claret Etta had splurged on especially to share with him, as a peace offering for the director. What fun lunch had been.
It was only after he’d swirled off in a cloud of dust that Etta realized he hadn’t left any dog food. So Etta walked Priceless up to the village shop and bought two tins of Butcher’s Tripe and a packet of dog biscuits. Priceless was a most beautiful dog, black with a white shirt front and loving, long brown eyes. He was wonderful on the lead, matching his step to hers. But when she let him loose on the edge of the wood, he took off after a rabbit sunning itself in Marius’s field and didn’t return for an hour, by which time Etta had nearly rung the police. He then lifted his leg on all her tubs, drank noisily out of the lavatory and ate the contents of the two tins and all the biscuits, before going to the door and whining and whining for Seth.
‘I know how you feel, darling, I miss him too,’ sighed Etta, particularly as she now hadn’t any drink to cheer herself up with.
Priceless, however, was a pragmatist. Having thrown all the cushions, including one saying ‘Love me, love my Golden Retriever’, on to the floor, he stretched out the entire length of Etta’s sofa. When Gwenny came in at bedtime, and hissed worse than water spilled inside Romy’s Aga, Priceless retreated to Etta’s double bed, deciding it was much more restful than the rumpy-pumpy of Seth and Corinna’s or whoever. When Etta sat beside him and stroked his sleek black body, his breathing immediately became faster and shorter until he fell asleep.
Etta was so tired that she got into her nightie but found there was only about three inches of space on either side of Priceless, and one side was soon occupied by Gwenny. Etta therefore curled up in a foetal position along the pillows. No doubt Chisolm would join them any minute, followed by the ghost of Beau Regard. If only Seth were there too. Etta took a deep breath and hunched her shoulders in longing. She was just wondering what she was going to live on for the next month when she fell asleep.
Priceless stayed for a fortnight, eating Etta out of bungalow and home, running away less and less, and endearing himself to Gwenny, Poppy and Drummond, who loved it when he suddenly went berserk and did half a dozen laps round the orchard at thirty-five miles an hour. None of this paid Etta’s bills, but up at the yard she got a tip from Rogue Rogers: Rupert Campbell-Black’s colt, Penscombe Poodle, who was running at Goodwood at 20–1. Seeing Woody in the street, she gave him her last £50 to put on for her.
To her delighted relief, Poodle annihilated the opposition, winning by several lengths. Thank you, thank you, God. Etta was as overjoyed as Rupert in the paddock. To celebrate she rushed out and bought a bottle of Sancerre for herself and a chicken for Priceless, who was the dearest dog. She loved the way he took her hand gently in his mouth to lead her on walks. She was sad Seth hadn’t rung but he was probably very busy.
On the way back from the shop, she met Woody in his stump-grinding van.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she cried. ‘I hope you backed Poodle too.’
Woody felt the same sickening crunch as when you tread on a snail in the dark. Next moment he had clapped a big grimy hand to his smooth, normally untroubled forehead in horror:
‘Oh my God, Etta, I forgot, I am so sorry. I got sidetracked. Oh Christ, here’s your fifty quid back.’ He unearthed it from his jeans pocket. ‘What were the odds?’
‘Twenty to one. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault, Woody, please don’t worry.’
But how on earth was she going to feed herself, Gwenny and Priceless and the children for the next month? She’d hoped to use the rest of the money as down payment on a car.
Woody was appalled. Poor Etta, he ought to give her the equivalent but he was desperately broke, paying for a home carer for his mother when he went out to work because she’d started taking all her clothes off at the day centre. Insurance premiums were still rising, and there was a limited amount of work he could take on by himself. He had, on the other hand, done a lot of clearing up in North Wood