him away.
Not only had she denied herself the love of her life, for no man would ever, could ever fill the gap Bram left behind, but she’d denied her daughter the love of a wonderful father and the possibility of brothers and sisters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
An assortment of dogs greeted them when they arrived at the big apartment over the surgery. Regan was overwhelmed. She loved dogs and would have a houseful herself if she could. But Bram always used to say he’d wait until he had a proper home and a family before he had any pets.
So what had changed?
“Where did they all come from?” she asked as she struggled to make sure each and every one got a stroke. “They’re all lovely.”
“Lovely, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “They were all on death row at one time or another for various reasons.”
She spotted the cats who were watching the dogs making fools of themselves and went to tickle their ears.
“This doesn’t surprise me, Bram. You always said you’d like a house full of dogs, cats and kids.” Oops, she hadn’t meant to mention kids. It was tactless in the extreme considering what she had to tell him. “But I thought you were going to wait? And where’s the border collie you always said you’d have once you settled down?”
He laughed. “I haven’t got round to that yet. I’ve had Pixie and Barney longest. They’re ex-racing greyhounds. Then I got George, the little staffy. Fern is a staffy cross and that little spaniel cross is called Regan.”
The spaniel had chocolate curls and large brown eyes.
“You’re kidding! You called your dog after me?” Regan said. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Well look at her! Same colour hair, same big, sad eyes. Besides, she didn’t have a name when I got her. She was a breeding bitch from a puppy farm who’d outlived her usefulness and she was half dead when I took her in. She’s a plucky little thing though. A real fighter. I call her Rags for short.”
As soon as Regan sat down, Rags jumped onto her lap and rested her head on Regan’s chest, gazing up at her. Poor little thing must have been so completely starved of affection, she was making up for it now.
“I hate puppy farms,” Regan said vehemently.
“So do I,” Bram said. “The one where Rags was kept prisoner – because it is like being in prison, probably worse – was shut down. We managed to find homes for all the dogs.”
“That’s so lovely, that you found them homes I mean.”
“I was living in a camper van,” Bram went on. “You might have seen it parked out the back. It was another reason for taking over this place. We were running out of room.”
Regan laughed.
“I should think you were.”
“I’m going to run you a bath and leave you to soak while I get us something to eat,” he said.
“There’s no need…”
“Stop turning down help when it’s offered. This is how it’s going to be, Regan. You’re going to have a bath and get all those cuts and grazes clean. I am going to dress them and then we are going to sit down and eat a meal together. After that I’ll take you home… if you still want to go.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. A soak in the bath would be wonderful and very welcome. But of course she would still want to go. She could fight with him about walking home later on. She smelled of the beach and while that smell was there to remind her, her thoughts constantly returned to little Jay.
“Stop torturing yourself,” Bram said, jerking her out of her thoughts. “I can see it on your face. I know you’re not going to forget about what happened, but going over and over it won’t change anything.”
The dogs, as all dogs do, sensed that she was upset and had piled up around her on the sofa and on her feet. She was absent mindedly stroking them. One of the cats had appeared on the back of the sofa behind her and was gently patting her head
Not only had she denied herself the love of her life, for no man would ever, could ever fill the gap Bram left behind, but she’d denied her daughter the love of a wonderful father and the possibility of brothers and sisters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
An assortment of dogs greeted them when they arrived at the big apartment over the surgery. Regan was overwhelmed. She loved dogs and would have a houseful herself if she could. But Bram always used to say he’d wait until he had a proper home and a family before he had any pets.
So what had changed?
“Where did they all come from?” she asked as she struggled to make sure each and every one got a stroke. “They’re all lovely.”
“Lovely, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “They were all on death row at one time or another for various reasons.”
She spotted the cats who were watching the dogs making fools of themselves and went to tickle their ears.
“This doesn’t surprise me, Bram. You always said you’d like a house full of dogs, cats and kids.” Oops, she hadn’t meant to mention kids. It was tactless in the extreme considering what she had to tell him. “But I thought you were going to wait? And where’s the border collie you always said you’d have once you settled down?”
He laughed. “I haven’t got round to that yet. I’ve had Pixie and Barney longest. They’re ex-racing greyhounds. Then I got George, the little staffy. Fern is a staffy cross and that little spaniel cross is called Regan.”
The spaniel had chocolate curls and large brown eyes.
“You’re kidding! You called your dog after me?” Regan said. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Well look at her! Same colour hair, same big, sad eyes. Besides, she didn’t have a name when I got her. She was a breeding bitch from a puppy farm who’d outlived her usefulness and she was half dead when I took her in. She’s a plucky little thing though. A real fighter. I call her Rags for short.”
As soon as Regan sat down, Rags jumped onto her lap and rested her head on Regan’s chest, gazing up at her. Poor little thing must have been so completely starved of affection, she was making up for it now.
“I hate puppy farms,” Regan said vehemently.
“So do I,” Bram said. “The one where Rags was kept prisoner – because it is like being in prison, probably worse – was shut down. We managed to find homes for all the dogs.”
“That’s so lovely, that you found them homes I mean.”
“I was living in a camper van,” Bram went on. “You might have seen it parked out the back. It was another reason for taking over this place. We were running out of room.”
Regan laughed.
“I should think you were.”
“I’m going to run you a bath and leave you to soak while I get us something to eat,” he said.
“There’s no need…”
“Stop turning down help when it’s offered. This is how it’s going to be, Regan. You’re going to have a bath and get all those cuts and grazes clean. I am going to dress them and then we are going to sit down and eat a meal together. After that I’ll take you home… if you still want to go.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. A soak in the bath would be wonderful and very welcome. But of course she would still want to go. She could fight with him about walking home later on. She smelled of the beach and while that smell was there to remind her, her thoughts constantly returned to little Jay.
“Stop torturing yourself,” Bram said, jerking her out of her thoughts. “I can see it on your face. I know you’re not going to forget about what happened, but going over and over it won’t change anything.”
The dogs, as all dogs do, sensed that she was upset and had piled up around her on the sofa and on her feet. She was absent mindedly stroking them. One of the cats had appeared on the back of the sofa behind her and was gently patting her head
Similar Books
