One Good Thing, page 35
‘OK, well, I’d better say my goodbyes.’
I walk into the kitchen, expecting to find Stanley, but instead I see the French windows have been left open and he’s outside in the garden with Valentine. Wrapped up in scarves and gloves, Stanley has his binoculars, while Valentine is pointing at something. I walk over to them.
‘Were you both born in a barn,’ I chide, but Valentine turns to me quickly, his finger over his mouth.
‘Ssshh.’
I frown, then look up to see where he’s pointing. It’s my bird feeder. High up in the sycamore tree. There’s a bird.
‘It’s a robin,’ he whispers, his face brightening. ‘Can you see his red chest – look?’
I peer more closely, squinting into the weak late-afternoon sunshine.
‘Do you want my binoculars?’
I look down to see Stanley holding them out to me.
‘Thanks, Stan.’ I nod and take them from him. Everything’s blurry at first and I have to turn the apertures until they come into focus. And then I see it, close up: its tiny beak and glistening eyes, its feathers, the red of its chest. It’s pecking hungrily at the bird feeder, checking this way and that, as if to make sure no one has seen it yet.
‘See. I told you they’d come. You just have to be patient. Birds get scared of new things. Takes them a while to pluck up the courage. The first one is the hardest, but now the rest will follow.’
I can hear Valentine and I dip the binoculars and look at him. He’s smiling at me.
‘Took a while, but it’s worth waiting for, isn’t it?’
And then we both smile at each other, and I know he’s not just talking about the birds.
‘Liv.’
‘Yes?’ I look down at Stanley, who’s peering at me.
‘Is that your real name?’
‘Well, it’s Olivia really, but you can shorten it to Liv.’
‘Like the word “live” that means to be alive?’
‘No, mine’s spelled differently. There’s no e.’
‘But it sounds the same.’
‘Yes.’ I nod and take a deep lungful of wintry air. ‘It feels the same too.’
I can see Stan frowning, looking a bit confused, as I hand him back his binoculars and shake his hand goodbye and hug Valentine, who for the first time doesn’t just let me hug him, but squeezes me right back.
‘Where’s Ben?’
‘He’s putting my suitcase in the car. Have you seen Harry?’
As if on cue, there’s a loud barking and Harry comes barrelling out of the kitchen as he spots the squirrel. I don’t know whether it’s the turmeric paste that Valentine suggested or all the wild swimming that’s acted like hydrotherapy, but his arthritis does seem to be a lot better.
‘Is he still after that bloody squirrel?’ says Valentine. ‘He’ll never catch it.’
‘I know.’ I smile, thinking about life. ‘I don’t think he really wants to. The fun would be over then, wouldn’t it?’
I find Ben outside with the engine running, trying to warm up the Land Rover. His van is full of building materials, so we’re taking mine.
‘Got your passport?’
‘Yep,’ I nod, glancing at my suitcase in the back. I pause, noticing the sun sinking behind the trees across the graveyard, and feel Harry brush against my legs. ‘Can we just walk up the lane to the fields and watch the sunset? We’ve got time.’
Ben looks at his watch. For someone who’s never seemed that bothered by time-keeping, he’s taking his job of driving me to the airport to catch my flight to Mexico City very seriously. Satisfied, he nods.
‘You know I’m never one to miss a sunset,’ he grins.
Cutting the engine, he climbs out of the Land Rover as I unhook Harry’s lead from inside the door and clip it to his collar. Then Ben reaches for my hand and together we weave our way through the village lit with twinkling Christmas lights, past the shops and the beery warmth of the pub, its windows decorated with tinsel, to the top of the lane, where it meets the open fields and you can see right across the stone rooftops and spires of wood-smoke to the Dales. It’s almost the winter solstice and we’re fast losing the light and, with it, the temperature, and Ben pulls me closer. We climb higher. The conversation between us is circling and swooping like starlings at dusk, both of us avoiding any of the big stuff.
