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21

Charlotte

‘I mean, I don’t mean to sound rude, but you don’t look much like a dog sitter,’ Charlotte said, staring at the enormous tattooed man standing on her doorstep. The lack of lines on what she could see of his face suggested forty, although the grey streaks in his beard made him look closer to sixty. There was a definite air of Hell’s Angel about Clive Roderick, from the massive forearms that looked carved out of granite, the AC/DC t-shirt, the huge fisherman’s beard and a mullet that would have graced any 1980s album cover. Had she not had practice looking up at James Steamblack, she might have got neck ache just trying to meet his eyes.

‘It’s what’s inside the packaging that counts,’ Clive said in a gruff voice, his beard shaking up and down. ‘Where’s the lad?’

Charlotte looked over her shoulder and whistled. Harry came bounding through from the kitchen.

‘Hey, boy,’ Clive said, squatting down and sticking out a hand.

Harry gave Clive’s hand a sniff, then sat back on his haunches and panted while Clive rubbed his back.

‘A match made in heaven,’ Clive said.

‘He seems to like you.’

‘Of course he does. The lad has good taste. I’ll introduce him to couple of my other regulars, see if we can’t get him some friends. Does two to four p.m. work?’

‘That would be lovely. Are you sure you’ll look after him?’

Clive grinned, then leaned forward and gave Harry a quick hug. The dog didn’t seem concerned about being buried in beard, panting louder than ever.

‘I think we’ll get on just fine. I’ll give you my number so you can video call me if you want to check up on him. I have plenty of references if you’re worried.’

‘If Harry is happy, then so am I. Thank you so much. He was used to my grandmother being around the house, so I’m worried about him being alone for so long while I’m at work.’

‘We can start him with a couple of days a week and build up from there if you like,’ Clive said. ‘I’m free most days.’

‘Is this your only job?’

Clive shook his head. ‘Ha, I’d love it if it were. I’m a sound engineer at Brentwell public radio, mostly working evenings.’ He patted his stomach. ‘Sadly, leaning over a mixing desk isn’t getting me the exercise I need. Nothing like walking in the park with some fresh air, is there?’

Charlotte grinned. ‘Definitely not. Are you okay to start Monday? I’ll leave the key under this flowerpot. Can I trust you not to ransack my house?’

Clive grinned. ‘I might look like a Viking, but I don’t act like one.’

‘That’s good to know.’ She rubbed her chin as a sudden idea sprung to mind. ‘I don’t suppose … have you ever impersonated Father Christmas?’

Clive threw back his head and laughed. ‘Honestly, this is the most unique job interview I can remember. Believe it or not, yes.’

Charlotte clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, great. I’m looking for someone to do my class Christmas party. Obviously, I’d ask the real Father Christmas, but I don’t have his number, and he’s probably busy….’

Clive patted his stomach. ‘Ho, ho, ho. Sure. I’d love to help.’

‘Great.’

A motorcycle pulled in just past Charlotte’s house, and she looked up in surprise. Kelly was a little early. She waved as Kelly got off and walked up the garden path. Clive turned and gave Kelly a nod.

‘Well, I’ll be off, then,’ he said. ‘I’ll be round on Monday. Under the flowerpot, right?’

‘That’s right. Thanks so much, Clive.’

Clive said a polite goodbye to Kelly then headed off. By the kerb, he climbed onto a moped that looked small enough to be crushed beneath him, then buzzed off up the street.

Kelly looked at Charlotte, open-mouthed. ‘Is that Harry’s new pet-sitter?’

Charlotte grinned. ‘Terrifying, isn’t he? No one would dare steal Harry with him around. And they got on so well. He seemed like a lovely man.’