Previously…

A Labradoodle, a cross between a Labrador and a Poodle. My husband, Sir Tremaine, bought her for me shortly before he died.’

‘I’m sorry, m’lady?’

‘What for?’

‘That Sir Tremaine has died.’

She was silent for a moment.

‘Thank you, I still miss him tremendously,’ she said quietly and then more loudly, ‘Right-oh, back to business. I’ll leave you now. If there’s anything you need, pull on that rope and my butler, Jenkins, will see to your requirements.’

She quickly stroked Fifi’s head and got a lick in return, then sailed out of the room leaving me with Fifi who was gazing at me sardonically.

‘Right, Fifi, let’s make friends, shall we?’ I said, approaching her. ‘I’m Samantha.’

She took another look at me and then at the door. She got up and went over to where her mistress had left the room and sniffed. She cocked her head to one side and listened for few seconds. Then she looked at me and with a rush, she came at me and jumped…

And now the story continues…

She was on me before I knew it and my pencil, sketch book and bag flew in the air as she landed on my chest. I fell over, in fright and waited for my throat to be torn apart…

Only it didn’t happen because she proceeded to lick the makeup off my face. I think she was happy as she was making soft, gurgly, woof-woofly noises in her throat as she tried to lick my face off.

‘Get off!’ I cried as she threatened to drown me in doggy drool. Eventually, after what seemed like a century, she let go of me and allowed me to sit up. We were both a bit out of breath, but she seemed to be in somewhat better condition than me as she looked very happy and her tail was going at about two hundred wags per minute.

‘Fifi, you are a naughty, naughty girl.’

She had the grace to look a bit hang-dog, but as her tail was still wagging like fury and creating a draft so I don’t think that she was that sincere.

‘Right, STAY.’ I said, in a commanding voice, but she just lay down on her back, expecting a tummy rub.

‘No chance; tummy rubs are for good girls. What do you think Lady Fairbairn would say if she saw you like that?’

Hearing that name, she got back on her feet, looking a bit worried and went to the closed door, her ears pricked up at the possibility that her mistress might be returning.

She appeared to sigh after confirming that the coast was clear. She went over to a corner and disappeared behind some heavy drape curtains, making strange snuffling sounds.

Shakily, I got back on my feet and picked up my belongings. Luckily, one could eat one’s dinner off the spotless parquet flooring and, apart from some drool on my sleeve, I was relatively unharmed, although I did need to do some emergency repair work on my face, using the huge ornate gilt mirror over the massive fireplace.

There were still noises coming from behind the curtains and I wondered what the silly thing was up to. I took out my sky blue artist’s smock–well it’s really a fisherman’s one but as I’m an artist and I wear it, ergo it’s an artist’s smock, comprende? Anyway, If I was going be attacked by this mad dog again, I wanted some protection for my clothes.

I pulled it over my head and had just put my arms in the sleeves when I heard the tip-tapping of paws on the parquet. Looking up, I saw Fifi approaching with something in her mouth. My heart flipped as I noted with some alarm that it appeared to be some species of dead animal–no, bird.

She dropped it in front of me and I uttered a brave ‘Eek,’ sort of noise. A closer inspection revealed it to be a yellow rubber chicken so I sighed with relief.

‘No play time yet,’ I said sternly. ‘Work first and then play time, okay?’

Her eyebrows lifted and she looked sad and pathetic, but where work was concerned I had a heart of stone.

I went to the place where I wanted her to sit and said, ‘Right come over here.’ With a look of abject sorrow at her neglected rubber chicken, her ears and tail drooped as she came to me. I decided that she could sulk for England with that abject look.

‘Right, Fifi, be a good girl and siT,’ I said in my best Barbara Woodhouse* voice.

She sat down but her heart wasn’t in it. She looked as if she had buried a bone in the garden and forgotten where she had put it. I felt sorry for her but I had to get the sketch done. But I felt badly about having a go at her so I went over to where she was sitting.

‘Look.’ I said bending down so I was eyeball to sad, expressive eyeball, ‘If you're a good girl, we’ll play soon, okay?’

Her tail twitched and she gave me a sloppy lick on the nose, and I got the impression she understood as she also sat up a bit straighter. It was obvious that a certain amount of noblesse oblige had rubbed off from her mistress as she proceeded to sit in the same haughty position that she had adopted originally in when Lady F was there. I swear that she is more intelligent than some of my acquaintances!

