Valentine's on Primrose Hill (A Short Story) Read online

  ‘All right, thank you for trying.’ Her mum shook her head, ‘But you’re still a gorgeous girl Georgiana, and anyone of any value will see past the physical damage.’

  George hugged her arms around her waist, staring at her unvarnished toenails. ‘Whatever you say.’

  There was a small tense silence before they both looked over at the puppy, who was now tugging on the edge of the duvet cover with a row of tiny, pointed teeth. His ears were pricked up and his tail was wagging. George smiled and switched her attention to her mum. ‘I’m sorry this has all been so disruptive for you.’

  Her mum sighed. ‘Darling, don’t apologise. Yes, we’ve both been cast back into roles we thought we’d left behind – you know I came to terms with you leaving home over two years ago, taking the promotion as Head of English, starting the OU course, but it’s fine. Life throws things at you sometimes that you have to deal with, and we’re dealing with it. I’m excited about my new job. Your dad got that transfer. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d made you leave straight after dinner that evening, or insisted you stay an extra night, anything to stop you being on that same strip of road with that poor lorry driver –,’ her voice broke and she stifled a sob, ‘but there’s no use torturing ourselves with things that can’t be changed.’

  George bit her lip, tears scorching her eyes. She’d not once been able to cry for herself over the last few months, but somehow her mum’s pain almost undid her. ‘I know that, Mum. It’ll be okay.’

  ‘It will.’ Stella nodded and pointed at the puppy, who’d managed to tear a small hole in the bedding through shaking his head and wiggling his body, splayed paws digging into the carpet. ‘So he’s staying. Enjoy him, have fun with him. But he’s your responsibility, so promise you won’t keep him in all the time.’ She clambered to her feet, gazing down at her daughter, who’d slid back to rest against the side of the bed. ‘You’ll take him for walks, won’t you?’

  George rolled her eye. She knew when she was beaten. ‘When I’m ready.’

  ‘Georgiana…’

  ‘Yes, okay, I will, I promise.’

  ‘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.

  ‘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 wel
ling 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.’

  ‘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 Mi
ss 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.’