Four o’clock draws nearer and I stake out the balcony, trying to read the latest Lee Child book, which Sam kindly posted to me. You know you’ve got it bad when you’ve read and reread the same paragraph four times and still have absolutely no idea what it says. Especially when you discover it’s upside down. I chuckle to myself and then stop, realising maybe I’ve been alone too long. It’s a good job no one can see me. They’d think I was totally crazy.
Four o’clock comes and goes and still no sign of Sophia. I peer at my phone for the hundredth time and wonder if I made a mistake. It’s nearly quarter past and I give up any pretence of reading the book and cast it to one side. It’s no good; I can’t concentrate at all. I was like this right at the start of lockdown too. Twitchy. I couldn’t focus on reading a book or settling to any task for any length of time. It was as though I was subtly but seriously switched on to high alert. Yet for the last few weeks that feeling has settled and I’ve been able to read a few thrillers, which really take my mind off things.
Not this time though, I am like a contestant on Blind Date, excited but anxious. Except this isn’t even a date. I really need to get a grip, seeing as getting out more is hardly an option.
From below, there’s the sound of a door banging in the courtyard, and someone walks into view. It’s her, it has to be. I crane my neck and am rewarded by the sight of a willowy figure in a long white top, jeans and pumps walking briskly across the grey stones. But her face and hair are totally obscured by a huge wide-brimmed sun hat. As I watch, she disappears round the corner, along with my hopes of finally seeing what she looks like.
Chapter 25
Sophia
The first part of my walk with Benson is totally taken up with trying to keep a firm grip on his lead; this dog has the strength of a horse.
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, love?’ Derek had asked, almost cowering away from the large boisterous dog as he barged towards me and out of the front door. Benson that is, not Derek.
‘He’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll calm down after some exercise,’ I say more positively than I feel. He is super wired. I’ve seen working Border collies with less energy than this thunderbolt of long limbs, fluff and vitality.
‘I hope so. He has been very cooped up,’ Derek said, hovering like an overanxious parent about to leave their child at nursery for the first time.
Fortunately I was out of view as soon as I left the courtyard – he had been making me nervous. I had already planned my route, as the only stretches of green around us have become a hive of activity. The whole town has only one place to visit for their daily exercise, making it increasingly difficult to socially distance. Mind you, Benson would soon clear a space if I let him off his lead right now. He would have knocked people over like skittles.
I have to choose somewhere that isn’t so appealing to the crowds trying to get their daily exercise, whilst I check out how much I can control this super bouncy pup. Instead of heading towards the park, I make for the back of the local industrial estate, where there is a patch of waste grassland that backs on to what looks a bit like swamp. I’ll have to hope Benson doesn’t like water.
We pass Mavis on the other side of the street at top speed and I can barely shout, ‘Hi, Mavis, lovely day,’ and she can barely reply, ‘Looking after that livewire! Good luck!’ before I am off again. We manage to reach our destination without too much trouble, considering. I find my pace has quickened dramatically as Alsatians have a long loping stride, which requires a fast walk/half run to keep up. And then of course there’s the whole social distancing rigmarole.
I find myself smiling apologetically as I take a wide berth round a couple coming towards me on the main road. It seems to work. They smile and nod back; it kind of takes the sting out of the physical rejection of the action. At least the roads are quiet; it makes it easier to walk round people