Sitting Pretty Read online

  Marvin came back down the stairs with a bath towel. At least he’d found a clean, dry one, although it wouldn’t be either for much longer.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, as I threw it over my head and tried to squeeze out the worst of the drips before they ruined Henry Halliday’s floor covering and got me into the possibility of even more hot water. Talking of which, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t give for a bath right now.

  ‘Do you want me to make you some tea, or run you a bath or something?’

  Was Marvin telepathic? ‘That’s all right,’ I said quickly, before he started offering to come and scrub my back for me – although if he was telepathic he would already know that was never going to be an option. ‘I can manage the bath part. A cup of tea would be very welcome though, thanks.’

  Talisker was curled up on my bed, also fast asleep – what was it, National Sleep-in Day for Cats? Was there a sponsorship form I should have signed? I mean, anybody working with animals knew that cats could sleep for twenty hours a day, but still, I’d never had a day when not one of my furry feline charges had started head-butting me for a tickle or a rub behind the ears, or even just to get me to hurry up and feed them as soon as I’d walked through the door. Cleo briefly opening one eye earlier didn’t count. The rest of her was still sound asleep.

  I put the plug in and started running myself a bath, pouring some of the own brand, rose-scented shower cream I’d bought in Asda under the tap – I didn’t have any bath stuff, but I couldn’t really see what the difference was anyway. And I certainly wasn’t using any more of Henry Halliday’s expensive toiletries. The hot water looked so inviting and the fragrance coming off it, while not in the same league as what I’d used at Mum’s – but then that was Champneys – it was all I could do not to just climb in with my sodden clothes still on. They certainly couldn’t get any more wet. But I didn’t want Marvin wandering in with my cup of tea and calling the newspapers or texting Sky News to say that the Loch Ness Monster was indeed still alive, but had relocated down south and had just been seen in a bath tub in a village in Hampshire.

  ‘Here’s your tea,’ called the man himself, wandering into the bedroom and then, clearly as an afterthought, knocking on the door just behind him. ‘I put a drop of whisky in it to help warm you up.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, trying to stop my eyebrow raising in case it made me look like I thought he was trying to get me drunk. Or that he might be disappointed that I hadn’t started getting undressed and he’d missed out on copping an eyeful. He’d been very kind to me and I didn’t want him to think I didn’t trust him. ‘You didn’t have to bring that up, I was just going to come down for it,’ I added, pretty sure I’d managed to do just that. ‘Did you manage to catch up with your friend?’ And now I sounded nosey too.

  ‘Yes, that’s all sorted, thanks. Right, I’ll leave you to your bath. If you dump your wet things on the landing, I’ll shove them in the washing machine for you.’ He turned to go. ‘Don’t forget to put them on the towel or wrap them up in it, or else Henry will go ape.’ He rolled his eyes at what he clearly saw as his elder brother’s outrageous idiosyncrasies and off he went.

  From what I knew of him, I couldn’t imagine Henry Halliday going ape, or bananas, or any other description of it. In my head he was far too well-mannered and gentlemanly for that. To me he seemed more the sort of person who would politely smile and nod, while noticing things and storing them – in his probably photographic memory – for later. Then I imagined he would request whoever had done something wrong to come to his office, where he would say whatever had to be said in private. I saw him as the sort of boss whose standards were high and whose word was law, and who would give short shrift to anyone who didn’t come up to scratch, but would do it in a calm and dignified way and look magnificent while he was doing it – where did that come from? Then the employee would go away feeling worse about disappointing the boss than about being in whatever trouble they’d got themselves into.

  I put the cup and saucer down on the corner of the bath, and as I peeled off my wet clothes, I wondered what it would be like to work for somebody like that. Davina was a lovely boss but she was fairly temperamental. People had been fired with no verbal or written warnings, over the slightest thing if that was how the mood had taken her – poor Daisy had nearly been one of them. I’d been very lucky during my time at Sitting Pretty. All the pets I’d been given the care of had taken to me – well, except Bella, the grumpy princess, but nobody knew about that and, unless Bella’s owner had a nanny cam in her house, nobody was likely to. I’d been very lucky with their owners too – although I wondered how many of them would look at me quite so favourably if they knew what I’d been up to in some of their absences.

