Poor Larry looked exhausted. She’d whelped four pups already and there were another four to go. Devon kept his distance. He wouldn’t interfere unless it was necessary. Larry knew what she was doing and had managed beautifully with each of the pups, licking away the membrane sack and nipping through the umbilical cords like a pro. What a girl.
For once Marina had managed to curb her TV instincts and not touch any of the puppies yet, leaving nature to take its infinitely wonderful course.
‘Keep the camera focused on the puppies. Don’t let the audience see the dog eating the goo.’ Rick’s voice sounded as if he were filming an average day in the street. Devon wanted to punch him.
‘The goo is the placenta and is perfectly natural for the mother to eat it. It’s a source of protein and nutrients to help her rebuild her strength.’
‘Devon, darling, it is a little bit revolting. Viewers don’t want to see or know about that.’
‘They might not, but you’re giving a false impression. It’s also important to flag up that there should be a placenta for each pup. A retained placenta can make a dog very ill indeed.’
Devon worried that this nice sanitised puppy birth might encourage hundreds of viewers to start breeding their dogs, thinking this was all so easy.
He kept a careful watch on Larry nursing her four puppies. So far, so good, but occasionally there might be problems later as the bitch tired or if she rolled on a puppy and inadvertently squashed one. Her vitals seemed fine, she was alert and responsive and the puppies were all a good size. At the moment they looked more like little brown voles than Lab puppies. All their features had yet to sharpen, the heads and short stubby legs were disproportionately large and the barely-there ears just sprouting. Tucked in together next to Larry’s stomach, hungrily sucking away, they made a cute, cuddly sight, but there was a way to go yet.
‘Isn’t it wonderful,’ said Marina, slipping a hand through his arm, her recently touched-up lipstick glistening in the studio lights.
It was wonderful. Nature doing what nature did best. But just not on live television or internet or whatever it was. A litter of strong, healthy pups born with no complications . . . so far.
‘Fabulous television. Twitter and Facebook are going mad. The ratings will go through the roof. And there’ll be weekly updates on the puppies growing. I’m so glad you came. I knew I could rely on you to help.’
He looked at her as if she’d lost her marbles. ‘I came for Larry. To make sure she’s OK. To be on hand if anything went wrong.’
‘Yes, and that’s help, isn’t it?’ She smiled with a coy lift of one eyebrow that once he’d found sexy and was now merely irritating. ‘You always help me.’ In fact, the uptilt of her lips was more a smirk. She assumed that he would help. Assumed he would step in if she needed him to.
That smug, knowing look tore something. He thought of all the times she’d run things by him and he’d had to correct her veterinary knowledge. They should have been a team, equal partners, but she’d taken more and he’d been happy to give it. When had she ever helped him? Even now, having to divide their lives, their house, her career came first. She came first.
He looked around at the busy room. The mic in her hand, the thing in her ear relaying Rick’s direction, the heat of the lights and the cameramen, cables snaking over the floor. What had once been the consulting room of their veterinary practice was now a fully kitted-out professional studio. One that her company benefited from. Ella was right. He was an idiot. A complete idiot. Things had been going so well that evening and he’d completely ballsed it up and he didn’t even know why. Ella had been trying to help and he tossed it straight back at her. His pride had been damaged when she’d been cool with him after Marina had come down. Now he realised he’d also been irritated by her assuming that he’d swallow all Marina’s twaddle about him going to work on her new TV programme. So he’d been deliberately cool back to her which was a pretty stupid thing to do considering for the last few weeks he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her or those soft kisses that had been added into the memory mix, the way that they whipped up his pulse and messed with his heart. Somehow, as he’d watched Ella grow and blossom, she’d slunk under his defences. Seeing her laughing uproariously and unselfconsciously at herself at the Village Fayre, in front of everyone, had hit him with a punch of awareness. At that very moment, with her cheeks suffused with pink, her eyes dancing and her graceful artistic hands batting the air with amused disbelief at her stupidity, she’d been picture perfect. And now it hit him, a sucker punch of sudden realisation. He’d fallen in love with Ella.
