The Mermaid Garden(131)

Clementine had wanted to tell Joe about Biscuit, but she couldn’t trust herself not to give away the growing feelings she had for Rafa. The two were intertwined: Biscuit was the excuse that would throw them together, and she couldn’t think of the dog without recalling Rafa’s heroism. So, she had made up a story about helping her father with his boat and falling into the sea, which is why she was in his dressing gown with her wet clothes in a plastic bag.

Joe had bought it, because he had wanted to buy it. If he suspected she was lying, he hadn’t let it show. He had put his big arms around her, and if he had felt her body stiffen, he had ignored it.

She had spent a long time in the bath, recalling every moment of the rescue—the way Rafa had swum so bravely, the way he had encouraged her so confidently, the way he had cared so deeply for the endangered animal. He had touched her heart, and she had flung wide the door and let him in. Only, he didn’t know that he was in.

So, why didn’t she just end it with Joe? She had asked herself that question many times, and always got the same answer: but then she’d have no one.

In the morning love had awoken her early. She had left Joe asleep, spread-eagled in the bed, but she was too wound up to feel any regret. Her belly was full of tingling nerves like the mad crawling of a whole nest of ants. She wasn’t hungry, but she stopped at the Black Bean Coffee Shop anyway, to feel close to Rafa even though he wasn’t there. When she had received his voice mail, her stomach had lurched with excitement. The thought of their afternoon outing to the pet shop had propelled her through her day.

She had sat at her desk dreamily, half listening to Sylvia whingeing on about Freddie and whether or not he’d ever leave his wife, half replaying the rescue over and over again. She glowed with the infectious light of love, and every man who came into the office sensed it and was drawn to it, leaving with a little sprinkle on his shoulders and a spring in his step. Mr. Atwood lingered as much as possible, hovering around her desk like a mosquito. Clementine barely noticed him.

Joe telephoned, but Clementine managed to avoid his calls. Sylvia glanced at her suspiciously, wondering why she was too busy to speak to him. But when Rafa appeared at five thirty P.M. with Biscuit, she realized why: The girl was in love—but not with Joe. She felt the air vibrate between Clementine and Rafa like a whole orchestra of violins, and couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy. Why didn’t Big Love ever happen to her?

Clementine cuddled the dog affectionately, recounting to Sylvia how they had saved him from drowning. Rafa rejoined that if he ever found the person who had tied him up in that cave, he’d personally beat him to a pulp. Clementine looked on proudly as Sylvia’s admiration glowed on her face. He was not only handsome, but heroic, too. Biscuit had recovered from the shock of his near-death experience, as only a dog can. He wagged his tail and panted, pushing his nose under Clementine’s hand whenever she got distracted and paused her stroking. He was clearly happy with his new owners.

Sylvia watched them all leave. She had read about another robbery in the Gazette. A small one, this time, at the private home of Edward and Anya Powell, who happened to be great friends of Grey and Marina. The only thing taken was an enormous diamond engagement ring Anya always put in an ashtray on the kitchen windowsill when she was washing up. The only proof that it was stolen at all and not mislaid was the note saying “Thank you” in the unmistakable hand of Baffles, the gentleman thief. The journalist reporting said there was a chance that it was a spoof, a copycat burglary, for why would Baffles bother to break in for one small piece of jewelry, unless he was getting a buzz out of once again slipping through the net?

Clementine and Rafa went straight to the pet shop. They filled a trolley with dog food, biscuits, and toys. Rafa pulled treats off the shelves and took them out onto the pavement for Biscuit to sniff. Clementine watched, amused, while Rafa was certain the dog had the ability to choose from the packet what he liked best. She realized she hadn’t ever had such fun. Sure, people made her laugh, but never with such abandon. Most of all she felt she was fun to be with. Rafa brought out the best in her, and she liked who she was when she was with him.

They stuffed Rafa’s boot with their goods, then drove to Salcombe to give Biscuit a run. It didn’t seem right to take him to the beach where they had first heard him cry for help, so they took him to a pebble beach nearby and let him off the lead to explore freely. They wandered up and down, chatting contentedly, then found a pub nearby and sat outside in the fading sunlight to enjoy a light dinner. Clementine didn’t feel the need to drink copious amounts of alcohol. She no longer felt the desire to lose herself.