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Chapter 25
Ron hesitated slightly as he rounded a corner. The house was still some distance away, but he knew the view from those large picture windows quite intimately, and if anyone was looking out through them they’d be able to see him. He didn’t know whether that was a good thing if they had prior warning of his arrival, or a bad one.
His heart in his mouth, he picked up the pace, and as he did so Pepe struggled to get down.
Confident that the dog would walk to heel and not dash out into the road or run on ahead, Ron gently put him on the ground.
‘Heel,’ he commanded and clicked his fingers, and the dog obediently moved behind him to walk on his left-hand side, Pepe’s nose almost touching Ron’s calf.
Ron squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. This wasn’t going to be easy but he’d get through it. Whatever their reaction (relief from Beverley? disgust from Helen?) it wouldn’t last, and he’d soon be able to put it behind him.
As he’d made the return journey, various thoughts had swirled through his head, one of them being that Beverley might be absolutely delighted to have her dog back, but might not be so pleased about Ron’s reappearance. He knew that she cared for him, but now that he’d made the break, she might actually be relieved to have her house back to herself.
Deciding to play it by ear, he told himself not to have any expectations. If Beverley assumed that he’d be returning to Brighton with her, he’d need to have an open and honest discussion with her to make sure that was what she really wanted. He didn’t want to impose.
As he grew closer, the house looming ever larger, he focused his gaze on the living room windows and the terrace. He hadn’t expected to see any movement because of the way the glass was configured, but he still wondered if anyone was in. The cars were there, but everyone might be out looking for the dog, like the last time Pepe had escaped.
If that was the case, he guessed that Helen was possibly in the house on her own, and his heart sank because he knew what would happen. He’d hand the dog over, she’d say thank you, and then she’d probably close the door in his face and he’d be on his way again.
So be it. He wouldn’t argue. His attitude might be fatalistic, but the way the dice had rolled recently and in light of his newfound awareness, he’d leave it up to the gods to decide his fate.
With Pepe following closely behind, Ron crossed over the road and walked up the drive, his eyes flitting from window to window. Feeling apprehensive, he rang the bell.
From deep inside he heard the thunder of feet on the stairs and then a clatter as someone came to the door. Guessing it was one of the children, he took a surprised step back when he saw that it was Beverley. She was wearing a nightie with an anorak over the top, and had a pair of trainers on her feet, and three curlers in her hair.
Her mouth opened in shock as though she was unable to believe the person standing on the step really was him, then she threw herself into his arms and for the second time that morning Ron staggered back as he was nearly knocked off his feet.
‘Steady,’ he told her, regaining his balance.
Racked with sobs, Beverley clung to him, and he felt her trembling.
‘There, there,’ he crooned, rubbing her back, and feeling like a total heel. How could he have done this to her? After all the kindness she’d showed him, what had he done? He’d thrown it back in her face. He was just as much of a shit as Troy.
Beverley was saying something but Ron couldn’t quite work out what it was, and he held her away, so her face wasn’t buried in his chest and her voice not as muffled.
‘He’s gone, he’s gone,’ was all he could make out, and he felt even more of a bastard.
‘Beverley,’ he urged, trying to get through to her. ‘I’ve brought Pepe back.’
She turned red swollen eyes to his, and whispered, ‘Pepe?’
‘He’s here, look.’ Ron glanced behind him and Beverley’s gaze followed. Pepe was sitting obediently behind Ron’s left foot, his little face expectant, his pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. His tail was wagging, brushing rhythmically across the doorstep, and he was clearly very pleased with himself.
‘Oh, my baby!’ Beverley exclaimed, almost falling to her knees in her haste to get to the little animal.
Ron grabbed hold of her and helped lower her down, hoping to goodness that he’d be able to get her back up again.
She smothered the dog in kisses, cuddling him to her, until Pepe had enough of all the fuss and attention, and wriggled and squirmed to be set free. As soon as his mistress let go of him, he darted into the house and shot up the stairs. Immediately Ron could hear excited cries and shouts, and he guessed that the dog had been very sorely missed indeed.
It also explained Beverley’s interesting choice of attire. She must have noticed the note that he had slipped under her door before she’d got dressed, and when she’d realised that Pepe was missing too, she’d thrown her anorak over the top of her nightie and had shoved her feet into some trainers, preparing to go out to look for her pet.
Ron saw Kate coming down the stairs. ‘Who found him? Who brought him—?’ she was saying, then she spotted Ron and cried, ‘It’s Ron! Are we glad to see you! Did Pepe follow you?’
‘Yeah.’ Ron felt unaccountably shy, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Normally quite reticent anyway, embarrassment and guilt made him mute.
‘How far did you get?’ she asked.
Ron shrugged. ‘Ogmore Castle.’ Gently he helped Beverley to her feet, and she used him as a climbing frame until she was upright again.