  I rolled up my soggy clothing in the towel and, checking the landing was clear, dropped it outside my bedroom door. After a look at the still sleeping Talisker, I closed the bathroom door – at least I knew he was there, so there’d be no Andrex puppy-type surprises interrupting this bath.

  My whole body started up a Mexican wave of a sigh as I lowered myself into the bath. By the time my shoulders were submerged in the faintly rose-scented, gorgeously hot water, the sigh had waved itself up and down and up a couple of times before mellowing out into a state of tranquil floatiness. I ducked my wet head under the water for a moment before reaching for my shampoo and giving my hair a quick wash, ducking under again to rinse. Then I squeezed a dollop of conditioner into my hand and massaged it through my hair with my fingers. Alex had always told me off for washing my hair in the bath. I couldn’t remember what his problem was with it and right now I couldn’t have cared less.

  Leaving the conditioner on, I picked up my tea and took a tentative sip in case it tasted disgusting. It was a bit stronger than I would have liked, but he must have added just the right amount of sugar and it tasted all right. I swallowed half the cup. The alcohol, along with the hot water, were soothing and I decided to empty my mind and let it relax and float. What had I been thinking about? Oh yes, Henry Halliday … and Davina … I’d been about to compare them as bosses. But that could wait. I was going to empty my mind and let it relax …

  Davina didn’t look like the boss of any other pet sitting or dog walking agency I’d worked for before. Most of them dressed as if they knew they’d more than likely have to go out and scoop up a steaming pile of dog poo, separate a pair of copulating animals, or climb a tree to get a daft cat down at some point during their day. Never mind that now. Come on, Beth. Float and relax. Float and relax …

  She looked as if she should really be the editor of some swanky fashion magazine with a one-word title – a French, swanky fashion magazine with a one-word French title – where all her employees looked like clones of Audrey Hepburn, and whatever matching lipstick and nail varnish Davina wore on a Monday, they all rushed out to buy and came in wearing for the rest of the week. She should be like Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada. She should be … OK, that’s enough thinking about Davina. Mind, empty yourself. Think empty thoughts … Empty thoughts …

  Henry Halliday’s a stylish dresser, too. I bet that fancy wardrobe in his bedroom is full of tailor-made business suits and shirts and a dinner jacket with a real bow tie that you have to tie into a bow yourself. A yawn caught me by surprise … Where was I? Henry Halliday’s wardrobe … I bet even his casual clothes are stylish, if that photo of him with his niece or whoever she is was anything to go by. And I bet all his shoes are handmade by cobblers. Cobblers? Don’t they mend shoes? Who makes shoes? Shoemakers, I suppose. And elves. Elves and shoemakers … wasn’t there a story about an elf and some shoemakers? Or was it some elves and one shoemaker? A second yawn … it was relaxing, this rose-scented bath stuff. My eyes felt heavy. I could so easily fall asleep …

  A rattling sound woke me and I jolted up in the water as if I’d been electrocuted. What on earth was that? I looked round and saw the door handle going down and up ever so slightly, as if it was
being operated by a frail old lady. But we were fresh out of frail old ladies here.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I called out. ‘I’m in the bath! Go away!’ The handle went down a bit more and up again. The idea of locking the door had flitted briefly across my mind just before I climbed into the water, but it had seemed a bit nonsensical then. ‘Go away! I’m in the bath,’ I tried again as the handle went all the way down and the door swung open.

  I ducked my body back down into the water while reaching my arm out for the nearest towel and nearly sending the cup and saucer flying. Then I saw who it was.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ‘Talisker!’ My voice didn’t know whether to register annoyance at being disturbed, relief that it was just the cat and not anything more sinister, or wonder at how he’d managed to open the door by himself. It sounded a confused mish-mash of all three to my ears – I had no idea how it sounded to his.

