PART 3
It was only three days before I got the tasking to walk Diesel again, and this time I ran them out to Owlbeech. I normally avoided there with smaller dogs, but Tara loved it, as there could be a lot of splashy water and a huge space to sprint, which she seemed to do for the sheer hell of it. There was also a lot more dead wood to pick up, drop, chew and so on.

It always made me laugh when she found her preferred small tree type of stick to fetch, as it meant her lifting and dropping it until she had hold somewhere near its middle. I also corpsed every time she came to a pedestrian gate and failed to understand that she couldn’t trot through carrying a log three times the width of the opening.

I kept Diesel on her lead until we were on what I called the ‘Prairie’, a sizeable area of clear-fell slowly returning to grass, where I found the obvious problem with three dogs and one ball. I had formulated a Cunning Plan for this, which consisted of launching ball-on-string for Tara while slipping Ryan a treat with one hand, then using the other to throw Diesel’s tennis ball. It didn’t work perfectly, but well enough to wear them down, if only a little. Back to Holey, Tara and Ryan dropped off, then up to Brian’s. He was late home, and seemed a little out of sorts at first, but he still asked me in for another cuppa in the early Summer warmth.
Diesel got her ball, I did most of the throwing, and he kept fiddling with his phone. I could take a hint; after all, I had been given all too many of them over the years.

“Thanks for the tea. I better be heading off; return the van”

He looked up, looking a little flustered.

“Oh. Sorry; been a bit of a day. I was going to ask what you could actually do for this mess”

I had already done a quick audit, so to speak, so it was an answer I had ready.

“I travel by bike, so big tools aren’t a thing. Remember when Waitrose did their bike trailer experiment?”

“I think so”

“Well, I was a regular there for a while, just for the free coffee with their loyalty card, but every so often I’d pick up some groceries. They latched onto me to road test their trailer, and when the scheme tanked, they let me keep one. Done some mods, so there’s a bit more room to it. I have a small lawn mower I can fit in, as well as a battery hedge trimmer and a Strimmer, same deal”

“How do you power the mower?”

“Arms and legs. It’s a cylinder mower. Anyway, what you need is a brown bin. I can’t carry away garden waste”

“Brown bin?”

“You rent them from the Council. Pennies, really, but once a fortnight they empty them. Outsize wheely bin”

“Right. If you’ve still got five minutes, there’s stuff in the shed”

I had noticed the structure, a word I found inevitable due to its size. It wasn’t huge, but neither was it a simple tool box, being around the length that could take a decent tandem.

He ducked back into the kitchen for a key, which fitted a proper lock in the door rather than a padlock and hasp. Inside were a selection of leaf rakes, spades, gripes and so on, along with a small electric mower. Oddly, I also spotted a wall socket.

“Wired for power?”

He was looking very uncomfortable, so I naturally prodded him a bit more.

“Is this actually a man cave rather than a tool shed?”

He muttered under his breath before saying something that sounded like ‘better than the sofa’.

“Pardon?”

“Diesel’s… My ex. I think I told you a bit of history, so here’s my little declaration. I love dogs. K love them so much that I know I shouldn’t have one, because I can’t give her the attention I should. No offence, but, well, I cringe at the whole idea of professional walkers. People should…”

He shook his head as if trying to lose a persistent fly, then looked straight at me.

“Not trying to put you down, because you are simply doing your best to make a living. I just don’t like the idea that people take on dogs and then, well, you have to carry their slack”

Another look in to my eyes, another headshake.

“I must be coming across as a complete twat, Jules. Sorry. I don’t mean to. I took Diesel on because there were two of us, and Suky insisted on keeping her working dog after she was retired. That didn’t work out. She, us, we didn’t work out. TMI, I know, but the power socket’s there because this is where I ended up living until she left”

He paused, then found a smile, god knows where.

“Rant over. Anyway, with this socket here, does it make things easier?”

