let Ethan slide onto his lap. ‘It’s kind of a picture of the ground, from above.’
Ethan smelled of the porridge he’d eaten at breakfast. ‘What’s that?’ He stabbed the map with a pudgy thumb, which he often stored in his mouth between sentences, leaving a damp thumbprint.
‘The green bit? Grass. The blue patch, here, is a lake, these spiky things are trees that don’t lose their leaves and the cloudy shapes are trees that do.’
‘And what are they?’ The thumb besmirched the paper at a different spot.
‘Buildings. And see these black lines? When they get close together, it shows that there’s a hill. The lake’s between two hills and the buildings are on top of one.’ After breathing hard on the map and adding an artistic array of thumbprints, Ethan wriggled back down to his Duplo, leaving Dominic to study the no-longer-pristine map in peace. But when he folded it into a clear sleeve and rose to extricate his walking boots from the pile of footwear beside the back door, he found not only Crosswind dancing around his legs, but Ethan, too. ‘I come wid you, Dommynic?’
Dominic met the little boy’s eager eyes regretfully. ‘Sorry, Ethe. I’m going too far for you this morning. But I’ll take you to the swings this afternoon.’
The little face sagged into instant misery. ‘Caaaan’t I coooome nooo-ooow …?’
With an apologetic look at Miranda, Dominic repeated, ‘Later, mate,’ tucked a bottle of water guiltily into his hiking jacket, leaving his cousin to cheer her son with a story from Ethan’s favourite book of folk tales which, from Ethan’s grumpy face, didn’t make up for Dominic’s monstrous betrayal.
Crosswind bounced like a toy along the narrow pavements of the village, jumping up every few strides to nudge Dominic’s hand with a wet nose. But, as soon as they cleared the houses and Dominic unhooked the lead, the little terrier settled down to the serious job of snuffling the hedgerows, tail quivering with joy, leaving Dominic free to fall into the rhythmic stride that he could keep up for hours, first along the verges and then onto a footpath. He breathed in the sharp air, enjoying the feel of his muscles bunching and blood pulsing through his veins.
After a couple of miles he took out the map to compare it to the land he was approaching: a coppice, then coniferous trees that looked as if they ought to have a star on top for Christmas marching up packed contour lines of grassland from a pale blue comma lake. The big slope that rose up to The Stables. The small dash footpath that Crosswind was happily exploring by nose was joined by a larger dash bridleway where the hawthorn hedges funnelled the wind, combing Crosswind’s fur and rattling streams of dry golden leaves along the ground. At the lake, Dominic clicked the lead back onto Crosswind’s collar and climbed the steep greensward, breasting the hill in front of The Stables, pale grey stone sparkling with lichen in the autumn sunlight. He took the water bottle from inside his jacket, along with the small collapsible bowl that lived in one of the many mesh inner pockets. He took a couple of swallows from the bottle, expanded the bowl and poured Crosswind’s drink, then tied the lead to a drainpipe. ‘Crosswind, down. Stay.’ Crosswind lay down slowly, too well mannered to complain, but eyes full of wounded reproach.
Dominic rubbed the dog’s silky ears. ‘Yeah, I know. I won’t be long.’
Through the black-painted door, and Dominic stepped into the cool and quiet interior, smiling at Pippa at the front desk.
‘Hiya!’ She beamed, obviously beginning to view him as a regular visitor.
‘Is Nicolas in?’
‘Let me find out.’ And she disappeared up the short passageway. Dominic’s eyes followed her so far, but then slid to the closed door of Liza Reece’s treatment room.
Pippa bounced back. ‘Nicolas says to go in.’
So he turned his mind away from Liza and to the task in hand, shucking out of his
Ethan smelled of the porridge he’d eaten at breakfast. ‘What’s that?’ He stabbed the map with a pudgy thumb, which he often stored in his mouth between sentences, leaving a damp thumbprint.
‘The green bit? Grass. The blue patch, here, is a lake, these spiky things are trees that don’t lose their leaves and the cloudy shapes are trees that do.’
‘And what are they?’ The thumb besmirched the paper at a different spot.
‘Buildings. And see these black lines? When they get close together, it shows that there’s a hill. The lake’s between two hills and the buildings are on top of one.’ After breathing hard on the map and adding an artistic array of thumbprints, Ethan wriggled back down to his Duplo, leaving Dominic to study the no-longer-pristine map in peace. But when he folded it into a clear sleeve and rose to extricate his walking boots from the pile of footwear beside the back door, he found not only Crosswind dancing around his legs, but Ethan, too. ‘I come wid you, Dommynic?’
Dominic met the little boy’s eager eyes regretfully. ‘Sorry, Ethe. I’m going too far for you this morning. But I’ll take you to the swings this afternoon.’
The little face sagged into instant misery. ‘Caaaan’t I coooome nooo-ooow …?’
With an apologetic look at Miranda, Dominic repeated, ‘Later, mate,’ tucked a bottle of water guiltily into his hiking jacket, leaving his cousin to cheer her son with a story from Ethan’s favourite book of folk tales which, from Ethan’s grumpy face, didn’t make up for Dominic’s monstrous betrayal.
Crosswind bounced like a toy along the narrow pavements of the village, jumping up every few strides to nudge Dominic’s hand with a wet nose. But, as soon as they cleared the houses and Dominic unhooked the lead, the little terrier settled down to the serious job of snuffling the hedgerows, tail quivering with joy, leaving Dominic free to fall into the rhythmic stride that he could keep up for hours, first along the verges and then onto a footpath. He breathed in the sharp air, enjoying the feel of his muscles bunching and blood pulsing through his veins.
After a couple of miles he took out the map to compare it to the land he was approaching: a coppice, then coniferous trees that looked as if they ought to have a star on top for Christmas marching up packed contour lines of grassland from a pale blue comma lake. The big slope that rose up to The Stables. The small dash footpath that Crosswind was happily exploring by nose was joined by a larger dash bridleway where the hawthorn hedges funnelled the wind, combing Crosswind’s fur and rattling streams of dry golden leaves along the ground. At the lake, Dominic clicked the lead back onto Crosswind’s collar and climbed the steep greensward, breasting the hill in front of The Stables, pale grey stone sparkling with lichen in the autumn sunlight. He took the water bottle from inside his jacket, along with the small collapsible bowl that lived in one of the many mesh inner pockets. He took a couple of swallows from the bottle, expanded the bowl and poured Crosswind’s drink, then tied the lead to a drainpipe. ‘Crosswind, down. Stay.’ Crosswind lay down slowly, too well mannered to complain, but eyes full of wounded reproach.
Dominic rubbed the dog’s silky ears. ‘Yeah, I know. I won’t be long.’
Through the black-painted door, and Dominic stepped into the cool and quiet interior, smiling at Pippa at the front desk.
‘Hiya!’ She beamed, obviously beginning to view him as a regular visitor.
‘Is Nicolas in?’
‘Let me find out.’ And she disappeared up the short passageway. Dominic’s eyes followed her so far, but then slid to the closed door of Liza Reece’s treatment room.
Pippa bounced back. ‘Nicolas says to go in.’
So he turned his mind away from Liza and to the task in hand, shucking out of his
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