Quickly, I did a preliminary sketch and taking my camera out of my bag, I took several snaps from different angles. Amazed that she hadn’t moved, yawned or even scratched herself, I went back to the sketchbook and did some more detailed work. After about five minutes, she was beginning to twitch, after six, she did yawn, at seven she lay down on the parquet floor, at eight she was asleep, and at nine she was snoring, her legs twitching as she dreamed about something energetic–doubtless chasing rubber chickens.

While she was asleep like that, looking all cute and cuddly, I did another drawing in more detail. I intended to give that drawing to Lady F as well as the more formal oil portrait. I liked to do things like that as it’s a nice thing to do and I am a nice girl, aren’t I?

After about half an hour, I had completed everything I had intended to do and put everything away in my bag. Fifi must have had some sort of early warning system, because she opened one eye and seeing that I had finished, threw herself across the room and with exceptional dexterity and athleticism, picked up the rubber chicken by the neck, did a reverse double axel turn with knobs on and ran back towards me, skidded to a stop in front of me and then promptly dropped the chicken at my feet.

‘Okay, I did promise, I suppose.’

Picking up the chicken, I threw it across the room; Fifi chased after it and grabbed it where it fell and then returned it for a repeat performance. This continued until…

‘FIFI!’

Fifi stopped dead in mid stride, turned round and sat at attention. Lady Fairbairn was at the open door looking at the dog as if she had done something rather disgusting in front of the Queen.

‘Heel!’

Fifi obeyed instantly, head bowed and looking as if she was on the way to the scaffold. I could almost hear the knitting needles clicking. She sat down next to her mistress who was looking at me reproachfully.

‘Miss Smart, I will not have my Fifi excited like this; ’tis bad for her liver. Please refrain from such activity in future or I will terminate our arrangement. I don’t know–what a day,’ she sighed; ‘had to re-employ that idiot girl I sacked: some moronic nonsense about not givin’ her written warnings and the possibility of court action. Don’t know what the world’s comin’ to. In my father’s day, you could thrash people and be applauded for it. Now, it’s all a namby-pamby, I know my rights sort of country. I blame Thatcher: she was much too lenient–especially with the miners. Have you done what you came here for?’

‘Yes, m’lady.’

‘Very well, make an appointment with Jenkins when you next need to call…good day. Come, Fifi.’

She left the room and Fifi followed, two steps behind her. Fifi looked back at me and I swear that she winked and then trotted off with her mistress.

I finished stowing everything back in my bag as Jenkins the Butler wafted in.

‘Are you ready to leave, Miss Smart?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘I will show you out. You might get lost.’

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly.

Following his measured tread, I wondered what it was that made Lady F so cross. I didn’t ask Jenkins as he wouldn’t have told me.

Eventually we came to the front doors and I was let out into freedom again. Ah that sweet smell of freedom, the sun and grass…

‘Thank you for coming, Miss.’

Snapping out of my reverie, I turned to Jenkins, a bit surprised.

‘Well, judging by the way Lady Fairbairn treated me, I’m surprised I wasn’t whipped or something.’

A slight smile played on his lips and his left eyebrow rose a couple of millimetres.

‘I don’t think you need worry, miss. M’lady likes you.’

‘She does?’ I said incredulously.

‘Erm, let me just say that Fifi isn’t the only one with a bit of a dual personality. Good day, Miss Smart.’

I waved goodbye and shaking my head I started to walk down the drive. Taking my ’phone from my bag, I rang Abby.

‘Hi Abby, it’s me, I’ve been let out and I’m walking down the drive.’

‘How was it?’

‘Don’t ask. Look are you in the pottery?’

‘Yes.’

‘I won’t drag you away from your work then, see you later.’

‘Don’t you want a lift?’ she sounded disappointed.

‘No, I need to clear my mind for a bit. Shall I come up to yours tonight?’

‘That would be nice, see you later–love you.’

‘Not as much as I love you; bye, honey.’

‘Bye, sweetheart. Oh blast, someone’s come into the shop, ’bye.’

‘’Bye.’

I returned the ’phone to my bag and made my way through the extensive grounds, out into the lane and into the village.

