Free Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts by Lucy Dillon Page A

Pippin,’ said Freda, decisively. ‘It’s not fair, with us being so old . . .’
    ‘Get away with you. Rachel, that’s for you?’
    Rachel looked at the sandwich and felt her mouth water. ‘For me?’
    ‘Yeah! We make bacon sarnies for all the volunteer weekend walkers, it’s part of the deal. Can’t have you going out on an empty stomach.’ Megan ticked her list, and dispensed some Bonios to the dogs. ‘While you’re eating that, let me give you a quick rundown of how it all works.’
    Rachel hesitated. Normally she didn’t eat bread – rather, she didn’t let herself keep it in the house – but this smelled delicious. And after all, it wasn’t like she’d be squeezing herself into any of Oliver’s La Perla lingerie any time soon. Before she could stop herself, she’d picked it up and had taken a delicious, ketchup-oozing bite. Her tastebuds reeled in delight.
    ‘You’re OK with a couple of dogs, aren’t you?’ Megan went on. ‘Gem’s no bother, he doesn’t need a lead, but he’s training Tinker and Flash to walk to heel. They’re just getting used to it, never been on a lead before. Came in from some woman in Rosehill, bit of a BYB, George reckons.’
    ‘BYB?’
    ‘Oh, sorry. Backyard breeder.’
    Freda made a clucking noise, and looked up at Rachel, her kindly face wreathed in disapproval. ‘Some of these poor mites that come in – never been for a walk in their lives. Barely even been out of the shed where they’re kept, tied up like puppy machines. It makes me want to . . .’
    ‘Freda, don’t put Rachel off!’ said Megan. She shot a glance at Rachel. ‘We don’t often get serious cases like that. These two aren’t so bad, honestly. They’re both Westies, George brought them over a few days ago. He sometimes gets a tip-off, about breeders wanting to offload dogs – not everyone who has dogs is a dog lover, sadly.’
    ‘And he brings them here?’ He’s got a nerve, lecturing me about keeping an eye on the business side of things and not being a soft touch, she thought.
    ‘Yeah, Dot always took them in. We love them, poor scared darlings. They just need a bit more TLC than your usual hand-in. Are you ready to go?’
    Rachel realised she’d demolished the sandwich in about three bites. Until then, she’d had no idea just how hungry she was but now she thought about it, she hadn’t had a full meal since . . . ten days ago. Since the quick supper she’d thrown together just before Oliver came round and set off the hideous train of events.
    ‘There’ll be more when you get back,’ said Freda, arranging her Dog World , her mobile and the pot of tea next to her. ‘Any emergencies, I’ll call you. Have I got your number?’
    She looked at Rachel, who started to say that her phone wasn’t charged but Megan unplugged something from the wall and passed it over.
    ‘I charged it up for you,’ she said helpfully. ‘Same one as mine. Coincidence, eh?’
    Rachel turned it on, and immediately it bleeped with messages. Fifteen missed calls, ten texts. That was why she’d let it go flat. ‘Um, thanks.’
    ‘Off you go!’ said Freda. ‘Don’t miss this lovely sunshine!’
    Megan pressed some bits and pieces into Rachel’s hands. ‘Poobags, treats, whistle, lead, sweets for yourself.’ She smiled. ‘Welcome to the world of dog walking!’
     
    Outside in the apple orchard, the air was crisp, and on the bare branches of the trees there were pale green buds, against a bright blue sky flooded with sunlight.
    As Megan had predicted, Rachel did feel better for the fresh air filling her lungs, and though her legs initially protested, waddling along in Dot’s spare wellington boots, she found keeping up with Megan’s brisk pace pumped more than just blood round her body. It seemed to make her brain tick over, and for the first time in days one thought led to another instead of round and round in a constricting loop.
    They were mainly thoughts about where she was putting her feet