Page 53 of Escape to the Country

Back in the messy cottage, he expected to drop off the dog and leave them to it. But as soon as the stray setter walked into the kitchen, one of the cats began to hiss and take a swipe at it. In panic, the setter ran to hide behind Tom’s legs.

‘I’m not sure this is going to end well.’ said Eleanor’s mum, looking worriedly at the cat. ‘Trouble is, Samson’s owners aren’t due back from holiday for another week and he’s something of a terror.’

When the cat went for the dog again and began to chase him around the kitchen table, they were all almost knocked off their feet in the mayhem.

So Tom made his decision. ‘Look, you’re obviously not quite up to homing another stray at the minute,’ he said. ‘How about I keep the dog up at the house whilst we wait for someone to claim him.’

Eleanor’s mum looked surprised but pleased. ‘How lovely of you to suggest that. Where are you staying?’

‘At Willow Tree Hall,’ Eleanor told her.

Her mum looked surprised. ‘Oh. Are you a friend of Sam’s?’

Tom nodded, still grateful for the anonymity. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, hopefully it’ll be all right with Arthur.’

‘I’ll text Annie and check with her,’ said Eleanor.

Tom knelt down and stroked the dog’s head whilst Eleanor sent a text to Annie.

‘How about you come home with me, mate,’ said Tom, softly. ‘I know what it’s like to be unwanted.’

He felt Eleanor glance back at him, but she didn’t say anything.

He carried on stroking the soft fur, as the pair of big brown eyes stared up at him. The dog was obviously wondering whether he could trust yet another human or if he would be let down again. Tom suddenly felt a connection between them. Both unwanted strays, desperate to trust the next person they met but not believing anything too good to be true.

Eleanor’s mum handed him a small bag of treats and some dog food. ‘That should keep you going for a couple of days. Just in case.’

‘Annie says it’s fine to bring the dog home,’ said Eleanor, looking up from her phone.

‘Wonderful,’ said her mum, smiling. ‘Now then, he’ll need a name in the meantime, of course.’

‘No, he doesn’t, Mum,’ said Eleanor, in an exasperated tone.

‘Nonsense.’ Eleanor’s mum turned to face Tom. ‘You found him, Tom. What do you think?’

He glanced down into the dog’s big brown eyes. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never named a dog before.’

‘Well, there’s always Snoopy or Scooby Doo,’ said her mum.

Tom grimaced. ‘I’m not sure about that.’

He glanced over at Eleanor who was trying and failing to smother a smile. ‘How about your favourite singer?’ she prompted.

She was obviously enjoying the fact that her mum didn’t have a clue who he was.

‘I’ve got so many,’ he told her. ‘I dunno. The Stones. Eminem. Bob Dylan…’

‘How about Dylan?’ said Eleanor, nodding her approval.

Tom leant down to the dog again. ‘What do you think, boy? Do you like the name Dylan?’

The dog wagged its tail.

‘Dylan it is then,’ he said, breaking into a grin.

‘Oh! You are a true doggy person!’ said her mum, smiling tearily at him. ‘That’s lovely. I’m sure he’ll be fine with you. Now, I’ve written down the food instructions. Just light meals to start off with until we know how he gets on. Who knows what he’s been living on. Plenty of accessible water. Let me know if you have any questions.’