‘So we all go through the same stages, but the journey’s different for everyone,’ I finish, my breath coming out in little white clouds. I’ve been telling him about the theory of the seven stages, but by the confused look on Ben’s face, I’m not doing a very good job. ‘Sorry, I’m not explaining this very well, am I?’ I apologize.
He frowns. ‘So, wait a minute. What happens after stage seven?’
I shrug. ‘You get to start the rest of your life.’
There was a time when I couldn’t imagine a future. I didn’t believe I had one. So I stopped looking and concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other. When I first got Harry he was pretty much the only reason I got out of bed in the morning.
But so much has changed since that morning when I slipped on his lead and we both took our first tentative steps into our new lives. I’ve found friendship where I never expected to find it and a sense of belonging that feels like coming home. And I’ve learned so much. About faith and trust and patience and resilience; about living in the moment and having fun; and the simple wonder of a new day and the promise of another walk.
And how it took an old, scruffy dog with the bravest, biggest heart to help heal my broken one, by showing me I wasn’t alone.
As we reach the top of the hill, we come to a pause and rest against the drystone wall. The whole of the valley sweeps below us and, as we look across the Dales, Ben kisses me. His nose is cold, but his lips are warm, and it’s sweet and slow and just right. And I think how all it took was one good thing to change my life, and now it’s filled with so many.
‘So what does the rest of your life look like?’
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine.
‘This.’ I smile. ‘It looks like this.’
An Epilogue of Sorts
I used to hear people talking to their dogs in pubs, or on walks in the park, and think they were a bit barmy. But then Harry came into my life and I was let into the secret: animals are just so great to talk to. Especially dogs. Not only because they’re brilliant listeners and don’t answer back, but because they make the best confidants.
I can tell Harry anything and he’s never going to judge or criticize me. I don’t have to worry that he’s going to think me silly or pathetic. Whatever I say, I know he’ll still love me, because a dog’s love is unconditional. Moreover, I’ve never been able to open up to anyone in the way I do to Harry. It’s like a form of therapy. On our daily walks, at home on the sofa, or in the middle of the night when I used to be unable to sleep, I’ll find myself having conversations with him.
And I’m not the only one.
I often hear Valentine talking to Harry on the sofa, when I’m in the kitchen making tea and he thinks I can’t hear. And the other day Stanley told me he tells Harry all his secrets, as he knows they’re safe with him. He also pointed out that ‘Dog’ is ‘God’ spelled backwards, and how cool was that? Stanley also said that talking to Harry helps him articulate his feelings. Well, he didn’t say the word ‘articulate’ – that was his teacher. She also asked if I’d ever thought about training Harry as a therapy dog, which is something Gisele’s old care home suggested, as he was such a huge hit with their residents that time.
To be honest, Harry is no spring chicken; I don’t know if it would be too much for him or even if he’d pass all the necessary assessments; still, it’s something to think about. Stanley says Harry is a hero and would definitely pass. As proof, he insisted that we draw up a list of all the wonderful things he’s taught us. Big and small. So, for example, these are the things we’ve learned from Harry:
Live in the moment
Be brave
Don’t hold a grudge or sulk
Play every day
There are few things in life better than a sunny patch on the sofa, going for a walk in nature or curling up in front of a real fire
Drink lots of water!
Be loyal and dependable
Giving up is only the sure way to fail (he hasn’t caught that squirrel, but he’s still trying)
Love unconditionally
Looks aren’t important, and neither is age (Harry never looks in a mirror and has no idea how old he is)
Actions speak louder than words
Be enthusiastic
Don’t judge anyone by their sex, race, age, IQ or how straight their shoe laces are (Stanley was very firm about the shoe laces). We’re all just human
Have faith
Be patient (no one is more patient than Harry, when it comes to begging for scraps)
Go for it!
Joy can be found in the unlikeliest of places – like an old, stinky tennis ball, a muddy puddle or a walk in the rain
Be open to adventure
Walk more
You can never have too much sleep
Greet everyone you meet as a friend (because to Harry there are no strangers, just friends you haven’t met yet)
And, like Stanley said, if it’s on the list it must be true.
