Page 13 of All Wrapped Up

Pixie had an eager root about, while I refilled the birdfeeders and cut a few of my favourite pompom dahlias that the rain hadn’t ruined for displaying in the house.

I had a fabulous Emma Bridgewater Black Toast jar which made the perfect vase for them and they’d look good on my grid.

I stopped what I was doing to watch Pixie, who was drinking out of one of the birdbaths.

She’d look great on my grid, too, but would be a dead giveaway about my Insta identity to anyone who knew her and me.

‘Come on!’ I called, when she started to show a rather too keen interest in the feeders hanging off the bird table and I felt a few heavy spots of rain. ‘Time to go back in.’

The utility and kitchen floor was covered in wet little footprints within seconds of closing the back door and I quickly realised what the towels Ash had included in Pixie’s bag were for.

‘Stand still then,’ I laughed, as I attempted to dry her feet and she scampered about and tried to lick my face.

Her tail was working like a rudder and I was relieved to find that she had accepted her unexpected sleepover with such good grace.

That said, we hadn’t tried to sleep yet…

She wasn’t keen on the mop I washed the floors with and retreated to my armchair, where we later whiled away the afternoon curled up under a fleecy blanket and watched both Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail .

‘Ash,’ I yawned, when my phone woke me from a nap I hadn’t expected to take, and I saw his number on the screen of my phone.

I’d got a stiff arm thanks to Pixie’s dead weight laying on it but I didn’t mind that, because it had been cosy to cuddle and I was very much enjoying her company.

Had she not been visiting, I daresay I would have still been dug deep into the fug I’d fallen into as a result of the failed festival meeting, but having her to consider had pulled focus away from me and my woes and embarrassment, and I was both mindful and appreciative of that.

‘Clemmie?’

‘Sorry,’ I apologised, stretching a bit as Pixie jumped down, then headed for the kitchen. ‘I was asleep. How are you getting on? How’s your nan?’

I heard Pixie bark and got up to see what she wanted. The pins and needles in my legs, which had been curled under me, made walking agony and I was pleased there was no one there to see me as I hobbled along.

‘Was that Pixie?’ Ash asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think she wants to go out.’

She was certainly looking very pointedly at the back door. I opened it for her and she dashed off.

‘She’ll always let you know,’ Ash said. ‘Are you getting on okay?’

‘Yes, we’re absolutely fine. We’ve just had a lovely nap. But what about you?’ I asked again.

‘Better than expected,’ he happily said.

‘Thank goodness.’

‘Nan’s definitely had a stroke, but it’s quite a mild one.’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘It really is. Mum was in a flap, not surprisingly, when she phoned, but the prognosis is looking good and as soon as Nan’s up to it and her consultant is happy, she’s going to move in with Mum and Dad.

It’s something they’ve been talking about for a while and they’ve got this little annexe at the side of the house, which is where I was living before I moved to Wynbridge, so that will be perfect for her. ’

‘Well,’ I said, as I considered everything he’d shared. ‘I’m sorry it’s happened at all, obviously, but I’m pleased everything is going to work out and that you were able to get there so quickly.’

‘It would have been a nightmare with Pixie,’ he told me, ‘so I really do appreciate you taking her at such short notice.’

‘It was my pleasure and don’t give us another thought,’ I told him, as Pixie trotted back in with wet paws again and I realised I should have put the towel down for her to walk over. ‘We’re having a wonderful time.’

‘That’s a weight off my mind,’ he said, then had to go.

I was pleased to have heard from him and even more pleased that the outcome for his nan was sounding so positive. I wasn’t quite so pleased about the state of my floors, however, as Pixie chose that moment to skitter about and shake and made even more of a muddy mess.

That evening, I felt a little apprehensive as bedtime approached, but it all turned out fine.

I had made a vague attempt to settle Pixie in her bed, but didn’t stop her when she jumped out and followed me up the stairs to my room.

She had soon snuggled down next to me and my only complaint was that she was a bit of a snorer, but she didn’t hog the bed or scamper about in the night, so I soon forgave her that.

In fact, when I woke with sunlight streaming through the bedroom curtains, I realised I must have quickly tuned her snuffling out and that I’d enjoyed the best and longest night’s sleep I’d had in years.

‘Good morning, my friend,’ I smiled, when I opened my eyes and found her looking intently at me. ‘Are you all right?’

Her head dropped on to her paws and she let out a little whimper.

‘Oh, Pixie.’ I swallowed. ‘It’s okay.’

