Valentine’s on Primrose Hill

‘Good. I’m going to go and finish unpacking. You should try and do some of yours too. Your bedroom’s a mess.’ Stella raised an eyebrow pointedly and swept from the room, clicking the door quietly shut behind her.

George sat on the carpet, face burning. How did her mum still have the ability to make her feel like a child, when she’d been an adult for over three years? She felt seven years-old again, having just been told off for touching one of her mum’s prized ornaments or getting sticky chocolate fingers all over her dad’s extensive record collection. She’d planned to empty all the boxes and put everything away, it was just hard to summon the motivation or energy these days. Sighing, she swivelled her head around to find the puppy, and ran a hand down his back. His fur was so incredibly soft. He yipped and turned to look at her. ‘Looks like we’re stuck with each other,’ she chuckled, ‘but please, just give me a few more days before we venture out, okay?’ She tapped him gently on the nose, ‘A week would be perfect.’

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.