Chapter One

Eleven Years Later

‘Jack! Jack! Come back, Jack!’ Lisa thudded through the undergrowth, trying not to stumble on the tree roots amongst the ferns and moss of the damp forest floor. Walking, she had felt cool under the canopy of the trees, now that she was running there seemed to be a lack of air; she couldn’t fill her lungs fast enough and she could taste the pungent, earthy smell that hung in the atmosphere. I am so not cut out for this! Her chest felt tight and her shins burnt.

Her life in London, sitting in an office, had not prepared her for this. She had only been pet sitting for two months and this was her second runaway! How could working with dogs have turned out to be so very different to writing about them? Blazing a trail through Houghton Forest – well, attempting to run through it anyway – she missed the comfort of her desk and the security of her old job. Writing for Paws about Town magazine didn’t seem so bad now, did it? Lisa thought about her desk tucked in the corner of the office, the unpredictable air conditioning that blew hot and cold on her and her colleagues who did the same as deadlines drew near. Absence really was making her heart grow fonder. She looked at the blue poo bag in her hand, swinging back and forth as she ran; this was all so desperately unglamorous in comparison.

‘Jack! Jack!’ The name was becoming more of a pant than a shout as she tried to co-ordinate the difficult act of breathing with bellowing. Perhaps she should conserve her energy; she hadn’t actually seen Jack for a while. He could even be out of earshot. Leaning against a lichen-covered tree, she paused in an attempt to catch her breath. Trying to listen over the sound of her own breathing, Lisa hoped to hear Jack making a kerfuffle somewhere. But there was not a single, giveaway sound.

An image of Winnie’s face slipped into Lisa’s mind and she knew returning without Jack was not an option. That dog meant everything to that dear, sweet, old lady. Winnie had been Lisa’s first client when she started her business, the first person to put their faith in her. The weight of that faith pressed firmly on Lisa’s shoulders now. She had to think what to do.

Maybe he had headed back to the van without her. Lisa imagined Jack wagging his happy tail, waiting for her to return, looking at her as if she had been the one who had gone missing all along. And if he wasn’t there, though she didn’t want to think too much about that, at least heading back to the van meant she could catch her breath. Then she could come up with a plan and beg the people in the tea kiosk to ask everybody they served if they had seen a cross-eyed, black Labrador with a grey beard and the deceptive speed of a Whippet. Maybe they would even announce it on their tannoy – well, not the part about the cross eyes and the speed, but the fact Jack was missing. Then everybody would know to look out for him.

That seeming the best, perhaps even her only, option, Lisa pulled the laces on her hiking boots a little tighter in readiness to set off again and winced at the blisters she could feel forming. Like her, the boots weren’t made for running.

Glancing at the trees surrounding her, Lisa began to panic. In her desperation to follow Jack she had left the path and was unsure which direction to head off in. It all looked so similar now. As her eyes flicked from tree to tree, searching for something familiar, the branches seemed to move in a little closer; suddenly, the notion she was lost and alone sent a cold shiver down her sweaty spine. Not wanting to loiter on the spot any longer, Lisa took a punt on the direction and set off again. Loneliness was something she was used to from her life in London, but actually being alone, occupying a space entirely by herself, that hardly ever happened. Thudding along again, her pace was now more of a slow jog, while her arms and face did all the actions of a speed runner.

Finally glimpsing a path, she burst through the line of trees, stumbling onto the ground before a pair of middle-aged walkers, complete with all the gear. They stopped abruptly at her sudden appearance.

Attempting to catch her breath, Lisa stood and panted, ‘Ha- ha- have …’ Oh God! She sounded crazy. Swallowing in an attempt to encourage saliva into her mouth, she noticed their stunned faces. As she tried to compose herself so she could actually speak, it occurred to her that she must look like some wild woman of the forest. She had rosy cheeks, mad hair, sweat beading across her forehead, wide eyes from the exertion, slashed legs from the brambles, and clothes covered in lichen and fuzzy burs that clung like Velcro. Lisa brushed herself off and adjusted her hair in an attempt to look saner than she felt. ‘Have … Have you seen a black Labrador … anywhere, please?’ she finally implored.

The woman looked at her, reading the words ‘Lisa Blake, the purrfect pet sitter!’ emblazoned on her T-shirt.

‘He slipped his collar!’ Lisa provided, registering the look of disdain in the woman’s eyes, as she waved her hand to reveal the dog-less collar and lead she still held there.

The woman gave a judgmental ‘Hmmm,’ before softening slightly. ‘Black Lab, you say?’

‘YES!’ Lisa burst with relief.

‘Grey beard? Wonky eyes?’

‘YES! YES! Oh, that’s him!’

‘Lovely dog.’

‘Yes! Where is he?’ Lisa felt ready to shake the information out of the woman if she didn’t answer soon.

The couple looked at their watches before the man added, ‘Must have been five or so minutes ago now.’

‘Moving on more for ten, I’d say.’

Lisa looked between the man and the woman in disbelief, trying hard to ignore her growing temptation to grab their walking poles and use them to extricate the information from them; she tucked her hands behind her back.

‘He’s just over there at the kiosk.’

‘What? Where? Where’s the kiosk from here?’ Lisa realised she was now jogging on the spot ready to go as soon as she knew where.

‘Just round that bend,’ they finally offered, pointing in unison along the path they had just walked along.