  The cat strutted across the tiled floor, tail high in the air, purring loudly as if to say ‘Look! Did you see me? Did you see how clever I was? Get out of the bath and close the door and I’ll do an encore and amaze you again with my dexterity. Go on!’

  ‘How did you do that?’ I asked him as he hopped effortlessly onto the edge of the tub. ‘How did you open that door, young man?’

  He just purred some more and smiled at me as if he was some incredibly popular, talented, and famous film star and I was a chat show host, and he’d taken time out from his fabulous career to come and let me interview him. I could almost hear him saying ‘Ask me anything you like, Beth. Any question at all.’ So I did.

  ‘Talisker, do you know how naughty it is to open a bathroom door and wander in while somebody is having a bath?’ He looked completely unabashed – I might as well have been asking Lindsay Lohan if she knew that excessive drinking and drug taking were bad for you. ‘Particularly if it is a person of the opposite sex,’ I told him in a sterner voice, although I wasn’t quite sure how I was planning on taking this line of debate where two different species were involved. Although as Talisker was unlikely to actually ask me that, it didn’t really matter.

  He dipped a paw into the bath water, put it up to his face, and started licking it.

  ‘Excuse me! This is my bath water,’ I told him. ‘And I can’t imagine it tastes all that nice with the chemicals it’s probably got in it.’ It seemed I was wrong, because he dipped the same paw right back in the water and did exactly the same thing again. ‘Are you planning on doing all four paws?’ I asked. ‘Because I don’t mind the front two too much, but if you start dangling your back legs in my bath water then one of us is getting out of here very quickly.’

  He gave me a look that said, ‘Fair enough, it’s a deal – front paws only’. And he switched his weight to the first paw and started dipping the second one.

  Without lifting my shoulders out of the water, I picked up the cup and saucer before he knocked them off the edge, drained the cup, and put them on the other corner. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you went back into the bedroom? I’m not getting out of here with you staring at me.’

  He seemed to give the matter a moment’s thought before deciding I was right. He then jumped gracefully down with the same economy of movement as he’d used jumping up and strutted towards the door, turning to give me a goodbye meow just before he passed through it.

  Wondering if I would ever again be able to have an undisturbed bath in a house with an animal in it, I turned on the hot tap, switched it over to the shower setting, and started to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. How had he done that?

  I might have been eager to do something different with my weekend for once, but it seemed to me that I’d had more than enough entertainment for one day. What with seasickness in the Solent, belligerent Bella the fractious feline, a sudden monsoon on my walk home, and a cat named after a whisky trying to drink my bath water, all I wanted now was to get into my pyjamas and have a quiet evening in front of the TV. No more dramas for me today, thank you.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The next day, being Sunday, the church bells woke me before the alarm and I momentarily wished I’d taken Daisy up on her offer and let her walk Bubbles today as well as yesterday. With only the three cats to feed today, there would have been no need to get up early. Anyway, I hadn’t, so I hauled myself out of bed and went downstairs to make coffee.

  The rain had stopped some time during the night, but everything outside was still very wet and shiny, as if the whole view had passed through a car wash. Walking Bubbles would be fun.

  ‘Are you decent?’ I called as I knocked on the other bedroom door. ‘I’ve brought you a coffee.’

  ‘Come in,’ I heard Marvin yawn. ‘Completely and boringly decent, as you can see,’ he added, as I took his coffee to the bedside table and put the cup and saucer down on a coaster – only Henry Halliday would have a coaster on his bedside table, surely?

  ‘Very glad to hear it,’ I told him in my primmest voice.

  ‘Of course, if you were interested, it wouldn’t take me long get indecent …’ He treated me to a Carry On style wink.

  ‘Tempting as that offer may sound – in your own head at least – some of us have dogs to walk.’ I threw his cast off sweatshirt from yesterday at his head. ‘I’ll be a few hours, do you want me to bring anything back for lunch?’

