'Has he called?' Georgie asked, full of anticipation.
'No,' I sighed, flopping down on a stool. It had been three weeks since that disaster of a Valentine's night, when Miller had left the morning after and promised to come back. I'd done as he'd asked and given him some space, but I was beginning to wonder if he'd really meant it or if it was just an excuse to get away.
'I'm going to throttle him when I next see him,' Georgie growled. 'Right, put the kettle on. I'm coming over to cheer you up.'
'There's no need,' I said feebly, hoping she'd see through my pathetic attempts to pretend I was ok.
'There is, for you and for me. Arsehole just messaged to say he's on his way as "he wants to talk." Unless he's planning on talking to my fist, I have nothing more to say to him.'
'Greg's coming over?' I uttered, full of surprise. She hadn't heard from him since she'd kicked him out well over a year ago.
'Mmmm-hmmm,' she confirmed. 'So I'm coming to you via the back gate, along with his suitcase of precious first edition comic books, which he left behind in his rush to be with the Dilbury hussy. I'm going to open it, take them all out of their plastic wrappers, then hold Sumo over them so he can drop his stinky load all over his treasured possessions.'
'Sumo doesn't poo on demand, Georgie,' I reminded her. 'His bowels seem to have a life of their own, but he has wolfed down about four days' worth of breakfast this morning, so I'm sure there's going to be a mega-blast anytime soon. Speaking of, I can feel my breakfast rumbling. See you in a minute.'
I looked through the glass of the French doors to see he was still happily circling the large back garden, and dashed to the utility toilet.
'Hello,' called Georgie about five minutes later.
'Put the kettle on,' I yelled from my perch on the toilet. Nothing was happening, but each time I thought I was done and stood up, I had to sit back down again. 'I'm not feeling so great. We have a slight upset tummy situation going on, cramps and everything.'
'I told you that reheating rice was a dangerous pastime,' she called back.
'Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is my boy ok?'
'I don't know. Do you want me to go and check on him in the lounge?'
'He's not there. He's riding the Sumo Express around the garden, refusing to come in.'
'Not when I came in, it was parked at your dad's station.'
'Really? Not up at the house?'
'No, I thought it was odd, too. Not like him to walk anywhere unless he has to. He must have got confused and got off a stop early. I'll go and check the lounge for you. Kettle's on, don't be long.'
'I can't poo any faster,' I hollered with a roll of my eyes. Damn rice. I'd been reheating meals for years without a problem, why today? I sighed with relief as I felt and heard some movement.
'Abbie, he's not in the lounge,' Georgie called. 'I can't see him anywhere downstairs. Is he in there with you?'
'It's a tiny downstairs loo, Georgie, I think I'd know if he was in here with me,' I retorted, but quickly looked behind me, then down between my legs into the toilet bowl, just in case. Crikey, this was going to be a full flush, half a bottle of bleach and brush scrub job. 'Can you check the garden again? He might have gone for a tinkle behind a bush. You shouldn't miss him, he's got a bright red jumper on today.'
'Oh no, the balaclava one?' she giggled.
'That's the one!'
'Poor thing,' she tutted.
I nodded in agreement. He did look pretty funny in it, but it was for his own good. And it wasn't like he was the doggie lothario of Dilbury, needing to make himself presentable for the ladies. I'd just sorted myself out, bleached and cleaned the toilet and scrubbed my hands, when I heard Georgie screeching in the back garden.
'Abbie, Abbie, oh my God!'
'What is it?' I yelled, quickly drying my hands and trying to ignore the fact that my tummy was still cramping.
'Come quickly! He must have shot out of the gate when I came in. He's running up the field!'
'Sumo?!' I exclaimed. 'He doesn't walk, let alone run.'
'I know, but I swear it's him. I can see a red blur heading towards Lord Kirkland's estate.'
'Oh no,' I cried, flinging open the cloakroom door in a panic. He'd been obsessed with the ornamental pond on the front lawn of the stately home when he was a puppy and managed to escape the garden when I used to visit. He'd been caught a number of times pulling out the expensive koi carp and laying them on the grass as trophies. 'It's been about six years since he went there, why now?'
'I don't know, but we need to stop him,' Georgie urged. I nodded and grabbed the lead hanging up by the utility door, then slammed it shut behind me and started to run with Georgie down the garden. We dashed out of the gate, turned left, and chased him up the grass verge of the field. This wasn't doing my stomach pains any good at all. 'Jesus, I'm so unfit,' Georgie panted as we passed behind the village church.
