THIRTY-FIVE

The first dog I saw was a chocolate-box spaniel with a glossy coat, long silky ears and sad, adoring eyes. Its owner wore a dress in sprigged cotton and dark glasses pushed back on top of her head.

‘I’m so sorry to trouble you,’ I said, my mobile already held out with the picture of Skye on its screen. ‘I’m wondering if you knew Skye Nolan. She used to walk dogs in this park.’

‘I don’t think I’ve seen her. Sorry. Has she gone missing?’

As if Skye was a dog herself.

Next, a scruffy and cheerful-looking terrier that scampered around me as I spoke to a man with a big beard.

‘Never, I’m afraid. But I’m not usually the one to take Noodle out for his walk.’

Two golden retrievers, one young and the other old and stout. They were accompanied by a woman in running clothes who stopped when I accosted her and unplugged herself from her earphones before replying.

‘Maybe. Maybe I’ve seen her. But I don’t know. And I’ve never talked to her. Sorry.’

And off she ran, the dogs loping behind her, their pink tongues hanging out.

A dachshund in a coat, so overweight I could barely make out its legs. The teenage boy cajoling it along the path looked embarrassed to be seen with it.

‘I’m on half-term. My gran asked me to walk it. It just waddles a few yards then sits down. Look at it!’

‘So you haven’t seen this woman?’

‘No.’

A moderate-sized cross-breed with enquiring eyes and a coarse coat. A poodle. A Vizsla (I only knew that because its owner told me). Two Staffies. A chocolate-brown puppy that ran round in circles.

A mangy dog that looked like a fox. An enormous dog that was the size of a pony and had ropes of saliva hanging from its jaws. A tiny dog the size of a mole that lifted a leg against a tree and stared reproachfully at me as I spoke to its owner. Three dogs on leads held by one teenage girl who was battling bravely to keep them disentangled. No one had met Skye.

Then came a dog with a golden-brown coat and a white bib and a look of eager puzzlement.

‘She’s a Duck Toller,’ said the woman.

‘I’ve never heard of that.’

‘Not many people have. She’s very clever. Aren’t you, Primrose?’

‘I’m sure she is.’

‘I think she understands half of what I say and most of what I mean.’

‘That’s nice. I was wondering if you’d ever come across this person.’

I held out my phone. The woman peered at the screen then straightened up.

‘Skye! Of course. She loved Primrose.’

‘So you knew her?’

‘Well, I didn’t know know her, if you see what I mean. But she was often in the park and I’m here twice a day.’

‘With her dogs?’

‘The dogs she walked, yes.’ The woman sniffed disapprovingly. ‘Sometimes she had four or five of them. I mean, how can you properly look after five dogs all at once?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You can’t. Mind you, she did always clear up after them, which is more than you can say for some dog walkers. I don’t know why people have dogs if they need to hire a walker.’

‘Did you talk to her?’

‘I certainly did. We had nice chats over the last few months.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Dogs,’ said the woman. ‘What else?’

‘Do you know whose dogs she walked?’

‘What is this? Is something the matter?’

‘Actually, Skye died,’ I said.

The woman looked down at her dog, as if for consolation, and Primrose looked back up at her. I’d never noticed before that dogs have eyebrows.

‘Now I think of it, I haven’t seen her. Was she ill? She didn’t look ill, though she did smoke an awful lot. I used to tell her.’

‘She fell from a building.’

‘That’s horrible! Dear oh dear. What were you asking? Yes… I don’t know whose dogs she walked. It wasn’t the same dogs all the time and there were weeks when I didn’t see her. Why? Are you her friend?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry. Who’d have thought it? She didn’t have much luck, did she?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘With her men friends. When she wasn’t talking about dogs she was talking about men. She said she was a fool when it came to men.’

‘Did she mention any by name?’

‘It was just in passing. I think she was the same with loads of other people in the park. She would just come up and start chatting, like you’d known each other for ever.’

‘Was she always alone?’

‘She was with a man once.’

‘Did you see him?’

‘Only from behind.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘I really don’t remember.’

‘Tall or short or fat or thin?’

‘Just a man, seen from behind,’ said the woman.

‘When?’

‘When? Maybe a few weeks ago. I don’t know.’

‘Did they seem close?’

‘I really couldn’t say. I was walking Primrose and she was there with all these other dogs and a man. Excuse me, but why are you asking all these questions?’

‘She was a friend,’ I said.

I looked down at my mobile. Skye looked back, smiling. Smiling at me, her eyebrows slightly raised.

Dogs, I thought. All these dogs.

And then I thought of something else and the air went out of me.