The telephone rang as Becca Finchley finished making her son’s bed as best she could. She fumbled with the wheels of her chair and tried to push herself backwards, only to have one of them jammed by a stray sock.
‘Would you get that, please, Daniel?’ she shouted. ‘Daniel! Please answer the phone,’ she called again, but it rang and rang until it was interrupted by the tinkling of the front doorbell.
It must have been about the fourth time she’d missed the phone this week and no one was leaving messages. She made a mental note to check if she’d set the thing up properly. The woman gave a sharp shove, releasing the stuck wheel and manoeuvring her way out of the room. She pushed down the hallway to the front door and turned the lock.
‘Have I got you at a bad time, dear?’ the old woman asked. She was holding a large round tin in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other.
‘Oh, no, Mrs Bird, I was just making the beds,’ Becca replied.
‘What are you doing that for? Your son is old enough to help with the household chores,’ Mrs Bird tutted.
‘Please come in.’ Becca pushed back, trying to spin the chair around but the hallway was narrow and she found it a challenge, to say the least.
‘Let me help you.’ The old woman dumped the goods she was carrying into Becca’s lap and grabbed the handles. ‘Speaking of Daniel, where is he? I would have thought he could have answered the door for you.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Becca said, hoping he didn’t suddenly appear. She never liked having to explain herself to anyone, including their kindly old neighbour. They reached the kitchen and Becca was surprised to see that the washing up had been done.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Mrs Bird insisted. ‘And I’ve made you some biscuits. I know what it’s like living with boys.’
Becca Finchley thought Mrs Bird’s name rather suited her. A small woman with a nondescript face, she looked like one of those television mothers from an advertisement for washing powder – pleasant but not especially memorable. She had been particularly kind, though, since the accident. Funnily enough, they’d not had much to do with her beforehand. She’d wave as she drove her ancient white sedan past the house and the Finchleys presumed she lived somewhere at the end of the road, but they’d never been invited up and she never mentioned a family. The Finchleys had only moved to Winchesterfield a year and a half ago, and renovating their own house and the outbuildings to accommodate Becca’s kennels had been their priority. Daniel had settled in well at the village school and they’d only just started getting to know people when their life was turned upside down.
‘Milk and sugar, dear?’ Mrs Bird asked, jolting Becca from her thoughts.
‘Just milk, thank you,’ she replied. The sound of tapping claws tripped down the timber hallway and into the kitchen. Becca put down her hand for the dog to nuzzle. ‘Hello my gorgeous girl.’
‘She’s looking good,’ Mrs Bird commented.
‘I’ve entered her in Chudleigh’s,’ Becca said.
‘Really?’ the old woman said in surprise. ‘How are you going to manage it?’
Becca smiled and cradled her teacup in her hands. ‘I’ll be fine. You know I’m driving again now, and Daniel will help me.’
‘Are you sure you want to? I mean, it’s going to bring back a lot of memories,’ the old woman said.
‘I need to do something,’ Becca replied. ‘Maybe next year I’ll start breeding again.’
Mrs Bird sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Still no news from the police?’
‘Nothing. Constable Derby said it was as if they vanished into thin air. Whoever took them was well organised. The police can’t be sure if it was opportunistic or if the thieves heard about the accident and pounced, but, realistically, my babies could be halfway across the world by now,’ Becca said, blinking back tears.
Vera Bird shook her head. ‘Eight dogs going missing overnight is no mean feat.’
‘It’s lucky Siggy was at the vet’s having her annual boosters or I’d have lost them all.’ Becca bit her lip and wiped under her eyes.
Vera reached across and patted the younger woman’s arm. ‘Have faith, dear. Someone’s looking after them,’ she said with a smile.
‘I can’t believe anything different,’ Becca sniffed. She pulled a tissue from her trouser pocket and blew her nose. She looked over at Siggy, who was tilting her head to the side and shaking her ear. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Becca said, glad of the distraction.
‘Looks like an ear infection,’ Vera said. ‘Or mites. Have you checked lately?’
Becca shook her head. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen her doing it.’
Vera Bird scooped the dog onto her lap and put on the reading glasses that hung around her neck. She lifted Siggy’s ear and prodded around for a few seconds. ‘Do you have a torch?’
Becca nodded. ‘I’ll get it.’ She wheeled herself over to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a small flashlight, which she passed to Mrs Bird.
‘Aha! I think little Siggy here’s got a tick,’ the old woman announced. She squinted and ran her finger along the inside of the dog’s ear. ‘Yes, it’s a big brute.’ Siggy yelped and Vera put her back down on the ground.
