Five Winters(16)

The girls hadn’t been that interested in the nature walk, actually. Olivia loved animals, but she’d rather go to a petting zoo than tramp through the countryside. Besides, it hadn’t been a good weekend for the girls. Their mother was away visiting her parents on the coast, and the girls probably felt they were missing out. I’d felt for them, I really had, knowing what it is like to long for your mother, and I’d tried my very best to—well, not take her place, exactly, but to make up for her not being there.

The girls. Oh heck. Normally when I did this walk in the afternoons, the Cambridge train didn’t pass us until I’d turned back towards the car with all the dogs safe on the lead, which meant that either the train had been early today or I was late. And if I was late, there wouldn’t be enough time to return all three dogs to their homes before I had to go and collect the girls from school. And there was a huge black rain cloud heading in our direction.

“Milo!” I called, my voice battling against a wind that had suddenly sprung up. “Milo!”

Lily whimpered, probably sensing it was about to rain. Just as the first fat drops began to fall, Milo reappeared, running towards me with his tongue out, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Despite everything, I laughed, bending to clip on his lead. It was impossible to stay cross with him, and normally I loved to see him indulge in his favourite hobby. It was just the thought of being late to the school. Again. And the likelihood that I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere close by to park, which would mean the girls getting a soaking. And my having to take them with me to drop off Milo.

“Come on,” I urged the dachshunds, breaking into a trot. “Let’s get you two home, at least.”

By the time we reached the van, all four of us were soaked. After giving Milo a cursory wipe down with a towel, I held the door to his travel cage open for him. He jumped straight in, allowing me to spend longer drying and settling Toto and Lily. Milo’s owners might have treated him like the child they never had, but he was a farm dog at heart, bred for the wild outdoors. A little bit of rain wouldn’t bother him.

Toto and Lily lived together in a house near the cathedral. By the time I’d dropped them off and parked on a side street near the school, it was well over five minutes since the bell marking the end of the school day had rung. As I ran through the rain, my hair plastered to my scalp, everyone—parents, children, toddlers, and babies in buggies—was going in the opposite direction to me.

Either Jaimie or I collected the girls from school two or three times a week. At first, after I’d moved to Ely, Jaimie had always done it. But then the property he’d been restoring had sold, and his next one was farther away. So I’d gladly offered to do it, and now I was mostly the one who collected them when the girls stayed overnight with us. It made practical sense, since my dog-walking work was reasonably flexible, and it was potential bonding time too—just me and the girls. As long as I remembered to look at my watch, that is.

What with the storm clouds, it was almost dark as I hurried across the playground, but not too dark to see that Olivia and Emily were the last children to be collected, sheltering with Olivia’s teacher on the porch. The lights in the classrooms behind them were ablaze, illuminating the paraphernalia of Christmas—decorations, Christmas cards, paintings. But there was nothing festive about Emily’s expression as I ran across the tarmac, and my heart sank when I saw Olivia was holding a painting. Just how was I supposed to get that safely home through the rain?

“Sorry I’m late,” I said to the teacher.

“That’s all right,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Olivia. Don’t forget your costume for the nativity play, will you? Bye, Emily.”

“Hi, girls,” I said, pretending not to notice Emily’s glare. “Sorry, Milo ran off again. Have you done a lovely painting, Olivia? Can I see it?”

Olivia clutched the picture to her chest. “No, it’s for Mummy.”

Unfortunately, despite my very best efforts and intentions, my bonding efforts hadn’t exactly been going to plan.

“Well, you’d better let me put it inside my coat if you don’t want it to get spoiled, I think, don’t you?”

When Olivia’s mouth set into a mutinous line, her sister snapped at her: “Just let her do it so we can get home.”

A veritable explosion of glitter erupted in the air between us as Olivia reluctantly passed her painting over to me. “Don’t look at it,” she commanded. “It’s a special painting for Mummy.”

“I won’t.” I unzipped my coat and placed the picture with the painted side against my jumper, silently apologising to it for the glitter coating it was about to receive. Then I picked up the girls’ abandoned lunch boxes in one hand and took Olivia’s hand in the other.

“Come on, we’ll have to run.”

“Why did you park so far away?” Emily complained. I didn’t answer that, because I knew she knew why. And anyway, with the special surprise I’d got lined up for her, I didn’t want us to fall out. I couldn’t wait to see her face when I gave it to her.

Finally, we reached the van, and I let go of Olivia’s hand to fumble with the door key. As soon as he saw the girls, Milo began to scratch at his cage, whimpering a welcome through the mesh separating the boot from the interior. Olivia strained in her seat to try to pet him, making it impossible to click her seat belt into place. Rain was trickling down my neck from my hair.