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another ghostly thought, looming over her since her break-up with Oliver. Children. The children she’d never have now, even if she’d never wanted them before.
    ‘Harder than a child,’ said a new voice, and they both turned to the door, where George was standing, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘A child can tell you what’s wrong, whereas with dogs you’ve got to learn each other’s language. Some people don’t have the patience, but that’s not the dog’s fault. How’s your designer outfit getting on? I see you’ve abandoned the Jimmy Choos.’
    ‘I’m not afraid of a few hairs.’ Rachel gave her skirt a cursory brush. She wasn’t going to tell George that this’d be straight into the dry cleaners in the morning. ‘I didn’t realise there were so many rescue dogs here. The solicitor said Dot’s business was mainly boarding kennels?’
    ‘That’s what they were supposed to be,’ said George. ‘But Dot had her own private mission going on, to rehome every lost soul in the area. If you ask me, you’ve got the potential to make a decent living here, if those kennels weren’t full of rescue dogs. It’s the only one in the area, there’s room for a grooming parlour, plenty of space to expand – I know Dot had some offers to buy it off her over the years. I could probably put you in touch with the right estate agents.’
    ‘That would be . . .’ Rachel began, but Megan shot her a defensive glance that made her stop.
    ‘Yes, but they wouldn’t guarantee to continue the rescue, and that was Dot’s life .’ Megan turned back to the office, looking for paperwork to show her. ‘We have to keep the boarders and the rescue dogs very separate – we had five boarders in, just before she died. Only I thought it was better to wind that down for a while, till we knew what was happening.’ She paused. ‘I mean, are you . . .?’
    ‘Megan,’ warned George.
    Rachel wished her mother was here now, to see how much more complicated this was than everyone thought. Bloody ‘get me the Acker Bilk albums’. Dot hadn’t just left her a lovely six-bed villa with gardens and furniture – she’d left her a house that would probably take months to sort through, a business she didn’t have the first clue about, forms to fill in before any of it could be sold or distributed, employees that depended on her, and fifteen reject animals that she’d be guilt-tripped into dealing with.
    ‘Anyway, sorry to interrupt the tour, but I need to talk to Megan about clipping Lulu,’ said George, briskly, and strode over to Lulu’s pen as if Rachel wasn’t there. He let himself in, and to Rachel’s surprise the poodle perked up her head and allowed him to lift her. His manner with Lulu was a complete change from his manner with humans: firm, but gentle and almost tender.
    ‘You’re still not yourself, are you?’ He turned back to Megan with the dog tucked into the crook of his arm, looking smaller than ever in his sturdy hold. ‘Yes, on principle, once she’s on her feet again, it’s a good thing to get her tidied up, but you’re not to make her look like some kind of ridiculous Hollywood handbag dog. And don’t tell me about the course you’ve just done.’
    ‘I’ll do a traditional puppy trim,’ said Megan. ‘But she’d love to have some poms! Look at her, she’s a show girl!’
    ‘Megan,’ said George again, and this time he sounded properly stern. ‘She’s not a toy, and I don’t want her looking like one, in case she gets the wrong kind of attention.’
    Lulu glared at Megan from the safety of her protector’s embrace, her black button eyes shiny in the mass of matted fur.
    ‘You know that’s not what . . .’ she started, then stopped as he lifted a warning finger. Rachel sensed an old banter between the two and felt awkward.
    ‘Don’t look so horrified,’ George added, seeing her eyes fixed on Lulu’s scar. ‘She’s just been spayed. We neuter all the dogs, or rather, I