Raincoats and Retrievers

Cat shook her head. ‘You’ve been busy, it’s OK.’

‘It’s not. I have been distracted, with the move, the new film. But I don’t want you to think that you’ve been an afterthought. You haven’t.’

‘OK.’ Cat swallowed. ‘Thank you. I did wonder if we were going to sidestep around each other for ever. But this is – this is great. Getting to know you. A little bit, anyway.’

‘This isn’t a one-off,’ Mark said. ‘At least, I don’t want it to be. But what do you think? It hasn’t been a total disaster, has it?’ His thumb stroked her hand.

‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘Despite the threat of beetroot and seaweed, I think it’s going well.’

The candle cast shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks, and his skin looked dark against the crisp white of his shirt. Cat shivered and rearranged her serviette on her knee.

‘Are you cold?’

‘No, I’m fine. How’s Chips?’

‘She’s good,’ Mark said. ‘I took her for an extra-long walk this afternoon, through the park and up along the cliffs, so hopefully she’s tired out and not missing me too much. You have a cat, don’t you? What’s his name?’

‘Shed. He’s OK, though he’s not actually mine, he’s Joe’s. I wouldn’t have picked a grumpy ginger cat as a pet.’

‘It’s always puzzled me, why you don’t have a dog of your own.’

Cat gave him a quick smile. She didn’t want to say anything to turn Mark against Joe. If things kept going in the right direction, she wanted them to be friends. ‘It’s not practical with Shed there, he can only just tolerate human company. But I’m not short of canine companions. The Barkers’ retrievers are lovely – quite different to the schnauzers or the Westies. They’re strong and they like long walks, but they’re very affectionate, playful. I somehow feel more confident when I’m walking them.’

‘I don’t think I know the Barkers.’

‘They live at number six. In their forties I think, their kids are grown up and off being independent, and Will and Juliette both have quite high-powered jobs. Juliette works at home some days, but when she’s in the office I take Alfie and Effie out. Will likes surfing. There’s quite a bit of it around here, apparently.’

‘Now that’s something I haven’t tried,’ Mark said.

‘Would you like to?’

‘Oh, I’m up for anything once.’

Cat narrowed her eyes. ‘Anything? Even eating a fugu fish or swimming with sharks?’

‘Sure.’ Mark shrugged. ‘Why are your fears so marine-based?’

‘They’re not – those things just popped into my head. I love the sea. I suppose if your passion is horror, you don’t scare particularly easily.’

‘Other things scare me,’ Mark said. ‘Unpredictable things.’

‘Like what?’ Cat asked, and then, because it was going so well and she wanted to try and match Mark for playfulness while also doing a bit of digging, added, ‘Because saying you’re afraid of commitment isn’t unpredictable.’

Mark grinned. ‘I know that. You’re doing me a disservice, that’s not what I was going to say. And I’m not afraid of commitment. I was in a long relationship, before this.’ His grin faded, but he held Cat’s gaze.

‘How long have you been single?’ she asked quietly.

Now he did look away. ‘Nearly a year.’

‘And how long were you together?’

‘Six years,’ Mark said. ‘Moving down here was – is – part of the fallout. Getting some space, starting again.’

‘Six years is a long time,’ Cat said, thinking of the photo of the woman on Mark’s fridge door. But if they’d broken up…‘She must have meant a lot to you.’

‘She did,’ Mark said. ‘You can’t be with someone for that long and not feel it when it ends. But it did, and you get past it. It’s how life works. And tonight, this – with you – it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.’

He took her hand again, and Cat opened her mouth to reply, but the moment was broken by the waiter delivering their desserts to the table. Cat looked down at the pale yellow blancmange, the blob of vivid pink foam and golden sugar decoration. She dipped her spoon in and brought it to her lips, her eyes widening as the flavours hit her tongue. ‘Wow,’ she mumbled, ‘indecipherable food is delicious.’

