Page 4

Jacob ran over, reaching out to help the woman up. ‘Are you all right?’

Clearly elderly, she was too old to be pushing a pram, but perhaps it was a grandmotherly outing. Jacob went to pick up the pram but found it empty. With a frown, he looked back at the woman.

‘Oh, my dear Roy, this hideous wind blew him away.’

Jacob spun around, wondering who or what Roy was. The pram contained only a tatty blanket. A little plastic bowl had fallen to the pavement, bits of brown scattered around it, now soaking up fat drops of rain.

Dog biscuits. Jacob nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. Not a child at least. Roy had to be a dog. He looked around, trying to see where any dog might be hiding. There was a narrow gap between two nearby shops, a weed-strewn space occupied by drainpipes and cooler units. If Roy was in there, he had to be a pretty small dog but Jacob couldn’t see anything moving. He looked up and down the street, wondering where the dog might have gone.

‘Oh, Roy, where are you? Come back, Roy. Don’t leave me alone again.’

‘I’ll find him, don’t worry,’ Jacob said. ‘Perhaps you should wait inside that shop doorway.’ He waved at the covered entrance to a home furnishings shop.

‘I couldn’t leave him out here alone,’ the woman said, clutching her hat to stop it blowing away as the wind buffeted the brittle grey hair it held down.

Jacob looked up and down the street again, then caught sight of something rolling up beside a wheelie bin. He frowned, moved closer to get a better look.

A tatty toy dog, black and white, one ear chewed, one button eye holding on by a thread. Dirty from the pavement, probably dirty before. He reached down and picked it up. The fur was threadbare in places, a couple of the seams had come loose. Cradling the toy like he would a real dog, Jacob turned back to the old lady.

‘I think I found him,’ he said.

‘Oh, my Roy! Thank goodness! Where did you get to, you naughty dog? You’ll catch your death out here.’

Jacob could only feel a sense of pity as the old lady scooped Roy out of his hands, brushing off the dirt, stroking his ears. Jacob pointed at the pram. ‘You’d best get him dried off, but if you keep him warm, he’ll be all right.’

‘Thank you so much, young man,’ the old woman said, tucking Roy under his blanket and then turning back to pat Jacob on the arm. ‘Let me give you a pound for your trouble.’

She started to reach into her pocket, but Jacob shook his head. ‘I’d much rather you … bought something for Roy. Something to … cheer him up after the fright that he’s had.’

‘Oh, yes. That’s very kind of you.’

As she turned back to the pram, eyes glazing over as her focus returned to her dog, he added, ‘By the way, I work down the road at Aunt Marjorie’s Tea Room. If you’re passing sometime, why don’t you and Roy stop in for a cup of tea? We’ll be doing a Christmas special for pensioners.’

‘Oh, how kind of you. Is it okay for pets?’

Jacob smiled. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’

‘Lovely. Thank you again, young man.’

He watched as she pushed the pram up the street, occasional gusts of wind threatening to make her topple over. At the top of the street, she turned into the lobby of a block of retirement flats on the corner. Jacob waited for a couple of minutes to see if she would reappear, then when satisfied she had reached home safely, he crossed the high street and turned into Ember Lane. A short way down, he reached Daphne’s place sandwiched between a bakery and an artisan shoe shop.

Daphne looked as though she had been transported out of a Moroccan souk. Jacob estimated she was about his aunt’s age, but dressed in swirling purple and burnt orange shawls that covered her hair and neck, it was hard to tell. The way she bustled through the cramped confines of her shop without knocking anything off the awkwardly placed tables or getting tangled in the tassels and beads that hung from the ceiling required an artistic grace. As Jacob went inside, nudged a set of hanging scarves off with his shoulder and nearly knocked over a table of different coloured beads and marbles in little wicker trays, Daphne lifted a hand in greeting.

‘Ah, Jacob, my dear, I was thinking you’d been blown away.’

As always, the scent of spices mixed with incense filled the shop, but there was something over the top of it, something familiar. Coffee.

‘I managed to survive, but it’s brutal out there.’

‘I made a pot in case you need a pitstop before the arduous journey back.’

He smiled. ‘Thank you, I’d love one. How’s life in … um, Spice World?’

Daphne chuckled. ‘I could tell you what I want, what I … but anyway, I’d settle for Exeter City to end their losing run. Four defeats on the bounce, not a home win in six.’

Jacob grinned. ‘The heartbreaks of supporting a lower-league team,’ he said. ‘I’ve been telling you forever to just do what kids at school always did and support whoever’s at the top. You can’t go wrong with a bit of glory-hunting.’

‘Not a chance,’ Daphne said. ‘I’d be betraying my family legacy. Have I told you that my dad played left back for The Grecians back in the sixties?’