'Don't slow down. If he makes it there before we do, it will be carnage,' I gasped, trying to suck in gulps of air. I couldn't believe how fast he was moving.
'I'm … so … sorry,' Georgie huffed as we hooked left and vaulted over the metal gate into the narrow track to the right of the Church. It led up past the walled garden where the staff tended to the Lord Kirkland's produce.
I just nodded, too breathless to say a word. Damn it, had Sumo suddenly grown bionic legs? He was still nowhere in sight. I was beginning to wonder if Georgie's imagination had run away with her. We reached the ornate side gate with the Kirkland family crest displayed proudly above it, set into the wall on our right. As they owned the church, they had direct access to it.
'Jesus,' I rasped. My throat was burning, I was hot and sweaty, and my stomach was roiling. I had visions of a whole Sumo shart situation if I bent over too quickly.
'Tell me … about it,' Georgie wheezed as we stepped through the gate onto the gravel path, flanked to the left by perfectly manicured lush deep emerald grass. The manor house was set below us, to our right, backing onto the same field our cottages did. Directly in front of us, running alongside the opposite garden wall, was the long drive that exited the garden, hooked left, and headed out through an avenue of large lime trees up to the main road. But right in the centre of the lawn was the circular pond, complete with carp, and I groaned as we tried to jog over. Georgie hadn't been wrong. The streak of red had been Sumo, and he was currently being wrestled out of the shallow water by none other than Lord Kirkland himself. 'Wow, talk about a stereotypical country gentleman,' Georgie observed as we approached.
He was dressed in tight black jeans, which showcased quite a peachy derrière, a fact that I noticed wasn't lost on Georgie. He had on long brown leather riding boots and a brown tweed jacket and flat cap. From what I remembered, he was quite a looker, only in his mid-thirties, and recently divorced. He managed to lift a soaking Sumo out of the water, cradling him against his chest as he turned around and spotted us approaching.
'Wow, dreamboat,' I murmured.
'Uh-huh,' Georgie nodded vehemently in agreement. He was so dashing, with a square cleft chin, strong jawline, and grey eyes that looked almost violet as the sun bounced off them. Dark hair, peppered with some grey streaks, was just visible under his cap as he tapped his fingers off the brim and gave us a movie star smile.
'Miss Carter, Miss Basset, it's been a while,' he greeted. 'I barely recognised this little chap, it's been so long. Mr. Hulk, was it?'
'Mr. Sumo,' I replied with a gulp, praying Sumo wasn't about to shit all over a real life Baron and ruin his obviously expensive attire. He was just staring up at Lord Kirkland while he panted, his wet tongue lolling from the side of his jaw. I grimaced as I saw him start to move his head from side to side, knowing exactly what was coming. 'Cover your face!' I cried.
'I beg your pardon?' Lord Kirkland enquired, far too politely, wasting valuable seconds as Georgie and I shielded ours instinctively just as Sumo ramped the head roll into a furious shake. I winced as I heard the gasp of surprise and could barely bring myself to look at how much slobber Sumo had just flicked all over him. I peeked out between my fingers, as mortified as he looked right now. He had doggie saliva all over his chiselled cheek, not to mention the cravat, waistcoat, and jacket he was sporting.
'Sumo,' I groaned. 'My God, I'm so, so sorry, Lord Kirkland. I don't know what's got into him. He's been on death's door for days, then suddenly today it was like he was a puppy all over again. He barely walks, let alone runs, and before we knew it, he was on his way here.'
'He's ill?' Lord Kirkland asked, as he whipped a cotton handkerchief from his top pocket and carefully wiped his face before dabbing his clothes.
'Terminal cancer,' Georgie confirmed. 'We don't think he has long.'
'Poor little chap. He must have wanted to revisit his youth one last time.'
'I'm so sorry. Please send me the dry cleaning bill and the cost for any replacement fish.' I reached my arms out to take Sumo off him, but he gave me a smile and shook his head.
'I spotted him squeezing through the gate as I was having a walk, so I was able to catch him before he did any damage. Well, to my fish anyway. The poor mite is soaked and shivering. Why don't we take him inside? I can ask Henderson, the groundsman who looks after my beagles, to come and take him for a shampoo and blow-dry while we get his … ermmm, outfit dried off.'