‘Devon. Devon, are you listening to me? I asked you what sort of nutrients there are in the placenta.’ Marina tutted. ‘And now I haven’t got time.’ With an irritated toss of her hair she strode off.
Devon stared, disbelieving, after her.
Marina had flitted off and was now doing a piece to camera. ‘And after each puppy is born, the placenta comes out. Now,’ she gave the camera a ‘this is the important science bit’ nod, ‘it’s not very nice but it’s perfectly natural for the mother to eat it. It’s a source of protein and nutrients which will help her rebuild her strength.’
Devon shook his head and pulled back out of the circle of lights. Yup, he was an A1 idiot.
At the edge of the studio, two executive-looking types in single-breasted suits and very pointy shoes with matching pointy goatee beards stood in front of a bank of three laptops.
‘Going well, is it?’ Devon asked, slightly bemused by them watching the video of Larry and Marina when the real event was taking place right in front of them.
‘You wouldn’t believe it. The hits are going through the roof. We’ve reached over 500,000 viewers.’
‘And you are?’
‘Account director for RV Pet Foods. We’ve sponsored the banner headline on the website today.’
‘Sponsored?’
‘Yeah, best sponsorship deal we’ve ever done. And a better position on the page than the Remove Me flea powder guys. They just got the sidebar. Cheaper than TV and as tightly targeted an audience as you could wish to find. No wastage.’
‘Wastage?’ Were they even speaking English?
‘When you advertise on TV, there will be a lot of people watching who aren’t pet owners. If you advertise around a TV programme, like Making Pets Well With Marina, then the ratio of pet owners to non pet owners goes up dramatically. On this site, that ratio is even better. So, less waste.’
‘So how much would this sponsorship cost?’
‘You don’t work for Remove Me?’
‘No, I’m the consultant vet for Marina.’ Unpaid consultant, who fed her the lines. He twisted his lips. ‘I don’t get involved in the business side of things, just the business end.’
The two men laughed politely.
‘Pretty messy business, isn’t it?’ The taller man shuddered. ‘Although the camera guys are doing a great job of missing the really ugly bits out. That’s what we’re paying for.’
‘You must be paying a lot to keep it clean,’ said Devon, hiding his disgust. Just how much was this media circus making?
Tall goatee wearer looked around before whispering in Devon’s ear.
Devon almost bit his tongue. That was no small chunk of change.
Narrowing his eyes, he looked at Larry busy licking at the latest arrival. It made the £4,000 Marina could make by selling the puppies look rather insignificant. And here he’d been sweating his balls off to try and raise the cash to buy himself out.
Yup, Ella had definitely been right. He’d been too busy protecting his pride to see her help for what it was. A genuine offer. Marina had always had an ulterior motive, another agenda.
He owed Ella an apology. More than an apology. God, he hoped after being such an idiot, she would still talk to him. Forgive him. He’d really messed up there.
‘What, now?’ Marina looked over towards the camera.
‘There won’t be another puppy for a while and this won’t take long.’
‘There won’t?’ She looked back at the dog.
Devon had no bloody idea – pups came when they were ready – but he wasn’t about to tell Marina that. ‘No,’ he said.
He drew her out of the studio, up the stairs, through the hallway and into the kitchen. For a second, a brief pang hit him. He’d eaten a lot of solitary meals in this kitchen. Sitting at the walnut breakfast bar, staring at his own reflection in the glossy black units that filled the opposite wall. Wiping away fingerprints from the built-in doors of the fridge where they left marks. It had always been a hopelessly impractical kitchen, even for their domestically challenged lifestyle.
‘What’s this about, Devon?’ she asked with a kittenish purr. ‘Have you made your decision?’
‘Yes.’
‘Devon!’ She clapped her hands and leant towards him. ‘That’s fabulous news. You’re coming back?’
