Monty and Me: A heart-warmingly wagtastic novel!. Louisa BennetЧитать онлайн книгу.
hard on the Salt case. I know I’ve got a lot to do to win back people’s respect.’
He shook his head. ‘You know, I just don’t think it’s going to be that easy. I mean, who’s going to want to work with you after this?’
‘If you give me a chance, the others will follow, sir.’
Pearl leaned closer. ‘You’re not up to the job. Never were.’
‘I know what this is really about. Just because I didn’t want to go for a drink with you …’
‘You’ve got it all wrong, lady. Why would I want to go out with someone who drops her knickers for a drugs trafficker?’
She balled her hand into a fist but punching him would instantly end her career.
‘How dare you!’
‘Just because you’re Kay Lloyd’s niece, doesn’t mean you’ve got any talent. Remember that.’
Rose left me in the kitchen with a water bowl and a promise she wouldn’t be long. She kept her promise, but the yelling man has upset her: Rose hangs her head like a dog that’s been scolded. I nudge her leg and lean against her, wagging my tail in support. She bends down, taking me in a hug.
‘What a mess!’ she sighs into my fur.
Mess? From under her armpit I look around the kitchen. It’s not that much of a mess and I’ve already tidied up a Marmite-coated crust I found under the table earlier. In the sink are some Chinese take-away food cartons that, thankfully, haven’t been washed and could do with a good licking. I’m happy to oblige, all in the name of orderliness, naturally. Sadly, there’s not a whiff of McDonald’s – my absolute favourite. Every dog’s absolute favourite, truth be told. I just wish McDonald’s would sell doggie-burgers, or better still, open up separate doggie cafés. How about Big Barker burgers, Woofer Wraps and Puppyccinos? Oh dear, I’m salivating at the thought, all over Rose’s shoes.
‘Let’s get you fed,’ she says.
She sounds chipper, but her anxiety thrums like a dragonfly’s wings.
From a bag, she pulls out some dog food tins. How do I know they’re for me? They have an ecstatic Labrador on the label, that’s how! They only grin like that when there’s food in the offing. When Rose opens a cupboard door, I smell wafts of joyful laughter, roses, ripe tomatoes and rich earthy smells. I wonder if this might have been Aunt Kay, as her scent is faint, and scents fade with time. However, the kitchen’s surfaces hold a lot of stories. From the scratched skirting boards I pick up a whiff of Legless the Dachshund, mostly washed away after many years of mopping. A farmhouse oak table has deep gouges and is marked with ink, from a time when this house was full of children. The only thing that seems new is the washing machine that’s winking its red light, stuffed full of clean washing waiting to be hung up to dry.
‘How much should I give you?’ Rose asks, peering into an open tin of meaty goodness. ‘Never had a dog as big as you, Monty.’
How much? All of it!
She looks down at me and I lick my lips. She shrugs.
‘All of it, I guess.’
We’re really bonding!
She scoops out the gooey yumminess into a bowl, adds a white tablet, then places the bowl on the floor. She is surprised when I wait for the command.
‘It’s okay. Eat it.’
I wolf down my meal fast because you never know when another dog will turn up. I then lick the bowl until I swear I can taste the ceramic glaze. Rose hangs her washing up on the garden line strung up between two trees and I help by stealing socks so she has to chase me to get them back. What fun! When the last sock is coerced from my mouth, Rose is breathless and laughing. She gets me in a playful head lock.
‘You’re naughty, but you’ve cheered me up no end.’
Glad to be of service!
Now to focus on her meal. She chops chicken breast and some vegetables. I breathe in the delicious sweet fleshiness of chicken sizzling in a wok and look up at her, eyes wide with hope. Her mobile rings just as I have her in my hypnotic gaze. Damn! I swear she was about to give me some.
Rose peers at the phone’s screen and looks relieved. At least it’s not the shouting man again. Instead, oinking noises are coming from the phone.
‘Mum, that’s never been funny,’ Rose sighs.
Is her mother a pig? Surely not?
‘Come on dear, what do you expect? You’ve joined the pigs.’ Another oink.
I haven’t seen Rose with a single pig so I have no idea what the crazy woman is talking about.
Rose’s voice falters. ‘Maybe not for much longer.’
‘That’s wonderful news! I can’t wait to tell your father.’
‘No it’s not, Mum! I love what I do. But I’ve ruined a surveillance operation and my boss thinks I’m a blithering idiot. Can’t say I blame him.’
Her heartbeat is up, her pale face flushed like sunburn. I nuzzle her leg.
‘Don’t you let those bastards bully you. I know what they’re capable of, remember. I’ve been on the receiving end of their brutality.’
Rose rolls her eyes. ‘Give it a rest, mum. You’ve never even been arrested.’
The succulent meaty smell is too much. Two long strands of my drool are competing to reach the floor first. But because I tilt my head, one stalactite of saliva lands on Rose’s knee.
‘Oh, Monty,’ she says, wiping it away with paper towel.
‘So you have a boyfriend? I was beginning to wonder if there was any hope.’
‘Monty’s a dog.’ She lets go of the spatula and strokes my head.
A big sigh from the pig. ‘Why aren’t I surprised! You know, Allen still asks after you.’
‘He has bad breath and doesn’t wear deodorant.’
‘Well, at least he has a conscience.’
The chicken is burning. This is terrible. I nudge her hand.
‘Mum, gotta go. Just serving dinner. I’ll call soon.’
She serves her meal and eats at the table. I lie at her feet and keep an eye out for any titbits she might drop by mistake. As we say, If it’s on the ground, it belongs to the hound. But Rose is a tidy eater. Next time I’ll be upping the cute factor and begging. Paddy always used to give me a little piece at the very end of his meal. Except when he ate curry. He used to say that curry made my farts smell like cow dung, which didn’t seem a problem to me but made Paddy screw up his nose and make Phwoar noises.
As Rose works at her laptop, I lie at her feet. I hear claws scratching wood and see a squirrel peering in through the kitchen window. It stretches out a claw and taps a Neighbourhood Watch sticker on the glass. I lift my head and it bolts. What a strange little fellow! Distracted, I almost miss a photo of my beloved Paddy in a scientific journal Rose is reading. He’s looking mighty fine in his best suit. I love the way his eyebrows and moustache are dark, but his beard and hair are almost white. I guess it’s the equivalent of a dog’s muzzle going white with age. The corners of his eyes are full of wrinkles because he smiles a lot and his eyes are a rich brown and welcoming like hot chocolate. I hear a whimper and realise it’s me. Rose looks down and strokes my head. It’s very soothing. The photo disappears from her screen but his face stays with me.
I imagine Paddy’s house all dark and lifeless, and my doggie duvet near the back door, complete