Acknowledgements
I want to say a huge thank you to my wonderful editor Trisha Jackson, for all your hard work, boundless enthusiasm and for making me feel so valued and supported as an author.
It takes a village to publish a book, so thank you also to the brilliant team at Pan Macmillan: Sara Lloyd, Lucy Hale, Stuart Dwyer, Hannah Corbett, Eleanor Bailey, Jon Mitchell, Sophie Brewer, Anna Shora, Maired Loftus, Jayne Osborne, and to designer Mel Four for such a brilliant cover.
Also, huge thanks go to proofreader Fraser Crichton and copy-editor Mandy Greenfield, Sian Chilvers and Holly Sheldrake in the production department and text designer Lindsay Nash. A special thank you to Charlotte Wright for all your hard work and patience. I really am the luckiest author in the world to work with such talented people and am so grateful for everyone’s contribution towards getting this book out into the world.
My agent Stephanie Cabot has been in my corner from the very beginning and is both a fantastic agent and a very dear friend. I am so grateful for your wise counsel and a huge thank you for everything you do.
Writing can be a lonely job and I want to thank all my friends, near and far, for keeping me company, cheering me on and making me laugh with all your funny texts, voice messages, videos, dog walks and drinks in the pub.
To my readers all over the world, thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s because of you I get to do the job I always dreamed of.
As always, I want to thank my mum, Anita, for a lifetime of love and support. I also want to say a special thank you for all your invaluable advice about doing the jive, Fifties fashion and being one of my very first readers. To my sister, Kelly, thank you for being the best big sister anyone could hope to have and for being a complete inspiration. I am so proud of you for all your tireless work with ADF and for transforming the lives of so many street dogs in Mexico.
And to my beloved AC, for all the Manhattans, notes of encouragement, beautiful flowers and daily menu of delicious meals while I was on deadline. Thank you for so many good things!
Much of this novel was written during the three national COVID lockdowns, and I have never been more grateful for the beauty of nature, which gave me so much comfort and joy. During this time, I was lucky to spend time in the Yorkshire Dales, a part of the world that is very close to my heart; in many ways this novel is a love letter to the Dales and to my dad, who would tell anyone that would listen that he lived in paradise. Nettlewick is a fictional village, but the dramatic landscape, beauty of the seasons and warmth of the people is very real.
Finally, I was inspired to write this book after adopting Elton, our dog, from Bosnia and witnessing first-hand the difference a dog can make, not only to my own life, but to the lives of other people. So I would like to give a huge thank you to just a few of the wonderful animal rescue charities for all the amazing work they do:
Wild at Heart Foundation @wild_at_heart_foundation
Animals Care Mostar @animals_we_care_mostar
Alamos Dog Foundation @alamosdogfoundation
And last but not least to Elton, for being the best canine companion an author could have; this one’s for you.
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One Good Thing
Alexandra Potter is the bestselling author of numerous romantic comedy fiction novels in the UK, including Confessions of a Forty-Something F##k Up and One Good Thing. These titles have sold in twenty-two territories and achieved worldwide sales of more than one million copies (making the bestseller charts in the UK, Germany, Czech Republic, Slovenia and Serbia). Yorkshire born and raised, Alexandra lived for several years in LA before settling in London with her Californian husband and their Bosnian rescue dog. When she’s not writing or travelling, she’s getting out into nature, trying not to look at her phone and navigating this thing called mid-life.
Also by Alexandra Potter
What’s New, Pussycat?
Going La La
Calling Romeo
Do You Come Here Often
Be Careful What You Wish For
Me and Mr Darcy
Who’s That Girl?
You’re The One That I Don’t Want
Don’t You Forget About Me
The Love Detective
Love From Paris
Confessions of a Forty-Something F##k Up
First published 2022 by Macmillan
This electronic edition first published 2022 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
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www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5290-2289-6
Copyright © Alexandra Potter 2022
Cover design: Mel Four / Pan Macmillan Art Department
Author photograph © Rhian Ap Gruffydd
The right of Alexandra Potter to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Alexandra Potter, One Good Thing