‘Oh my goodness, I wonder when that happened,’ Becca said, astonished that she’d missed it. ‘She’s barely been outside. Daniel took her for a walk a couple of days ago but I’ve been so focused on getting her ready for the show, I didn’t want her being out much at all.’
‘Do you have some tweezers, dear?’ Vera asked, standing up. ‘I’ll get them.’
‘In the bathroom,’ the woman replied gratefully.
Vera walked down the hallway and off to the left, returning several minutes later with tweezers, antiseptic, rubbing alcohol and cotton buds. She placed Siggy on a chair, then wedged the torch under her chin and picked up the tweezers. Within seconds she had deftly extracted the wriggling mass, pincers intact, and disinfected the area inside Siggy’s ear. The little dog rubbed her face against Vera’s hand.
‘You look as if you’ve done that a thousand times, Mrs Bird. Do you have dogs too?’ Becca was suddenly reminded of the fact that she knew very little about her neighbour.
‘Oh, I might have done it once or twice. I … my sister used to show dogs a long time ago,’ the woman said, cuddling the thankful pooch in her arms.
The back door slammed and Daniel ran red-faced and puffing into the kitchen. He lunged straight for the sink and poured himself a large glass of water, then gulped it down.
‘Daniel,’ his mother said. ‘Say hello to Mrs Bird.’
The old woman looked over and smiled at the boy.
‘Hi,’ Daniel said, still catching his breath. ‘What’s with the hospital?’
‘Mrs Bird removed a big tick from Siggy’s ear,’ Becca said, pointing at the jar that contained the critter.
Daniel peered at it and shuddered. ‘Gross. I hate ticks.’
‘Yes, well, Siggy was none too happy about it, either,’ Mrs Bird said, stroking the dog’s long ears. ‘So, dear, who’s going to parade Siggy for you at Chudleigh’s?’
Becca looked up at Vera blankly. ‘I’ll … I was planning to, but –’ Becca glanced down at the wheelchair – ‘I can’t, can I? It didn’t even cross my mind. Gosh, what was I thinking? We’ll have to withdraw.’
Daniel turned around from the sink. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought about that either.
‘Perhaps Daniel can do it,’ Mrs Bird suggested.
Becca shook her head. ‘He’s too young. They won’t allow it.’
Mrs Bird put the terrier onto the floor and clicked her fingers. ‘Off to bed, Siggy,’ the woman instructed. Siggy looked at her, then scurried across the floor to her bed in the utility room. ‘She’s such a good girl,’ Vera said. ‘Surely you have a friend who can help out.’
Daniel looked at his mother, and the pair of them looked at Vera. ‘What about you, Mrs Bird?’ Becca said.
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ the old woman blustered. ‘I wouldn’t know the first thing –’
‘I could help you. We could watch videos of past dog shows, and Siggy adores you. She’s more obedient with you than she is with me,’ Becca pleaded.
Mrs Bird shook her head adamantly. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly.’
‘Please, Mrs Bird. You know it would make Mum so happy,’ Daniel said.
Vera thought for a moment. There was a part of her that wanted to shout yes from the rooftops, but what if …? ‘I’ll think about it,’ the woman said finally. She walked to the sink and washed her hands.
‘Oh, Mrs Bird, that’s wonderful,’ Becca said, smiling widely. ‘We could start practising tomorrow, if you’ve got time.’
The old woman frowned. ‘I haven’t said yes, dear.’
The telephone on the side table rang, and Becca looked at her guest apologetically.
‘Go on, I’ll let myself out,’ Vera said.
‘Daniel, can you see Mrs Bird to the door?’ Becca asked as she wheeled herself to answer the telephone. ‘Thank you for the eggs and the biscuits, and the tick.’
Vera Bird picked up her handbag and followed Daniel down the hallway and out onto the porch. He was about to close the door when he stopped. ‘Mrs Bird?’ he said.
‘Yes, Daniel?’ She turned and looked at the boy.
‘Can you please help Mum with the show? I know how much she’d appreciate it.’
The old woman sighed. ‘She’s a good person, your mother, and she certainly didn’t do anything to deserve all this,’ Vera said. ‘All right. You tell her that I’ll be back in the morning and we can start.’
Daniel Finchley’s face split into a smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs Bird,’ he said, feeling the pinpricks of tears at the back of his eyes. ‘I’ll let Mum know.’
Vera Bird smiled and turned to walk down the garden path. Thirty years had surely been long enough. No one would recognise her these days anyway, and if she couldn’t help her neighbour in need, what sort of a person had she become?