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had his arms folded, his blond brows lowered. ‘Was that dogs? In here?’
    ‘Joe, I’m so—’
    ‘You know how I feel about them, Cat. And what do you think would have happened if Shed had come in? For God’s sake, don’t you ever think ? How many were there? More than one from all the snuffling and the – the smell.’ He came slowly down the stairs, and Cat could almost feel his fury growing.
    ‘Three,’ she said. ‘They belong to Jessica Heybourne and she – she wants me to walk them. I’m sorry they had to come in, but it was raining, and it was only for a few minutes. She’s my first proper client.’
    He was one step above her, looking down, and Cat could see more than just anger in his expression. She felt her excitement shrivel, Joe’s disappointment crushing her more than she had thought it would. He nodded, and for a second Cat thought he was going to back down, to agree that yes, it had been justified, and hooray for her new client.
    ‘Don’t bring dogs in here,’ he said instead. ‘I don’t ask too much, I think I’m pretty reasonable, but please, please don’t bring dogs into this house. If you think that’s going to be hard because of Pooch Promenade,well then…’ He glanced away, looked back at her and then slid past her into the living room, his shoulder grazing hers. Cat stayed where she was, feeling hurt and wronged and indignant, and pretty sure that she understood what Joe’s unfinished sentence meant: work out a way to run Pooch Promenade without bringing dogs here, or find somewhere else to live.

Chapter 3
    Cat set out early into weather that had been summoned to test her resolve, wearing a black double-breasted jacket and skinny jeans, neither of which were waterproof enough. But not even the rain could dampen her spirits. She had done it. She had got two clients besides Elsie, and she was officially walking dogs. It was the first step, but hopefully the first of many with her four-legged friends.
    As she’d picked up Disco and Chalky, Elsie had given her a shoulder squeeze and a meaningful look as if she was heading into battle. Then she’d collected the three Westies. Jessica had answered the door wearing a coral dressing gown, and had been much less forthcoming than the first time they’d met, her mind on an upcoming event or her editor’s latest notes. Cat imagined her leaning on a marble countertop, ingredients laid out around her, typing on a sleek MacBook Air as she created a delicate, exquisite dish, the dogs lying at her feet. It was an elaborate daydream, but one which Jessica fitted perfectly into, and Cat preferred thinking about that than the sadness she’d seen in the author’s eyes as she’d hinted at a less than happy past.
    Cat buried her head in her collar as she negotiated the dogs past a woman with a pushchair, the hood pulled low to prevent the baby from being splattered with rain.
    Cat’s second client was a man called Terry, who lived in one of the large seafront houses, and his Rhodesian ridgeback Bertha. He wasn’t likely to be a frequent customer, but while his mother was in hospital he was having to spend a lot of time in Dorset, and couldn’t keep dragging Bertha backwards and forwards only to leave her outside the hospital, confused and alone. Cat knew it was a risk, taking such a large, strong dog out with five smaller ones, but she wasn’t going to turn down business so soon. Once she had a few more dogs she could stagger her walks, match the pets up like a dating agency – who was most suited to walk with who.

    With all six dogs on their leads, she turned away from the churning, foaming sea, the seaside car park all but deserted, and towards Fairview Park. The Westies were very well behaved, only occasionally straying into the path of a passer-by, and Bertha was at the back, gliding on her long legs, with Chalky trotting along beside. Disco was causing Cat the most trouble, but only because – with five other dogs to be excited by