Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay: The laugh out loud romantic comedy of the year. Bella OsborneЧитать онлайн книгу.
Bugsy, let’s go walkies,’ she trilled. Bugsy stared unblinking at her, his giant dark eyes fixed on hers. Daisy gave a gentle pull on the lead but Bugsy stayed put. Daisy bent down to the small dog and put out her fingers so he could take in her scent. She guessed he was still missing Reg and having this stranger in the house was probably confusing for him. He sniffed Daisy’s proffered hand of goodwill and sneezed his response all over it.
‘Oh, come on,’ hissed Daisy, losing her patience and wiping her hand down her jeans. She was met by the same stare of defiance. Daisy stared back. She tugged on the lead and the stocky little dog slid along the polished floor on his bum but as he met the rough surface of the doormat he found his feet and trotted outside.
‘Huh,’ said Daisy with great satisfaction mentally marking up a point each on the imaginary scoreboard. She hoped that would be the end of it, that Bugsy would now see who was boss. It was the least he could do, if it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t be going for a walk at all – he could show a little gratitude.
It was a warm July evening, with a clear starry sky. The first few minutes of their stroll were uneventful until Bugsy bobbed down on a small patch of grass, gave Daisy a superior look before turning his back and straining hard.
‘No!’ yelled Daisy frantically checking her pockets for the poo bags she knew weren’t there. Daisy searched about her. It was getting dark; perhaps she could just walk away and leave Bugsy’s little deposit? But at that moment someone came around the corner a few feet away. Bugsy spotted them too and made a big show of scuffing up the grass and inadvertently his own deposit. There was little Daisy could do but watch as the piece of poo flew through the darkness and disappeared.
‘Hello, Daisy,’ said the over-friendly policeman.
‘Hi Jason.’
She had never felt quite so guilty as she did right now. The orange sign on the lamppost, stating the maximum penalty for dog fouling was £1000, was at head height with Jason and was not helping one little bit.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Daisy, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She tried to keep one eye on him whilst attempting to locate the errant piece of poo. An excruciating silence followed where Jason bobbed his head encouragingly as if expecting Daisy to say something – or was he expecting a full confession? He couldn’t prove the poo was Bugsy’s, she’d deny everything. ‘You, um, on the late shift tonight?’ she said, sounding a lot like Aunt Coral and wondering how long it would be before she was shopping at Marks and Spencer.
‘I should have finished half an hour ago but someone thought they saw Nesbit on the church spire. It was just a very large seagull. Would you like me to walk with you?’ He pointed towards the beach.
‘No, it’s okay. We’re on our way home now, thanks. We’ve been out ages,’ she lied, shooting a look at Bugsy just in case he had a canine way of contradicting her.
‘Oh, okay,’ said Jason, looking thoroughly disappointed.
‘Another time,’ said Daisy and instantly regretted it.
Jason’s glum face lit up. ‘I’d love to. That would be … well … lovely,’ he said, his grin so broad she was surprised he could form words. ‘Thursday perhaps?’
‘No, sorry I’m busy.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back. She didn’t like lying but Jason wasn’t her type, in fact, nobody was right now – she didn’t need the complications that came with dating.
‘How about tomorrow? I need to drop the railway memorabilia back to you.’
‘Okay, great. Thanks,’ she said. She couldn’t wriggle out if he was helping her.
Daisy saw her chance to escape. She kept to the roadside edge of the pavement as she skirted around Jason, keen to avoid the missing lump of poo. ‘Bye,’ she said, giving a tug on Bugsy’s lead and he begrudgingly followed her. She heard Jason let out a yelp and turning back she could see him standing on one leg trying to inspect his other shoe. It appeared Jason may have found Bugsy’s lost deposit. Daisy put her head down and hurried back to Aunt Coral.
They reached the porch and Daisy decided she needed to have a word with the dog about calling a truce. Daisy crouched down and Bugsy stood his ground.
‘Now listen, Bug.’ She felt the shortened name suited him better. ‘You and me need to get along for Aunt Coral’s sake.’ Bug tilted his head to one side so he at least looked like he was listening. ‘It’s what Reg would have wanted.’ At the mention of Reg’s name Bug barked. It was a short sharp yap that in this close proximity made Daisy jump and she promptly toppled backwards and landed on her bum. She was not happy. Bug on the other hand looked very pleased with himself. He sniffed the air, turned around and scuffed up the ground just as he had done to cover up his own poo. It felt to Daisy like a clear statement of how he felt.
Daisy got up and brushed the bits off her backside. ‘Right, fine. Have it your way. But I’m warning you …’ she said as she took him inside. Bug marched through the door without a backward glance and the battle lines were drawn.
‘Hi, love, everything okay?’ called Aunt Coral.
‘Yeah, we’re good,’ said Daisy unclipping the lead and wagging a finger at Bug, which he studiously ignored.
‘You weren’t gone long.’
Daisy openly sighed. ‘No, Bug … Bugsy wanted to head back.’ At the mention of his name Bug turned and glowered at Daisy like he knew what she was doing. She mimed that she was watching him. He turned away and trotted in to see Aunt Coral who greeted him warmly. Daisy went to put the kettle on and a few minutes later came in carrying two cups of tea. Bug yapped his disapproval at Daisy and she nearly spilled the drinks.
‘Oh, now Bugsy,’ said Aunt Coral with a chuckle. ‘He’s asking where his tea is.’
‘What, now?’ said Daisy, as pleasantly as she could manage.
‘Bugsy sometimes likes a cup of tea. Well, a bowl of tea. Would you mind?’
Yes, she minded very much. She didn’t want to be Bug’s slave. This dog was playing mind games and he was super effective at it. ‘I don’t think tea’s good for dogs,’ said Daisy, giving Bug a smug stare.
‘It’s decaff and he only has a little bit with milk.’ Aunt Coral’s eyes were almost pleading.
‘Okay,’ said Daisy, her lips pinched. It was absurd.
Daisy returned and put the tea on the floor near Bug. He sniffed it, sneezed in it and trotted out of the room. Another point pinged up against his name on the imaginary scoreboard.
‘Daisy, I’ve been having a look at Reg’s accounts.’
‘Hmm,’ said Daisy distractedly – she was contemplating how to restore the balance of power between her and the dog.
‘He had rather more money than I realised,’ said Aunt Coral, passing Daisy a bank statement.
Daisy scanned it and came to the high five-figure balance. ‘Bloody hell.’ Aunt Coral looked amused. ‘Sorry,’ added Daisy automatically.
‘I know. The solicitor has been in touch about distribution. They are transferring mine in the next couple of days. Yours will be held by them for the year but if you needed me to lend you some money in the meantime I’d be happy to.’
‘Thank you, that’s really kind.’ Daisy handed back the statement. She did desperately need some cash.
‘The Lifeboat will be thrilled when they get their share.’
‘Yeah, I bet they will,’ agreed Daisy. Her mind whirred with possibilities. She could do a lot with her share of the money. Flights to South America would no longer be out of the question. It would be a chance to properly explore far-flung countries without working all hours. The world was once again her oyster but to get that money she had to stay in Ottercombe Bay