I had a horrible feeling that she had just experienced something I myself had been through many times before, though thankfully, not recently.

In the time since Callum had died, I’d lost count of the number of mornings I’d woken and just for a second, I had forgotten that he was gone.

The agony of then remembering what had happened was awful and it was my guess that Pixie had opened her eyes and recalled what had happened to her and her owner, too.

‘It will get easier,’ I said, leaning over and kissing her wiry head. ‘You will feel better one day and for more than just a few minutes and then a few hours at a time. I promise.’

She huffed out a breath, but didn’t move.

‘Come on,’ I said, sitting up. ‘Let’s go and greet the day.’

It was, in part, the little things that had saved my sanity. The dishes that had to be cleared, the laundry that had to be washed. The domestic tasks had given me routine and occupation and I hoped that letting Pixie into the garden and then giving her some breakfast might help distract her.

‘Hello, Mum. Hey, Dad,’ I said a while later, with Pixie looking much happier and balanced on my lap, so she could clearly be seen on the screen.

I had decided to bite the bullet and tell my parents that there had been an unexpected change of plan and that the event I had said I was going to be involved with in town was now a non-starter.

I was probably making more of the explan-ation than was necessary, but I knew they had both been worried about what I was going to do now the cottage renovation was complete and had therefore taken the opportunity to rope Pixie in to help.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ Mum gasped, the moment she saw her, which was exactly the reaction I had been hoping to elicit.

‘Who’s that little cutie?’ Dad joined in, moving closer to the screen.

‘This,’ I said, kissing the top of Pixie’s head and receiving a chin lick in return, ‘is my pal, Pixie.’

‘Hello, Pixie.’ Mum beamed.

‘Is she yours?’ asked Dad.

‘No,’ I said. ‘She’s not mine. I’m dog-sitting for a friend. She’ll be going home later.’ That was something else I wasn’t keen on. I was going to miss her padding about the place and muddying it up. ‘I thought you might like to say hello before she gets picked up.’

‘We like that very much,’ said Dad.

‘No wonder I haven’t been able to get hold of you,’ said Mum, assuming that I had been preoccupied with Pixie for the last few days.

I didn’t correct her and it occurred to me that Pixie was providing both a distraction and confirmation that I had friends in the Fens.

You’d have to know someone pretty well to ask them to look after your dog.

Ash might have been desperate for help, rather than having been my friend for months, but Mum and Dad didn’t know that and actually, I was pleased Ash had called on me in his hour of need. It was nice to feel trusted.

‘She’s certainly kept me on my toes.’ I smiled, as I kissed her again.

‘And what about this big town event?’ Mum asked. ‘Is that keeping you busy, too?’

Pixie chose that moment to jump down and wander off, but I didn’t mind because she’d got the call off to a great start.

‘Sadly not,’ I sighed. ‘It’s now been decided that there’s not enough people available to support it. Health and safety and all that, so it isn’t going to happen.’

That was one way of putting it. Definitely a creative and positive spin on the truth.

‘Oh, no,’ said Mum. ‘That’s such a shame.’

‘I’m really sorry about that, love,’ added Dad.

‘Yes.’ I swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, too. I was rather looking forward to it.’

I gave my ideas notebook a cursory look and realised that as well as still smarting over what Jason the jeerer had put me through, I was upset that what could have been a wonderful celebration of autumn, wasn’t going to be happening, either.

‘Will you still want us to come down?’ asked Mum.

‘Absolutely,’ I said, without hesitation. ‘I miss you guys and I can’t wait to show you all of the finishing touches I’ve given to the cottage.’

They both looked delighted about that.

‘And this time,’ laughed Dad, ‘because I won’t be up to my ears in plasterboard and grout, there might be time and opportunity for you to introduce us to your friends.’

‘And Pixie!’ Mum added.

Pixie ran back over to me at the sound of her name and I scooped her up again and knocked over the phone.

‘We’ll get a date in the diary soon,’ I promised, once I’d set it straight again. ‘I’d love you to come before the pumpkins are all harvested. You won’t believe what the fields around here look like when they’re at their peak.’

‘We got a bit of an idea from the photos you shared last year,’ Mum reminded me, ‘but it will be wonderful to see them for ourselves, won’t it, Dave?’

‘Trust you to focus on the most autumnal thing imaginable, Clem!’ Dad laughed.

‘You know me,’ I laughed back, thinking of Moses again and wishing I had met him. ‘Autumn is literally my everything!’