‘Thank you! Thank you!’ The burn in her legs having dissipated with the thought of getting Jack back, Lisa gave both of the walkers an unexpected kiss on the cheek and sprinted in the direction they had pointed.

Finally, seeing the grassy picnic area and car park, Lisa fixed her eyes on the little tea kiosk. ‘Jack! Jack! Come back, Jack!’ Tears stung at her eyes when she couldn’t see him. She really didn’t want to return to Winnie without Jack, as it would almost certainly finish her off to lose him. He had to still be there. As she cornered the wooden hut relief flooded through her. He was there! Wagging his tail and looking thoroughly cheeky, just as she imagined and hoped he would be! But he wasn’t looking out expectantly for her; in fact, he barely noticed her approaching. He was too busy being fed a bacon butty by one of the bikers who used the picnic area and tea kiosk as a regular stop off.

Suddenly hit by the emotion of finding Jack, Lisa’s voice cracked and sounded weak, ‘Jack, Jack.’

As she reached out for the dog the leather-clad man stood up. ‘All right, Rose, calm yourself.’

Confused Lisa met his gaze. ‘What?’

‘You were calling Jack so desperately there I thought you must be Rose.’

Lisa glared. She didn’t know what he was referring to.

‘Jack, Rose … Titanic … the film. You must have seen it.’

Finally the penny dropped. Cheeky sod. This was no time to make jokes. Though Lisa conceded her lungs felt so constricted from the run she might as well have been drowning on the bloody Titanic.

‘You’ve got my dog.’ She blurted the words more curtly than she intended.

The man raised his eyebrows and placed a protective hand on Jack. ‘Funny that, he seems to want to be with me and he has no collar. Are you sure he’s yours?’

Lisa looked at the smirk tugging at his lips and his way-too-cheeky-for-the-situation eyes. She was in no mood for games, she had left her patience somewhere back in the forest. ‘Look, this is his collar. He’s called Jack. Now, please, can I just have him?’

Jack wiggled back between the man’s legs. Judas! Lisa looked at his little cross-eyed face, the picture of innocence, and let out an exasperated squeal.

‘Here …’ The man’s expression softened as he smiled, and gestured to take the collar and lead. Lisa reluctantly handed it over, watching as he slipped the collar round Jack’s neck and pulled it a little tighter to ensure it stayed in place. As the man checked the clip on the lead he paused to read Jack’s identity tag before unleashing a full-on smile at Lisa and standing up. ‘Then you must be Winifred Adams. Nice to meet you, Winifred.’

Lisa looked at his outstretched hand. Oh for goodness’ sake! ‘No … I’m—’

With a puzzled expression he withdrew his hand. ‘But you said—’

‘I’m … I’m Jack’s pet sitter,’ Lisa muttered, embarrassed at how unprofessional she appeared.

‘His what?’ The man shot back, not bothering to stifle his giggle.

‘Pet sitter, dog walker, you know.’ Lisa pointed at the words across her T-shirt and blushed even more at the fact she was pointing at her still heaving chest. Moving her hand she added, ‘I’m Lisa Blake.’

‘“The purrfect pet sitter” indeed,’ he said with a laugh as he passed over Jack’s lead.

Lisa wanted the ground to open up and swallow her into oblivion. ‘Honestly, I don’t normally lose my clients’ pets. I really am generally very vigilant,’ she assured, blinking away an image of the back end of Rusty the snappy little Jack Russell disappearing down the beach the previous week. Thank goodness he didn’t want to cross that patch of seaweed! Without that she knew she never would have caught him.

‘I’m sure you are,’ the man offered, his voice a little too teasing. ‘I bet plenty of dogs slip their collars every day!’

‘Not on my watch,’ Lisa shot back and cringed regretting her hasty response on at least four counts that instantly sprung to mind:

1) All evidence pointed to the contrary.

2) His words had actually absolved her of all blame in the situation – now it seemed she protested too much.

3) It just wasn’t true.

4) And, perhaps the point she regretted most, she had pointed to her eyes, then at him and winked for added emphasis as she spoke.

‘I’m sure.’ He chuckled, apparently finding her predicament as the worst pet sitter in the south amusing. Tapping his nose in mock similarity to her gesture, he added, ‘This had better be our little secret then, hadn’t it?’

Lisa giggled despite her best efforts not to.

No longer the centre of attention, Jack barked, reminding them of his presence. Lisa jumped, realising any moment now might be a good time to look like a pet sitter who actually gave her charges her full attention. She bent down offering Jack lots of fuss, tickling him around his ears and under his soft, wobbly jowls. Only then did she notice she was still holding the blue poo bag, now a mushy mess from her run. And worse, she was actually flapping it around in Jack’s face. Fail! Quickly tucking the bag behind her back, her cheeks reddened and she suddenly felt the need to be gone; away from the awkward situation, away from the leather-clad dog-napper and away from further scrutiny. ‘OK … so, thank you.’ Lisa turned to leave, dragging a reluctant Jack with her.

‘But wait, I … don’t go … I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m D—’

But it was no use, Lisa was striding back to her van, reminding herself that returning Jack to Winnie, maybe even on time if she drove quickly enough, was her only priority.

Realising she had no intention of turning back, the leather-clad man shouted, ‘It was a pleasure … see you around, Rose!’

Lisa groaned and picked up her pace.