He weighed up his words, studying her. Sophisticated and polished, with her perfect curves, tiny waist, long legs in high heels and sultry come-to-bed eyes and all he could think of was a slight, slender blonde who had a big enough heart to try and rescue him.
‘No, but I have found a solution to our financial problems.’
Marina’s lip quivered rather beautifully.
‘Not coming back?’
‘No.’
‘B-but.’ She sniffed rather elegantly and then stiffened like a cat facing off in a fight. ‘If that’s what you’ve decided. You’re making a big mistake. And where are you going to find the money? We can’t keep dragging it out.’
‘We don’t need to. It’s quite simple.’
‘It’s a shame you didn’t realise that before.’
Devon looked at her face, which had sharpened with spite.
‘We agreed to split everything down the middle.’
‘Yes, but sadly that’s the negative equity so I have to absorb mine and you have to pay yours to me.’
‘That seems fair.’
Marina put a hand on his arm. ‘Of course it’s fair.’ She patted his arm, flirtatious charm back in place.
‘Unfortunately we can’t split Larry down the middle.’
‘No, and we agreed she should stay in her home.’
‘We did. So, I was thinking. You’ll be selling the puppies.’
‘Yes, Devon, I can’t work and look after eight puppies. However,’ she gave a saccharine sweet smile, ‘we had decided that we would sell them to the highest bidders and give all the money to charity. It would be great PR.’
‘“We”?’
‘The production team.’
‘Ah, but if we split everything down the middle, four of those puppies would be mine.’
Marina’s face sharpened. ‘There are costs involved. Do you want to halve those too?’
‘Half of everything, that’s fair. Yes.’
She looked slightly mollified. ‘But it would look odd if only four of the puppies were sold for charity.’
‘True. OK. Sell them all for charity, although I would like to keep one.’
Her lips pursed. ‘We can talk about that later. Once they’re all born.’
He folded his arms and leaned back against the breakfast bar, starting to enjoy himself. ‘Today’s been quite a success.’
‘Amazing. Honestly. It’s exceeded all our expectations. Breakfast TV have already asked me to do a slot tomorrow morning.’ She sat down on one of the bar stools, arranging herself to best advantage. It was an artful pose he’d seen many a time, showing off her perfect legs and making her look up at him from under her lashes.
‘What sort of expectations did you have?’ Devon pretended to look puzzled. Thanks to Ella and his chat with the goatee boys, he had a much better insight into how some of this media world worked.
‘It all hinged on how many people would tune in. Social media. The Facebook page. The website almost crashed at one point but luckily we’d got contingency in place.’
‘A good day at the office.’
She grinned, her teeth white against her fuchsia pink lipstick. ‘You bet.’
‘What would half of today’s profits be?’ Devon crossed his feet at the ankle. ‘You must have done quite well. Half the cost of the sponsorship? Facebook advertising?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. That all belongs to the production company.’
‘But the house doesn’t. The studio doesn’t. Surely the production company has to pay for hire and use of the studio.’
Marina paled. ‘W-well. It’s not that simple. It’s more complicated than that.’
‘How so? The production company films here. As half owner of the studio, I should also receive half the hire charges.’
Marina stared at him, her jaw tense. ‘But I part-own the production company.’
‘Hmm, that does make it messy. I think you’d better line up your accountant to talk to my solicitor. But by my calculations . . . ’ He crossed his fingers. Ella had been very thorough. ‘In the last three years you’ve filmed eight ten-week series. That’s eighty shows plus the regular breakfast show slots and of course today’s events. I believe, at today’s market rate . . . ’ he dredged up Ella’s notes and quoted her figures for studio hire. ‘And it takes a few days to film a show, so that’s an awful lot of studio time owing.’
And he had an awful lot of apologising to do. He owed Ella big time. But seeing Larry today and remembering how devastated he had been when he had to leave her behind, he had an idea of how he might make things up to her.