  ‘No it’s all right, I’ll probably be out, but I’ll cook something for dinner. You know you’re a cruel, heartless woman, Beth … Beth …’

  ‘Dixon,’ I informed him. ‘Now shut up and drink the coffee this cruel, heartless woman bothered to bring you.’ And I shut the door and left him to it.

  Bubbles was, as usual, a complete nightmare. The rain had washed away the scents from all his favourite trees and he couldn’t make up his mind which one to pee on first. Plus, with it having rained so heavily all evening, there were no tasty, tossed aside treats in any of the rubbish bins for him to rootle out and wolf down. He kept looking around, disappointment written all over his mischievous face. I didn’t envy Mrs Parker – he was going to be a pain in the backside all day.

  Anthony and Cleopatra were much more lively than yesterday and I stayed and played with them for half an hour. Bella was her usual miserable self – I did my best with her but there was just no cheering that cat up.

  Marvin had gone out by the time I got back, so I made myself a cup of tea and got my laptop out. I needed to stop delaying the inevitable and start looking for jobs in London. I wondered where I might end up working next. Wherever it was, it wouldn’t be a patch on Sitting Pretty. The dog walking service that I’d been working for in London when I met Alex was a possibility, but going back there would feel like taking a step backwards. Plus, people there had got to know Alex. If any of them were still there, they would ask questions and look at me pityingly, whatever variation on the truth I told them. And if I told them the actual truth, they probably wouldn’t believe me.

  As I was lunching solo, I started off a jacket potato in the microwave and then put it in the oven to crisp the outside up. While I was waiting, a couple of trickles of rain appeared on the kitchen window and I watched them race each other down the pane. It was turning into a steady drizzle by the time my potato was ready. And by the time I’d cut it in half, sprinkled some grated cheese on it, and put it back in for a couple of minutes, the drizzle had turned into another solid downpour. Afternoon walkies was going to be fun.

  I wasn’t quite as drenched when I got back that evening as I had been the day before – more soggy than sopping. At least I’d gone out prepared for the rain today, and I’d had my car with me.

  ‘Mmm, something smells good,’ I found myself sniffing the air like a Bisto kid on speed as I walked through the front door. Marvin could be heard clattering about in the kitchen and my stomach decided it was looking forward to whatever it was he was making.

  ‘It’ll be about five minutes,’ he called out.

  I went upstairs and
changed out of my clammy work clothes and into my warm pjs, thinking I should probably give my hair a quick blast with the hair dryer but unable to keep myself away from that delicious smell. So I followed it down the stairs, hoping Marvin wouldn’t mind eating dinner opposite someone wearing aesthetically challenged, kitten and puppy print pyjamas. I hadn’t realised just how hungry I was until the smell wafted its way up the stairs and in the direction of my nose as I was getting dressed. All thoughts of drying my damp hair were abandoned in the face of this delicious aroma. And my stomach had rumbled its agreement that hair drying and any other titivating could wait. Well, I supposed it had been a long time since that jacket potato.

  ‘I knocked up some pasta.’ Marvin indicated the large saucepan he was stirring on the stove, as I walked into the kitchen. He was clearly a one pot type of cook. ‘It’s my signature dish. I know you love cheese. I hope you like garlic and mushrooms.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And cream and eggs.’

  ‘Yes, those too.’

  ‘And bacon.’

  ‘Sounds lovely.’

  ‘Pour yourself some wine then and I’ll be ready to dish up in a couple of minutes.’

  I didn’t need telling twice. I poured myself a glass of wine and Marvin a beer and put both drinks down on the table. Then, as I had time, I ran back up the stairs and grabbed the hairdryer and my bottle of anti-frizz serum, imagining Marvin ladling out the fusilli pasta in its creamy Carbonara-type sauce into two lovely big bowls and setting them down on the table in a few minutes. My stomach rumbled appreciatively.