Haley Hill

Love Is...


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6

      ‘Congratulations,’ Matthew said, after I’d called him the following morning to share my news. ‘You’ve just done what every other infertile couple does.’ He paused to laugh. ‘Seriously, the clinics should affiliate with an animal rescue centre. “Sorry, your embryos were useless but we have an adorable whippet called Wilbur who needs a home. He’s very loving, great with kids. Not that that matters.”’

      I ignored him and continued. ‘And Nick wants us to move to Manhattan.’

      ‘Whoa, what’s going on? First a dog and now emigration? Does he have a green card?’

      ‘Nick?’ I asked.

      ‘No, Rupert,’ he replied. ‘Those Yanks are ruthless with their border control.’

      ‘He’s not a Border, he’s a Sporting Lucas.’

      He laughed some more. ‘You’re not allowed to go. Who else will entertain me with their ridiculous life?’

      ‘I’m not going,’ I said.

      There was a pause on the end of the line. Initially, I thought this was because Matthew was taking time to consider the implications on my future happiness, however, the loud slurping noise revealed that, instead, he was just taking a moment to sip his coffee.

      I sighed. ‘Does anyone actually care?’ Out of nowhere, Rupert jumped on my lap and gazed up at me.

      Matthew sniggered down the line. ‘Of course I care,’ he said. ‘I just care more after coffee.’

      ‘So I was saying…’

      ‘Yes, you’re off to Yank land.’

      ‘No, I’m not. I’m not going.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘I hate America.’

      ‘You haven’t even been.’

      I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course I have. The agency has an office in New York.’

      He laughed. ‘Yes, which you’ve visited once in three years, for, oh, what was it, all of six hours?’

      ‘I’ve been twice actually. And I went to Disney World when I was twelve.’

      ‘Aha,’ Matthew said, in the manner of a psychotherapist who had just pinpointed the cause of a patient’s neurosis. ‘Florida in the eighties doesn’t count. They were going through a difficult time: all visors and fanny packs.’

      I chuckled. ‘And there’s no way I could join a nation who voted for a president who said: “most of our imports are foreign”.’

      Matthew sighed. ‘They didn’t vote him in. He voted himself in. And, besides, they have a new president now, only since 2008.’

      ‘Yeah, one who sided with Argentina over the Falklands.’

      ‘Ellie, you can’t discount an entire nation based on political knowledge gleaned from a ten-year-old Michael Moore documentary and Perez Hilton’s blog.’

      ‘I can.’

      He laughed. ‘So when you leave, who’s going to look after your clients?’

      ‘I’ve told you I’m not going. Why isn’t anyone taking me seriously?’

      ‘I suppose you could work from New York too. At least then you’d be rid of old twatty-pants Dominic.’

      ‘Are you listening to me?’

      ‘And the Sporting Lucas. I suppose you can take him with you?’

      ‘Matthew!’

      He let out a deep sigh. ‘Ellie, beautiful, gorgeous Ellie, platonic love of my life.’ He sighed again. ‘When you repeatedly say you’re not doing something, usually it means you are.’

      I paced around the hallway, ready to shout down the phone at Matthew that no matter what anyone said, I had no intention of moving to America, ever, when I noticed Victoria peering through the front window.

      I attempted to ‘sign’ to her that I was on the phone, an act that I immediately realised could be no more explanatory than my actually holding a real phone to my ear.

      She ignored me and started thudding on the door, by which point, Matthew had begun humming Frank Sinatra.

      ‘Bm ber der der der, start spreading the news,’ he sang, ‘Ellie’s leaving today. She wants to be a part of it…’

      I rolled my eyes and hung up the phone.

      Victoria bustled in, the moment I opened the door. Her arms were laden with Rupert-related paraphernalia.

      ‘Morning,’ she said. ‘I forgot a few things.’ She placed the items down onto a large pile in front of me, then smoothed down her ponytail. ‘There’s the mattress for Rupert’s bed.’ She pointed at a thick circular cushion. ‘It’s made from coconut fibres so it’s more breathable. Here’s the pamphlet,’ she said, reaching into her pocket and handing it to me. ‘It’s been clinically proven to reduce the incidence of Sudden Puppy Death Syndrome.’

      I glanced at it and scratched my head.

      She continued, plucking something else from the pile. ‘This is his heartbeat cushion Olga found at Pets Are Our World. Apparently it settles him…’ she pointed at something else ‘… along with his pheromone spray and plug-in. There’s his brush, made from natural fibres…’ she continued pointing ‘… his puppy shampoo—don’t over-wash him, he’s sensitive—toothbrush, toothpaste.’ She turned to me. ‘Dental hygiene is paramount to prevent future decay.’ She turned back to the pile. ‘There’s one week’s food. He’s on Paula’s Kitchen Puppy meals. They’re grain-free, from ethically sourced meat, with no fillers, and also with added bergamot and dandelion for his liver and kidney. And there are some special grain-free treats in this bag.’ Rupert jumped up, sniffing the packet and wagging his tail. She handed him one. Then reached in her other pocket and continued. ‘I’ve printed off a list of human foods he must not have, under any circumstance, and also a list of garden plants that are poisonous to dogs. It’s best to remove them from your garden just in case.’ She glanced through the kitchen to the back door. ‘Chances are you’ve got some of everything in that overgrown mass back there.’ Then she handed me a bundle of papers. ‘Here’s his pedigree certificate and passport application forms. He can’t go abroad until he’s had his rabies vaccine. His vet’s number is on the back…’ she pointed out where ‘…just below the grooming salon. Also he has a few sessions with his nutritionalist plus a month’s worth of canine psychology sessions to help him adjust to his new home.’ She looked down at Rupert, then back at me. ‘And just in case,’ she added, her expression cooling, ‘here’s the number of a dog therapist in New York.’ She looked me in the eye. ‘If you were to go, it would be immensely traumatic for him and he would need extensive emotional support to adapt to such a change.’

      ‘But I’m not going,’ I said.

      She took a deep breath and looked at me. ‘You’ll take care of him, won’t you, Ellie?’

      I nodded, bending down to pick him up. Victoria leaned in to stroke him.

      Rupert wriggled, then jumped up into her arms.

      Either he’d already been Stockholmed, or, I began to wonder, perhaps Victoria had been kinder to him than she’d let on.

      ‘So,’ she said, peeling him off her and placing him on the floor. ‘Everything all right with you and Nick?’

      I nodded, distracted by Rupert arching his back on my carpet.

      Victoria squinted her eyes. ‘Right, OK,’ she said, before giving Rupert one final pat on the head. She shut the door quickly before he was able to follow her out.

      Moments later, I caught sight of her running back up the