw you fall. Do you need any help?’

George automatically dropped her chin to her chest. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ She got an impression of tousled brown hair before hiding her face. It was smiling guy. Shit, this was so embarrassing.

‘Fine usually means exactly the opposite,’ he answered drily, smiling at her.

George stepped towards her mum, yanking up her hood.

‘You fell pretty heavily. It must have hurt,’ he insisted. ‘Can I help? I could give you a piggy-back or something. I don’t live far from here.’ The raised eyebrow and grin he gave her, which she caught from the corner of her eye, communicated that he knew she knew that. He recognised her.