After Mark had refused to let her go Dutch and had paid the bill, and they’d finally pushed their chairs back from the table, the restaurant was nearly deserted. The three courses and coffee had gone some way to counteracting the most of a bottle of champagne that Cat had drunk, but she was still feeling a warm, hazy glow.

They stepped out into the night-time breeze and Mark wrapped his arm around her waist. He opened the car door for her but before she’d had time to get in, he cupped her face, pulled her towards him and kissed her. It felt delicious, her whole body tingling in response to his lips on hers, and the whisper of the hilltop breeze. She wrapped her arms around him, his warmth contrasting with the goosebumps on her arms.

They were quiet on the drive home, Cat breathless from the kiss, and the anticipation of what could happen when they got back to Primrose Terrace. The lights of the town winked in the darkness as the Audi purred down the hill, into Fairhaven and then the more familiar streets of Fairview, finally stopping outside Mark’s house. He leaned over and kissed her again, his fingers caressing her neck.

‘Did you want to come inside?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Cat waited for Mark’s smirk, his wide, charming grin, but he just nodded and climbed out, opening the door for her.

They made it up his front steps before he kissed her again, enclosing her in his arms under the soft glow of the hanging lantern over the front door. Cat let herself be drawn in. She had almost lost herself to him completely when a familiar voice called up to them.

‘Cat, is that you?’ She broke away and turned, blinking quickly, and saw Juliette Barker, her black corkscrew curls pulled away from her face, hands clasped in front of her. She was wearing a cream business suit that looked almost peach under the street light. Cat thought for an awful moment she was about to be told off for kissing in public.

‘Juliette. Hi. How are you?’

Juliette nodded and gave a quick smile. ‘Fine, fine. Sorry to disturb, but could you walk Effie and Alfie tomorrow? Only Will had toldme he was going to be at home all day, and I’ve arranged a series of important meetings in the office, but now he’s got some surfing meet-up that he apparently has to attend. Anyway, he can’t take the dogs and nor can I. Are you around? I was coming to your place but I looked in this direction and –’ She indicated the pair of them standing, post-snog, on the doorstep.

‘O-of course I can fit them in,’ Cat said. Mark ran his fingers up Cat’s back and she tried to shimmy away from him. ‘What time?’

‘Eleven? They’ll be running rings round the furniture by then, and I –’ She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Sorry, this is incredibly rude of me. I can see you’re in the middle of…’

‘It’s no problem,’ Cat said, not wanting to get into a discussion with her neighbour about what she was or wasn’t in the middle of. ‘They’re such lovely dogs, and sometimes things don’t fit easily into working hours.’ She smiled, and Juliette seemed to relax a little.

‘Great, thank you.’ She glanced between them. ‘You’re Mark, aren’t you?’

‘Guilty as charged,’ Mark said, holding his hand up in a static wave. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Do you like surfing?’

‘Never tried it,’ Mark admitted. ‘Your husband, Will, he enjoys it?’

‘Far too much,’ Juliette said. ‘Well, maybe that’s unfair. He enjoys it at the expense of almost everything else. I know it’s a good hobby, it keeps him fit, he gets lots of fresh air – but he seems so obsessed with it. He spends his life down at that cove. Why do men get so obsessed with things? It doesn’t seem healthy.’

‘I get obsessive,’ Mark said. ‘Not about surfing, but my work – my writing.’

‘And Joe, my housemate,’ Cat joined in, ‘is anal when it comes to so many things. Feet on the coffee table, talking during films, dogs in the house…’ she added quietly. ‘I think it’s just a man thing.’

‘He used to be obsessed about work,’ Juliette said ruefully. ‘But not any more. Now it’s new wetsuits, streamlining his board, catching the waves – as if they don’t happen every hour of every day. He’s started talking in a new language – it’s all “hang fire”, or, no, what is it? I’m sure it’s “hang” something. I can’t remember.’ She sighed and shook her head, a curl escaping and falling over her face.