After twenty minutes I arrived on the quay and made a beeline for the ice cream kiosk.

‘A ninety-nine, please,’ I asked the young man behind the counter.

‘Large, extra larger or super?’

‘Extra large please.’

I took the ice cream and paid the man and began licking immediately, trying to stop the drips–erm, dripping. I sat on the harbour wall and soaked in the sunshine.

‘Note to self, get a wide brimmed hat.’

‘Hello.’

I looked up, eyes squinting in the powerful sunlight. ‘Hi Katie, and no, you can’t have a lick of my ninety-nine. I haven’t forgiven you for eating most of my saveloy and chips.’

‘Me?’ she said sitting down and eying my cone in a predatory fashion, ‘I only had a few bites.’

‘Hmm,’ I said, remembering the large number of chips she scoffed in an incredibly short time.

‘I’m glad I caught you. I was going to pop up to yours a bit later. You’ve saved me a journey.’

‘What’s wrong?’

She opened her bag, took out an envelope and handed it to me.

‘What’s this?’ I asked.

‘I think it’s from your wife. She doesn’t know your address so it was delivered by hand and left for you.’

‘Did you recognise who handed it in?’

‘No, I was in conference. My secretary said it was a man and she hadn’t seen him before.’

‘It wasn’t Nigel then?’

‘No; look, I have to go, if you need to talk, you know where I am.’

We kissed and hugged and then she was off.

I looked at the envelope and turned it over several times without opening it. Putting it in my bag, I finished my ice cream and made my way home. After dropping off my artist’s things and changing into a lemon sun dress–nice and cool on a day like this–I left the cottage and made my way to the path that led to the West Coast Walk.

My mind was on the letter and I couldn’t help wondering what was in it. I hadn’t wanted to open it, because I didn’t want to spoil what had been an interesting day; but it was too much on my mind, so after walking to my favourite spot and sitting on Rachel’s seat, I took it out of my bag and gingerly opened the envelope.

Unfolding the paper I realised immediately that it was from Olivia.

Dear Tom,

Daddy told me about his meeting with you and I’m very disappointed that you did not change your mind about leaving me.

I am sure that we can make a go of it again. All you have to do is to agree to his very reasonable terms and then everything would be all right again.

I have already apologised for being a little bit naughty and I think you are mean to not accept the apology in the spirit that it was given in.

I promise not to stray again if you come back. Yes, I did have sex with a few other blokes, but that was just sex, so it didn’t mean anything and anyway, you and I hadn’t done it together for such a long time, I thought you had gone off me or something.

You will know by now that I’m pregnant, in fact I’m twenty-eight weeks gone. I didn’t even know I WAS pregnant until after you left me: I had a tummy ache and went to the doctor and he said I was in the family way. I was so shocked, because I had no bump and my periods–always light, continued as normal.

Anyway, I don’t think I can cope with a pregnancy while all this upset is going on. I don’t think that my shattered nerves can take it. I am going to ask Daddy if I can get rid of it quietly and privately. I know that it isn’t strictly legal as they have some silly 24 week rule, but Daddy knows some people and I’m sure that he can fix it.

If you do decide to come back, we could be a family and then I won’t have to get rid of it, so do reconsider, for all our sakes. I know Daddy is worried about his knighthood, but these things can be hushed up, at a price.

Please ring me and we can talk more.

Your Loving Olivia.

XXXXX

I stayed there, sitting on Rachel’s seat for some time–it may have been hours–I don’t know. I was in a state of shock and, I suppose, too numb to think constructively. I was vaguely aware that several people passed me but I didn’t take much notice.

The shadows were lengthening as sun dipped towards the horizon. There was a coolness in the air as the breeze off the sea freshened.

Something moving caught my eye over to the left and I saw a rabbit, sniffing in the undergrowth. A moment later two small baby rabbits appeared, young and vulnerable and trying to keep up with mum…

I lost control then and started sobbing into my hands. Not long afterwards I heard a snuffling noise and looked up. Through my tears, saw the happy face of Sandy, the Labrador.

‘Hello, Sam dear, what’s the matter?’

Jocasta sat down beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. I was totally unable to control my sobbing as the floodgates opened.

_______________________
* Barbara Woodhouse, a renowned dog trainer.
See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbara_Woodhouse