Just The Way You Are(26)

‘He’s gone that way!’ Joan panted when we reunited a minute later. ‘Quickly!’

Huffing, puffing, leaping over fallen branches and launching ourselves past overgrown brambles, we blundered after him for what felt like forever, but was in actuality about half a mile. Every so often we’d spot him in the distance, stopping to sniff the air before he scampered off again.

And then we saw the focus of his mission. Up ahead, Nesbit wiggled through a slat in a wooden fence, into the most stunning of settings – a wide, open field with a brook burbling along one boundary, in the centre of which was the kind of house that put my Dream Cottage firmly in its place.

While not huge, it was like something out of Grand Designs – a wall of windows that spanned two storeys, a wide wooden porch beneath a steel and glass balcony.

One of these super-modern bi-folding glass doors was open, and without pausing in his stride, we watched, horrified, as Nesbit sprinted up the solid porch steps and straight inside the house, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.

Joan looked at me, eyes wide, mouth open, as if to say, You’re the adult here – do something! Horribly aware that she was right, the only thing I could think of to do was follow him. I clambered over the fence, pointlessly calling the name he hadn’t figured out was his yet, hurried across the lawn and into a stranger’s kitchen.

Oh my. The kitchen was as stunning as the outside of the house. A huge island took up one half of the room. Behind it was a wall with a smaller window, a Smeg fridge and open shelving. The other half contained a magnificent wooden table and chairs. The table was set with numerous places, and the centre space was filled with bowls of salad, bread and other food all covered in cling film.

And there, underneath the table, was a puppy wagging his tail in ecstasy, jaws firmly clamped around an enormous roast chicken.

To make things worse, on the other side of the kitchen, sitting politely on a dog bed, no crate necessary, were two familiar-looking collies.

Crap.

At that point, a thirty-something man in a shirt and smart trousers walked in holding a wine glass.

‘Hello, is someone there?’ he called out, before spotting me, frozen in agony just inside the doors.

He instantly frowned, which was understandable. ‘Can I help you?’

Crap crappity CRAP!

‘Um… my dog…’ My voice trailed away into a whisper.

The frown deepened.

There was nothing to be done but step further into the house, get on my hands and knees and scrabble under the table to grab hold of the worst dog in the world and drag him out of there.

Nesbit, of course, disagreed. He’d hunted down a treasure beyond his wildest dreams, and he wasn’t about to surrender it without a fight.

As I crawled in, he backed out, dragging the poor chicken with him. After a couple of feet, the leg he was holding broke off from the rest of the bird, and he turned and fled.

Further into the house.

The man yelled, ‘What the hell?’ and was calling for back-up before I could think about extricating myself from underneath the table.

‘Some woman’s dog just ran upstairs with our dinner!’ the man barked.

‘What?’ There was a chorus of exclamations and animated questions. I contemplating remaining underneath the table until everyone had gone away, but then one of the collies wandered over and gave a soft growl.

There was nothing else for it. I scrambled through to the other side and straightened up, clutching the remains of the chicken. Here I came face to face with a gaggle of adults and children staring at me from the kitchen doorway. I was even more embarrassed to see that one of them was Sam.

‘I’m so sorry!’ I managed to squeak. ‘I’ve only had him since yesterday. My eleven-year-old neighbour found him in a plastic bag in the forest and I said I’d look after him for her.’

An older man in a suit glared at Sam. ‘What the hell is she doing in your house?’

‘Um… perhaps it’s best if I get him back, and then I can explain…’ I waved in the general direction of the doorway.

They looked at me, a mixture of confused alarm, outrage and one or two secretive smirks.

‘Where is he?’ Sam asked, face serious but thankfully not angry.

‘He’s… gone through there.’ I winced. ‘I think I heard him go upstairs.’

At least three of the children instantly pushed through the adults to find him, Sam straight on their heels. I took a couple of tentative steps to follow them, but the man who’d initially found me in the kitchen moved to block my way. ‘I don’t think so!’ He looked me up and down. ‘You can wait here.’

I glanced at my dishevelled jeans and top, covered in smears of dirt and bits of undergrowth. Reaching up to my hair, a tentative hand came away clutching a handful of twigs and a dead spider. I was sweaty from the chase, and burning with shame. When Joan appeared a moment later, her T-shirt sporting a giant rip, mud encrusting one cheek and wearing only one trainer, I didn’t suppose it helped my credibility.

‘Hey,’ I whispered, holding out a hand. She crept in and took it, eyes round with questions.

‘He ran upstairs, so some of the people here have gone to fetch him,’ I murmured. ‘It’s okay, one of them is Sam, who helped me move the bed.’

She nodded, face pinched with worry.