Unfortunately for Eleanor, the journey went by too quickly and they arrived with the stray dog at The Forge before she had a chance to say anything to Tom about her job.
‘Look, you don’t have to come in,’ she said quickly. ‘I mean, we can handle the dog from here.’
More than anything, she was desperate for him not to see what kind of house she lived in.
But Tom was already shaking his head. ‘No, that’s fine,’ he told her. ‘I feel a kind of responsibility, seeing as he dashed under my car.’
He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He picked up the dog and struggled to carry it down the path. She noticed that he was still hobbling despite the fact that he didn’t have his crutches with him.
As they reached the front door, Eleanor tried once more to put him off. ‘It’s a bit of a mess in there,’ she warned him.
That was an understatement, she thought, as she pushed against the front door and Tom followed.
A couple of cats watched warily as they went inside, which caused the dog in Tom’s arms to shake even more.
‘Mum!’ she called out. ‘I’ve got another stray for you.’
‘In here!’ came the shout from the kitchen.
As they went into the back of the house, Eleanor’s heart sank. The kitchen was a total muddle. Washing-up was piled in the sink. There was animal feed and water bowls everywhere. Papers and books scattered all around the place. And, to top it all, there was a donkey peering in through the window from the overgrown garden outside.
What must he think of me? thought Eleanor in despair. Of us?
She glanced at Tom, who, to her surprise, appeared to be taking the world’s messiest house in his stride. At least he had the decent manners not to look down his nose at the place. But he was probably used to a fancy penthouse and would be horrified by it all, she thought. To be honest, she was pretty horrified most days.
Her mum smiled at Tom as he was introduced, completely oblivious that he was one of the most famous singers in the world. She was more focussed on the dog as she placed it on the kitchen table to check it over.
Another goal for food hygiene, thought Eleanor in despair, as she looked at the dog’s muddy paws.
But her mum was in her animal zone. ‘Hello,’ she said, stroking his fur gently. ‘So, who do you belong to?’
The dog licked her hand in tentative response.
‘There was no collar,’ said Eleanor.
Her mum nodded. ‘Right. Let’s give you a once-over and see what we find,’ she said, beginning to feel the dog over for any injuries.
‘What kind of dog is it, do you think?’ asked Tom.
‘It’s an English setter,’ said her mum. ‘And in a pretty bad way, I’m afraid. Matted fur. Underfed. I can feel his ribs. Poor thing.’
Watching her mother’s soft face and adoring gaze as she looked on the poor dog, Eleanor braced herself for yet another addition to the home. She glanced over at Tom, but thankfully he appeared to be relaxed about the state of the place.
*
In fact, Tom was actually pretty shocked at how Eleanor’s mother lived.
He’d imagined that she’d been brought up in some kind of footballer’s wives mansion or something. What with her fancy clothes and slightly snooty air. But this rundown cottage filled with all sorts of animals was a surprise. A massive understatement of a surprise.
Appearances could most definitely be deceiving, he reminded himself.
Eleanor had disappeared to change out of her muddy trousers. When she came back downstairs, he noticed that she had fixed the mascara that had run underneath one eye and that her hair was smoothed back into a ponytail. He wondered why she felt the need to look so immaculate all the time.
She was in stark contrast to her mother whose clothes had seen better days. She seemed slightly scatty but was kind and gentle as she felt around the dog’s body. ‘I can’t feel any breaks or ticks,’ she said. ‘You should take him to see Ben to find out if he’s got a microchip.’ She looked up and smiled at Tom and he realised she didn’t have a clue who he was. He was thankful for the anonymity, which was a rarity these days.
‘The vet’s only down the road,’ said Eleanor, looking at Tom. ‘I can deal with it, if you need to be somewhere. We can always call a taxi.’
‘No worries. I have the car,’ he told her. ‘I can take you.’
He found himself reluctant to leave this scene quite yet.
‘That’s good,’ said her mum, nodding. ‘We still need that pet food from the farm shop, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Her mum opted to stay behind so once more it was Eleanor and the dog sat in the back seat. She quickly purchased some pet food at the farm shop before they headed onto the vet’s.
