A moment later there’s the sound of breaking glass and Harold barking more frenziedly than I’ve ever heard him. Matt draws in breath sharply. “Fucking…fuck!”
“What?” I say in terror.
“Intruder,” says Matt over his shoulder, and my whole body spasms in fright.
Matt’s already thundering through the flat into the kitchen, and I skitter behind him. The back door is ajar, there’s glass all over the floor, and Harold is at the top of the fire escape, barking his lungs out.
“Harold!” I make a grab for him, but he hurls himself out of my grasp, past Matt and down the fire escape, with the wildest barks I’ve ever heard. “Harold!” I yell in horror. “Stop! Come back!” I make for the fire escape, but Matt grabs my arm, hard.
“Stay,” he says. “I’ll go.”
He clatters down the fire escape and I stand there, my heart pumping, unable to hear either Matt or Harold, thinking, What do I do? Do I call the police? Will they even come? I get as far as pulling out my phone—but then Matt’s back again, coming in through the back door, panting hard.
“Couldn’t catch the intruder,” he manages, between breaths. “Fuck knows where they went. Harold went haring after them. I called him back, but…you can guess how much notice he took of me. Ava, are you OK?”
He gazes at me, his eyes dark and anxious, and I feel as though some sort of unbearable swell is rising up inside me.
“Matt, I’m sorry!” My words burst out in a hot, desperate torrent. “I’m so, so sorry. You were right all along! I should have fixed the door. I should have bought padlocks. I should have listened to you about the crime stats. I should have listened about everything—”
“No!” Matt holds me by the shoulders, his own eyes glistening. “You were right all along. Harold’s a star. He’s a champion. There’s nothing wrong with that dog, nothing. He protected you tonight. Protected you better than I did. I love your dog. I love your dog,” he says again, almost fiercely.
“Really?” I falter.
“Are you kidding?” He stares at me, his face working with emotion. “Ava, I love your life. I love your flat. I love your rescue books. And your stupid hot baths. And your vegetarian food. And your…I don’t know, your shit everywhere. And your friends. And—”
“Well, I love your friends,” I cut in, my voice shaking. “And your ugly building. And your Internet countdown. And I love your art,” I say with passion. “I love the hairless wolf and the freaky hands and all of it…because it’s you. It’s you, Matt. And I love you.”
“Even when you smashed up my art, I still loved you,” says Matt, his gaze resolute. “I loved you even more.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
Tears have started streaming down my face, and I wrap my arms around Matt, suddenly feeling as though I could hold on to him forever.
“Let’s never split up again,” I say against his chest, my voice a little shuddery.
“Never.”
“Ever.”
“Do you…really love Harold?” I can’t help adding as we finally draw apart a little, and Matt gives me a wry smile.
“I really love Harold. Don’t ask me why, but I do. I love when he steals my food, I love when he shreds my shirts….”
“No you don’t,” I say with a gurgle of laughter.
“I do,” says Matt adamantly. “I love that dog more than I thought I could ever love a dog. Speaking of which, where is he?” Matt’s head swivels around. “We need to go and find him. I assumed he would run back.”
“What if the burglar’s kidnapped him?” I say in fright, and Matt gives me one of his looks.
“Unlikely,” he says. “Can you imagine kidnapping Harold? But we should track him down.”
We head down to the garden and check that first, but there’s no sign. Then we go out to the street and walk along, hand in hand, calling out at intervals through the dark night air.
“Harold? Harold!”
“Where are you, stupid dog? HAROLD!”
“What if he’s lost?” I say anxiously as we reach the corner of a cross street.
“He won’t be lost. He’s probably showing off to the street dogs. He’s probably got a gang by now. Harold!” Matt raises his voice. “Harold, you idiot! Come HOME!” Then he freezes. “Wait. Hear that?”
We stand motionless, and I suddenly hear it, too: the sound of distant, familiar barking.
“Harold!” I say in relief. “There he is! Except…where?” I turn around on the spot bewilderedly, trying to work out which