Free Second Time Around by Marcia Willett Page A

welcoming that Tessa’s nervousness began to fade.
    â€˜Hello,’ she said. ‘Mr Spenlow? I’m Tessa Rainbird.’
    â€˜Hello. Come in. This is wonderful.’ He was attempting to shake hands, lead her in and shut the door all at once and she laughed as they stood together in the narrow hallway. He laughed, too, rumpling his
thick brown hair and grimacing at himself. ‘It’s just such a relief,’ he said, taking her coat. ‘I wasn’t planning to go away and then something blew up and poor old Custard … Well, he doesn’t really care for the bright lights and he’s not an easy dog to farm out. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.’
    Tessa followed him into the kitchen. It had nothing of the charm of Kate’s kitchen or the cosiness of the Andersons’, nor did it have the streamlined efficiency she had become used to in the homes of some of her richer clients. It was a simple ordinary room but any detail, for the moment, escaped her. Her whole attention was taken by a huge black dog who was sitting sideways on a shabby old sofa under the window. He leaned heavily against the back of the seat, his back legs stretched forward to their full length, his head resting wearily on a grubby cushion. His eye rolled towards Tessa but he made no move.
    â€˜Is that Charlie Custard?’ she asked. She realised that she had lowered her voice, as though she might be in the presence of some great personage. ‘Is he OK?’
    â€˜He’s exhausted,’ said Freddie, bustling to fill the kettle. ‘Aren’t you, Custard old chap? He’s been to two Christmas parties and he’s absolutely worn out.’
    The dog sighed heavily and shut his eyes. Tessa watched, spellbound.
    â€˜ Two parties?’ she asked, rather awed by Charlie Custard’s social commitments. ‘Gosh!’
    â€˜You know the Lampeters?’ asked Freddie. ‘Well, their Jessie is one of my dogs. Did Kate tell you I bred them? Not any more but there are still a few of mine about. The Barrett-Thompsons? Yes? Know them? Well, Ozzy is Jessie’s litter brother. Custard is their father. We have a get-together every now and again’
    Tessa advanced cautiously upon the sofa. ‘Hello,’ she said, stroking the big black head. ‘Who’s a beautiful boy?’
    Charlie Custard was unmoved by this show of adulation. He sighed again but opened an eye to look at her. Tessa laughed. ‘You’re
an old fraud,’ she said. ‘Worn out, indeed. I suspect you’ve been coming the heavy parent with your offspring.’
    Custard’s tail moved languidly once or twice and Freddie chuckled. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Don’t be alarmed at his size. He’s very obedient.’
    â€˜I do hope so,’ murmured Tessa, gazing at the dog’s huge bulk and hoping that a clash of wills would not occur.
    â€˜You’ll be fine,’ declared Freddie confidently. ‘And you don’t need to take him beyond the paddock if you’re not happy about it.’
    It had needed only a day or two with Charlie Custard to give her confidence, however. She was used to the Lampeters’ Jessie—although she saw now that Jessie was quite a small bitch compared with this male of the species—but Custard was a gentleman and, more importantly, a very lazy gentleman. He strolled peaceably at her side and even should a sheep break cover at his very paws or a rabbit hop into his path, he would merely prick up his ears and stare in amazement at such effrontery. In the evening, as she sat before the wood fire in the ugly tiled fireplace in Freddie’s little sitting room, Charlie Custard would come to lean against her legs and the chair would slowly but steadily run backwards under his weight until it came to rest against the wall or some other obstruction.
    She had been deeply touched to find a tiny Christmas tree