As he drove, he asked, ‘So your mum takes in strays?’
‘Yes.’ He heard the strain in her voice. There was a short silence before she added, ‘Ever since my dad left us.’
She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t push. It wasn’t any of his business, but still, he was surprised she had briefly opened up to him.
Going into the vet’s surgery, he braced himself for the inevitable response to his superstardom. But thankfully Ben the vet was in his late fifties and didn’t recognise Tom either.
But he obviously knew Eleanor’s mother very well.
‘How’s her foot?’ asked Ben, checking the dog over.
‘The plaster’s driving her crazy,’ said Eleanor.
Ben nodded. ‘I’ll take her to the pub on Sunday. That should cheer her up.’
Eleanor smiled. ‘Thanks. She always enjoys going out with you.’
There was an ease to their conversation which made Tom presume that Ben was an old friend of the family.
Ben finished his check-up. ‘No microchip unfortunately,’ he confirmed. ‘But the dog appears healthy, although underweight. His fur’s severely matted as well. Do you think your mother’s up to giving him a bath?’
‘I can do it,’ said Eleanor, with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘We’ll just have to keep it with us until the owner comes along to claim him.’
Ben smiled. ‘Of course. Where else would a stray animal go in Cranley?’
Only Tom caught her soft sigh. So the animal thing was definitely a problem.
Once they were back in the reception, Eleanor asked if Tom wouldn’t mind holding the dog. ‘I’d better pick him up a collar from the pet shop next door.’
‘You sound like you’ve done this before,’ said Tom.
She smiled, but it was without humour. ‘Oh yes,’ she replied. ‘Just a few times.’
Once the dog had been fitted with a brand new green collar, they headed back to her mum’s house. As Tom parked the car outside, Eleanor paused.
‘Look, I’m sorry about shouting at you last night,’ she said, scratching at her neck which he had noticed she did frequently. ‘I think I might have overreacted a bit.’
He turned in his seat to look at her. ‘I really was intending to come along and honour my commitment to you,’ he said. ‘I’m not in the habit of breaking my promises. I went into the recording studio and drifted off to sleep. The painkillers are too heavy for me. I didn’t wake up until you came in. I should have set the alarm or something.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded before clearing her throat. ‘Look, I think I may have told you last night about losing my job at the magazine.’
A blush was spreading across her creamy white cheeks.
He nodded. ‘In between shouting at me, you mean.’
‘Yes. Well, quite.’ She shuffled in her seat, obviously uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention anything about it to my mum. Or Annie. Or anyone else, come to think of it. I haven’t got round to telling anyone yet.’
He was surprised that she would keep such a thing secret but merely replied, ‘No problem.’
She seemed taken aback that he would be so amenable. But also grateful. ‘Thanks,’ she said, before getting out of the car.
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.’
Eleanor helped carry all the extra doggy paraphernalia out to the car. ‘Will you be okay with him?’ she asked.
Tom nodded. ‘It’ll be fine, I’m sure. How hard can it be, compared to, say, a donkey?’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘Yeah. Well, it’s good of you to take care of the dog. As you can see, the Ark is pretty full at the minute.’
She was shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot.
‘I think it’s great that your mum loves animals so much,’ he told her.
She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not so great if you have to take care of them every day.’
He looked down at her. ‘Trust me, there’s not too many people that would make such an effort.’
She glanced at the dog on the back seat. ‘Right back at you.’
He smiled. ‘So, is this a temporary truce whilst we take care of Dylan?’
‘We?’ Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
‘If you think I’m bathing him all by myself, you’ve got another thing coming,’ he told her, as he sat behind the wheel.
Her laughter surprised them both and made her face seem far more alive and animated. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It’s a deal. I’ll see you in the morning up at the hall.’
As he drove off, he glanced in his rear-view mirror and saw that Eleanor was still smiling as she turned away to head indoors.
It was the first time he had seen her smile properly and be natural, he realised. And he liked it.