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despite James’s suggestion that Buddy could be returned, like an ill-fitting sweater. Once upon a time, she had despised people who likened the trials of early parenthood to pet ownership. ‘Ooh, I know what you mean,’ her old colleague Clemmie had sympathised when Kerry had mentioned her chronic sleep deprivation when Freddie was a baby. ‘Ginger drives us crazy too when he wants to go out at night.’ Please don’t compare a politely mewing pussy with the nocturnal roars of a six-month-old human baby, Kerry had wanted to snap. But now, she’s beginning to understand the similarities. Dog, baby: both say, ‘RESPONSIBILITY’ and ‘DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU’RE UP TO THIS?’

      Her mobile rings, and she pulls it out from the pocket of her faded denim skirt with an abrupt, ‘Hello?’

      ‘Hi, is it a good time?’ Rob always says this, realising, of course, that there is never a good time to converse with the Impregnator.

      ‘’S’pose so.’ The book is lying open on Kerry’s lap. Her eyes alight upon a picture of a dog attempting to mount the leg of an elderly lady sitting in a winged armchair.

      ‘You sound busy.’

      The picture is captioned Inappropriate Sexual Behaviour. ‘I’m just out,’ she murmurs.

      ‘Right, well, I won’t keep you a minute. It’s about this weekend …’

      ‘Uh-huh …’

      ‘Er …’ Rob sighs audibly. ‘Look, I know how you feel, Kerry.’

      She frowns so hard, it makes her head hurt. ‘Do you?’

      ‘Well, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just know you don’t want to see me, and I understand that, but I have to talk to the kids, okay? I need some time with them. I can’t tell you how awful I—’

      ‘Spare it, Rob,’ she cuts in, glaring down at a paragraph on post-operative mood changes: His over-eagerness to mate with every passing female will diminish immediately, following castration.

      ‘I, er, thought maybe I could come down on Saturday morning and take them over to Mum and Dad’s,’ Rob adds. ‘They could spend the night there with me, if that sounds okay.’

      Kerry considers this. While her inclination is to say no – for reasons that she cannot begin to articulate – she is keenly aware how much Freddie and Mia are missing their father.

      ‘I suppose so,’ she mutters, ‘as long as your parents are fine with it.’

      ‘Of course they are. They love seeing the kids. This has been so hard for Mum and Dad and you know how fond of you they are—’

      ‘All right,’ she snaps.

      ‘Sorry.’ He pauses. ‘Are the kids okay, d’you think?’

      ‘Well, they’ll be happy tomorrow,’ she says tersely. ‘I’m collecting a dog.’

      ‘Are you? So you’re really going ahead with it?’

      ‘Yes, why wouldn’t I?’ Out of the corner of her eye she sees a statuesque blonde woman entering the shop. It’s Brigid, clutching the hand of Joe, her sugar-scattering little boy.

      ‘There’ll be all the walking,’ Rob points out.

      ‘I can walk, you know. I am capable of forward motion.’

      ‘I know, it’s just … I wouldn’t want you to rush into anything,’ Rob mumbles.

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘I mean—’

      ‘You wouldn’t want me to rush into anything?’

      ‘I just mean,’ Rob blusters, ‘it’ll be a hell of a tie for you …’

      ‘Like having a baby?’ she blurts out, unable to stop herself.

      ‘No, no, that’s totally different …’

      ‘Because you’ve obviously thought that through really carefully,’ she charges on, keeping her head down and praying that Brigid doesn’t spot her. Luckily, she seems to be engrossed in the mind, body and spirit section while Joe spins a rack of charity gift leaflets with unnerving speed.

      ‘Kerry, please—’

      ‘You’ve obviously taken a really measured view of things,’ she continues, her cheeks burning, ‘and decided that, when you had a little wobble about moving to the coast, the most sensible course of action was to impregnate the intern.’

      ‘Er, she’s the editorial assistant,’ he mutters.

      ‘I don’t give a damn what she does, Rob. She could be expected to clean the urinals with her tongue for all I care.’ Kerry clamps her mouth shut, heart thumping against her ribs. An elderly woman in the poetry section peers over and frowns.

      ‘Anyway, good luck with the dog,’ Rob says dully as they finish the call.

      Aware that her face is still scrunched into an unbecoming frown, Kerry allows herself a moment to picture Buddy attacking Rob when he shows up on Saturday. All dogs are capable of biting, after all. Perhaps, having bonded immediately with Kerry, Buddy will sense that this tall, dark-eyed man has wronged her in the most terrible way and go in for the kill. As Brigid continues to peruse the shelves, Kerry cheers herself up by imagining Rob staggering out of her house, his favourite Aquascutum trousers ripped at the shins and splattered with blood.

      How is it possible to spend thirteen years with someone and not realise what an absolute dick they are? Kerry muses. You’d think there’s be signs – iffy sexual preferences, or worrying political views. But there was nothing. Sweet, well-meaning, bit-on-the-earnest-side Rob, with the head-turning good looks. What went wrong?

      ‘Kerry?’ With a start, she looks up to where Brigid is towering above her in a dangerously short T-shirt dress and flat pumps.

      ‘Oh, hi, Brigid.’ Although she’s pleased to see her again, she doesn’t know if she’s capable right now of coming across as the kind of woman Brigid might want to be friends with.

      ‘Sorry, you’re reading. I didn’t mean to disturb you. God, I know how lovely it is when you can steal a few minutes with a book.’

      ‘Mummy-I-want-that-book,’ Joe mumbles.

      ‘Just a minute, darling …’

      ‘You’re not disturbing me at all,’ Kerry says brightly. ‘I was just having a quick browse … aren’t you well today, Joe?’

      He frowns at her and shakes his head. ‘He’s supposed to have a tummy ache,’ Brigid says with a roll of her eyes, ‘but by ten o’clock he seemed to have made a full recovery.’

      ‘I want that book,’ he barks.

      ‘Well, I’m not buying it, sweetheart. I’m not having it in the house. Anyway,’ Brigid continues, indicating the hardback on Kerry’s lap, ‘can I assume you’re planning on getting a new family member?’

      Kerry smiles. ‘Yes, I am. You probably think I’m completely mad …’

      ‘Not at all,’ she exclaims. ‘We love dogs, don’t we, Joe?’

      ‘I WANT THAT BOOK!’

      ‘Sorry, absolutely not.’ Brigid grins conspiratorially at Kerry. ‘Anyway, maybe you’d like to meet ours sometime. We could walk them together. I always think it’s good for dogs to socialise, don’t you?’

      ‘I don’t actually know,’ Kerry admits with a smile. ‘He’ll be our first. I’ve arranged to pick him up tomorrow.’

      ‘Oh, I’m so excited for you.’ Brigid’s cheery demeanour has made Kerry’s prickliness over the conversation with Rob fade away. Her gold hoop earrings and cluster of jingly bracelets are a little glitzy for Shorling, Kerry notes approvingly. How pleasing to meet someone who doesn’t appear to conform

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