I pulled all my horns, feelers, tentacles, whatever, back in and nodded. My mind was bouncing round like a ball in a squash court. So it hadn’t been Layla-with-the-curls, nor Hannah-the-tart, nor any of the others? And what sort of bloody name was ‘Suky’ for a fucking adult woman?

Sleeping in the fucking SHED?

Not now, woman. Definitely not now.

“Yup, power will make life a lot easier. Can you see about sourcing a brown bin, and let me know?”

“Thanks, Jules. I will. I am really sorry for going off on one. Been a bad day, as I said. Best get your van back; I’ll see you soon”

What on Earth was going on in his world? More to the point, what was going on in my head, remembering his past flames with such venom and spite? Sleeping in a shed, though, was something special. Shit on a fucking stick.

I didn’t sleep well that night, half being down to anger at ‘Suky’, the rest entirely down to slapping myself in the head, in my imagination at least, in the realisation that I was still lusting after him, and my remaining rationality was parading a variety of what it considered more realistic scenarios ranging from “Sorry? You thought I’d fancy a dog walker?” all the way to “Oh fuck off you freak”, accompanied by the vividly imagined sound of him throwing up.

Stupid, stupid woman you are, Juliet.

Another, even smaller, part of me waved for attention: ‘At least this proves you are a woman’; the rest of me told it to sod off and shut the fuck up.

Such a well-adjusted post -transition woman, and so, so bloody lonely.

I found the time to visit my mother over the next few days, which was, as ever, a mistake. I suppose that what I was seeking was a bit of reassurance that, well, there was someone who cared for me, myself and I, and what I got was someone who could only care for someone who had bever really existed.

At least I hadn’t ended up sleeping in a shed.

Yes, he rang to agree to terms for the gardening work. Yes, I continued to take Diesel out, sometimes returning her to a dark and locked house, when Brian was unable to get home in time; she had a ‘dog house’ kennel she seemed happy to lie down in, but I wasn’t that comfortable with. I was still tied to my timetable, however, so I had no real choice other than to leave her in her little hut and drive away.

I did start carrying some dog food, just in case.

Brian remained polite, friendly, charming, whatever, but there were more and more occasions when he seemed to be excavating his manners from some dark place. I did the garden, which submitted with only the most minimal of resistance, and he paid. I walked Diesel, and he did the same.

I slowly realised that I was falling in love with him, and slapped myself down as a stupid, stupid tranny. I didn’t ask myself what Layla, Hannah and bloody stupidly-named Suky had that I didn’t, because I damned well knew.

They had been real, and I never would be. I never could be.

He didn’t have hollyhocks, but he did have a couple of hydrangea and some rather surprisingly decent roses, plus a little patch of peonies. I sorted out the grass after taming the encroaching brambles, all of which was somewhat hampered by a very attentive springer spaniel. In the end, I found myself pushing the mower over the grass with my right hand while my left reached down to scratch the top of her head. She really was a sweet dog.

My only real problem was that I found myself increasingly short of sleep, as I couldn’t just do Brian’s garden and clear off, for a wonderful springer spaniel was in need of affection.

Things went tits up when Brian came home one evening when he had said he would be out until at least eight o’clock, and I was lying on the lawn, soaking up the sun, with Diesel cuddled hard into my side, and all right with the world.

The first clue was when she exploded from my side, and I rolled over to see Brian coming through his kitchen door, Diesel dancing around him. He looked like shit.

I rolled to my feet and walked towards the pair, holding the tennis ball so that I could distract the dog.

“You okay, Brian?”

He shook his head, but I couldn’t read his expression, so I tried again.

“And?”

“Sorry I’m so late”

“Not a problem. Had my cuddles”

Stupid woman! Try again,

“Nice day, Diesel being herself, not a problem. Please let me… sorry. Is this something you can talk about, with me? Something you want, or need, to talk about?”

Once again, there was his usual sequence of looking down before staring at me directly. A very wry smile.

“Well, there might be something you can help with”

“Okay…”

“She’s alleged I am neglecting Diesel”