Logging - Nick Spalding Page 0,92

bottom that said, ‘Warning: This detox may result in strange dogs dressed as Gandalf having sex with your right shin’, I doubt I would have bothered with the whole thing.

‘Can you . . . can you get him to stop?!’ Grace exclaims.

I look over at Wilberforce and Colin, who are both now holding up dog treats again.

‘I’m honestly not sure!’ I screech. ‘Lads! Any ideas?!’

‘We all give him treats!’ Wilberforce suggests, rummaging around in his pocket and producing a small bag. This he holds out in Grace’s direction.

‘Take one!’ I tell her.

‘I don’t want to!’ she argues – quite understandably.

‘Please, God! Take a treat and wave it at the molester on my leg!’ I wail.

‘OK! OK!’ Grace grabs a treat from the bag with a disgusted look on her face.

‘Hold it out to him!’ Colin tells her as he and Wilberforce crouch down to do the same. She follows suit, and I’m instantly reminded of the three wise men at the crib of the little baby Jesus – only this baby Jesus is snorting like a pig and thrusting like an eighties heavy metal frontman.

Luckily . . . thankfully . . . by the grace of God, and by the grace of Grace . . . Puggerlugs sees what they are all holding out for him, jumps off my leg and goes over to snatch the treat from Grace’s hand.

After he does this, Wilberforce gathers him back up in his arms again and steps backwards.

I slump against the wall, trying very hard not to think about the fresh stain on the leg of my jeans.

Grace stands upright again and takes a deep breath. She then points at Colin and his boyfriend.

‘Are they staying for dinner?’ she asks.

I look at her in horror. Partly at the thought of these three hanging around while I serve up my crab linguine, and partly that Grace would even think that I would have invited them.

‘No!’ I cry, suddenly spurred into motion. There’s no way I’m going to sit there and masticate on a semifreddo while a horny pug attempts sex with any more of my body parts, or furniture.

‘Colin!’ I snap at the two interlopers. ‘I think it’s time for you, Wilberforce and Puggerlugs to leave!’

‘Yes! Yes! I’m so sorry, Mr Bellows!’ Colin wails.

‘We are so very sorry!’ Wilberforce adds.

‘That’s fine, that’s fine! No real harm done,’ I tell them. ‘But please leave, the both of you.’

Wilberforce scuttles towards the door, his rampant dog gripped tightly against his chest.

‘Goodbye!’ he says to Grace, who unconsciously takes a step backward as he passes. This doesn’t seem to offend Wilberforce in the slightest, and he powers his way back through my front door without another word.

Colin follows swiftly behind, offering his goodbyes to Grace as well. He follows Wilberforce out of the door, leaving Grace and I staring at each other in utter disbelief.

‘What on earth was all that about?’ Grace says.

I throw my arms out. ‘I literally have no idea,’ I tell her.

‘Mr Bellows!’

‘Jesus Christ!’ I scream.

Wilberforce has reappeared in the doorway.

‘Mr Bellows . . . do you think I should do a detox?’ he asks me.

‘Yes!’ I tell him. ‘You should definitely do a detox, Wilberforce.’

‘Thank you!’

‘And get Puggerlugs neutered while you’re bloody at it!’

‘Come away, Wilberforce!’ I hear Colin screech, and the little man disappears from view once again.

I’m taking no fucking chances this time. I leap over to the front door and slam it closed with all of my might.

‘Oh my God!’ Grace exclaims, and sits down hard on the couch.

‘I know, right?’ I reply, leaning against the door.

‘Did you know they were coming over?’

‘No! They just turned up, and – well, you know . . .’

‘What did they want?’

‘Advice.’

‘About detoxing?’

‘Yep.’

‘What was the dog sex about?’

I have to think about this for a second. ‘It’s a long, complicated story, Grace. One that I will only be able to tell over partially frozen Italian cream.’

‘I beg your pardon? ’

With another one of my patented world-weary sighs, I stand upright and indicate towards the kitchen. ‘Come with me and I’ll explain.’

And, by the time we do move on to the chocolate and honey semifreddo, I have indeed explained in as much detail as I possibly can.

The meal has gone well so far. You’ll be pleased to know the linguine came out a treat.

‘Oh, that’s actually quite sad, isn’t it?’ Grace remarks as I inspect the first three semifreddo attempts. She’s sitting at my breakfast bar – which doubles as my dining table – sipping