Baby Face

‘Can you take Baby for a walk?’ Beth pleaded as she mopped up in the car. She was into pet therapy, but five minutes with Baby and you’d be ready to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

Still, up here where the birdies sang in the trees things might be a bit less frenetic. So up verdant Chestnut Street, round the corner, and wow! A large gothic residence with more than a touch of Psycho about it stared back through empty windows from behind dark trees.

Stand very still and listen for the ghostly chime of the clock at the foot of the stairs, the creak of a floorboard up in the attic where the rocking horse tipped gently to and fro at the touch of an unseen hand.

Someone else had gone very quiet, crouched by the side of the road. Baby looked hopefully up at me, a superannuated, incontinent, off-white poodle in need of a bit of love.

‘Come on, for God’s sake.’ I tugged at his lead before anybody else saw what we’d just done.