Page 43 of Her Fixer Upper

‘Look, Ted, what’s this?’ Charlie tried the other, usually foolproof, method of bribing him with a treat. But Ted only gave it a half-hearted sniff before he returned to the spot where his bed had been and continued his sit-in protest.

Eventually, when it became clear that neither persuasion nor gentle coercion was going to work, Charlie bent down and picked Ted up.

‘Good thing you’re a Border Terrier and not a Labrador or larger, old boy,’ he said. To be honest, I think that’s what Ted had been angling for the whole time. Charlie cuddled Ted to him and muttered comforting nothings in his soft ears, which also made me feel a bit better. Thankfully Ted perked up once we got in the car, and by the time we returned to Oak Tree Cottage, he was once again acting like the big dog in a little body that he was.

When we got the call to say that Granddad was out of surgery and doing well, Charlie had already fixed Ted up with his own dog-safe run. I say dog-safe, but what actually happened was that Ted solemnly watched Charlie working for several hours to construct a vast pen for him in the garden, cutting back the weeds and fencing off a sizeable run, and then as soon as Charlie declared it completely dog-proof, Ted calmly hopped over the fence and started pottering around the rest of the garden without a care in the world.

‘I swear he did that deliberately,’ said Charlie, wiping the sweat from his brow, and shaking his head at the pooch’s antics.

‘You know Ted, he doesn’t let anything stand in his way,’ I said, glad to have something to laugh about. Although Granddad was out of imminent danger, I knew there were still many post-surgery complications which could affect a man of his seniority.

‘I honestly thought I’d built the fence high enough. The guy on YouTube said it would create a secure space for a dog twice Ted’s size.’

I smiled. ‘Ah, so you’ve finally caught the YouTube tutorial bug too?’

Charlie looked embarrassed. ‘It seemed to be working for you, so I thought I’d give the more methodical approach a go. I don’t understand where I went wrong.’

‘For a man who works in social media, you seem remarkably naïve about how these influencers work. I’m beginning to believe that it’s all in the edit, and the bits where they go wrong or get stuck end up on the cutting-room floor. Besides, Ted’s a bright boy. If he’s determined enough, he’ll find a way.’

‘Ted might be determined, but I’m even more so. I won’t let him get the better of me.’

True to his word, Charlie spent the rest of the afternoon battling with the dog run. It grew more and more elaborate, as he fished bits of the old kitchen units out of the skip to help the construction process. Finally, he declared himself satisfied, and so I brought Ted back out from where he’d been ‘helping’ me choose paint for the kitchen, aka snoring on his back with his legs in the air.

With a great sense of theatre, Charlie scooped Ted up and deposited him in the run, and gave a bow.

‘Your domain, my lord,’ he said.

Ted scampered around the boundary, sniffing the escape-proof solid walls with determination. When he finally realised that there was nowhere to get out, he sat in the middle of the run and gave a plaintive howl.

‘Give him a second, he’ll get used to it,’ said Charlie, the uncertainty in his voice contradicting the confidence of his words.

Ted let out another ‘haruuuuwl’ of despair and anguish. I couldn’t bear it any longer. I clambered over the barrier and picked him up, burying my face in his warm fur.

‘I’m sorry, Ted. Mean Charlie won’t make you stay in it any longer, I promise.’

‘I swear he just winked at me,’ said Charlie with a laugh. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Ted, you managed to get out of the escape-proof run. You’re definitely going to add to the laughter in the Hutchinson–Humphries household.’

ChapterTwenty-One

‘Ithink it’s time to move some furniture in,’ declared Charlie, as we watched a skip-load of rubbish and renovation detritus being raised onto the back of a flatbed truck, another empty skip replacing it. Granddad’s gift really was the present that kept on giving.

‘Do you think? But I was getting quite used to my air bed. Minimalistic living is all the rage, don’t you know?’

Since the drama of Granddad’s fall, Charlie and I had reverted to normal, our behaviour business as usual, which was helping me to cope with the worry, even if it made other niggling thoughts harder to ignore.

Charlie laughed. ‘You might be getting used to it, but I’m growing a bit sick of my yoga mat. It felt very virtuous to begin with but I’m starting to develop some serious aches and pains.’

‘Guessing you’re a way off guru status then?’

‘Most definitely. Give me a memory foam mattress with crisp white sheets any day.’

The image of Charlie sitting up in bed and running his hands over the sheets, inviting me to join him, suddenly intruded on my mind. I swallowed, feeling myself blush.

‘You all right, Freya?’ he asked. ‘The sun getting too much for you?’

‘If that’s an attempt at a redhead joke, Charlie Humphries, I’m not having it,’ I said, deciding it was best to go on the offensive.

Charlie held his arms up in surrender. ‘I wouldn’t dare. I’ve still got the wound from the last time I tried it. You threw a wellington boot at me.’

---