Lost and Found on Foxglove Street (The Foxglove Street #9)

Chapter 5

5

Grace woke the following morning to discover she wasn’t alone in bed.

A scruffy, furry face looked back at her from the pillow opposite. At some point during the night, Stanley had made himself comfortable on the other side of the double bed.

When he’d followed her upstairs last night, Grace hadn’t had the heart to send him back down to the living room to sleep alone. The dog had remained tucked up at her feet all evening while she worked, seeming to take comfort from being close to her, and she saw no harm in allowing him to sleep in her bedroom. It would only be for one night, after all, because she was sure she’d find his owner once he’d had his microchip scanned.

Stanley had sniffed around the bedroom and the smaller spare guest room before lingering in the hallway while Grace brushed her teeth in the bathroom. She’d arranged an old blanket on the floor beside her chest of drawers, and Stanley had appeared happy with the little nest she’d created for him. When she’d turned out the light, he’d been snoozing peacefully.

Now, though, he was stretched out in bed beside her, his head on the pillow and his body snuggled beneath the duvet. He panted and smiled, before scrambling closer and licking her face.

“Eww! Don’t do that, Stanley,” she told the dog, pushing him away. “Your breath is so bad I can hardly breathe.”

He panted a few more times before getting up on his feet and stretching and then jumping down off the bed. Grace saw the stray hairs he’d left behind all over on the duvet cover, as well as the evidence of dog drool on the pillow case. With an amused sigh, she made a mental note to change the bedding before she got back into bed at the end of the day.

Climbing out of bed, she followed Stanley downstairs and let him outside. The dog hurried to the lawn to do his business and then performed a perimeter check around the garden, taking a hard look at the spot near the fence where he’d traded barks with Elsa the evening before. Satisfied that there were no interlopers or canine threats that needed to be vanquished, he trotted back inside and waited beside his bowl with a look of expectation on his face.

“Coffee first, Stanley,” Grace said, filling the kettle. “If I’m expected to open another tray of that smelly dog food, not to mention facing the challenge of picking up your disgusting poo from the garden, then believe me, I’ll need my coffee first.”

With an eye on the time, Grace tackled the morning and the canine chores that came with it. On those days when her shift didn’t start until later, she would normally use the time to deal with household tasks, or squeeze in a quick jog, or some extra study. But with Stanley to attend to and take to the vet to be scanned in hopes of finding his owner, she accepted that her morning wasn’t likely to be productive.

She was glad to know she wouldn’t have to deal with the Stanley situation all by herself, and was grateful that the neighbour she’d met yesterday from Riverside Road, Ryan, had volunteered to lend a hand. The best-case scenario was that when Stanley was scanned at the vet’s, his owner’s details would pop up and he’d be reunited with those he belonged to. But if there were complications, Grace was relieved that Ryan would be there to help resolve them.

Her shift at work started at eleven, and getting there on time was non-negotiable. In Grace’s life, work was her number one priority, always.

At just before nine o’clock, Grace sent a text message to Ryan, keen to get the ball rolling on returning Stanley to those who loved him. She briefly wondered if he might back out of the commitment he’d made to accompany her to the vet’s surgery, considering it wasn’t really his problem. But after exchanging hellos and confirming their plan, Ryan agreed to come to her house on Foxglove Street so they could drive together to the vet’s practice that Olive had recommended last night.

When the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, Grace had Stanley’s lead attached to his collar and was ready to go.

“Morning, Grace,” Ryan said, smiling on the doorstep before leaning down to ruffle Stanley’s ears as the little dog darted out to greet him. “Morning to you too, Stanley. It looks like you’ve had a wash since I last saw you. Good for you.”

“He needed it. I think he enjoyed it, too. It can’t have been nice putting up with all that dirt and dust in his fur.” Grace locked the door and started down the path. “Thanks for coming along with me, Ryan. I appreciate it.”

“Happy to help. If things take longer than we hope in finding out how to get Stanley back to where he belongs, then you don’t want to risk being late for work.”

“I didn’t even think to ask if you have work commitments today. I hope this isn’t putting you out?”

Ryan shook his head. “I’m taking some time off at the moment, so it’s no bother.”

They’d reached Grace’s car. She’d volunteered to do the driving, partly because it only seemed fair considering she’d roped this unsuspecting stranger into helping with the Stanley situation, and also because she couldn’t risk being stranded without a vehicle once it was time to drive to the hotel for her shift starting. Anticipating that the visit to the vet’s practice might leave her cutting things a little fine, she’d brought her bag with a change of work clothes.

When Stanley had launched himself into her arms yesterday when she first encountered him on the street, he’d covered her work shirt with his grubby hair. The dog might be nice and clean now, but she’d opted for jeans and a t-shirt this morning to avoid having to turn up at work with dog hair and drool all over the smart shirt and trousers she wore in her assistant manager’s role.

Grace was unlocking the car when it occurred to her that she had no idea what was the best way to transport Stanley inside the vehicle.

“I think I’ll have to detach the lid in the boot of the car before we put Stanley in there,” Grace said, reaching for the toggles that connected the lid flap to the hatch door.

“Don’t worry about doing that,” Ryan said. “I’ll hold him. It’s only a few minutes’ drive to the vet’s surgery, and I’m sure he’ll be fine on my lap until we get there.”

Grace watched in amusement as Ryan lifted the excitable dog into his arms and got into the front passenger seat. Once they were settled, Stanley caused no fuss and seemed happy enough peering out the window as they got moving.

As she drove along Foxglove Street, Grace suddenly realised how bizarre it was to be sitting in her car next to this man she didn’t know, this total stranger she’d only met for a few minutes last night.

It was probably too late to check he wasn’t an axe murderer. Judging by the gentle way he was holding Stanley in his arms and helping the little dog get a better view out of the window, she thought it was probably unlikely he was a deranged serial killer. Still, it couldn’t hurt to find out a few more details about him just to be on the safe side.

“So, Ryan, I think you mentioned you were taking some time off work right now,” she said. “What is it you do?”

“I’m a musician,” he replied. “Well, I’m a songwriter and composer, to be exact.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting.” She hadn’t expected this sort of creative and unusual response. “What sort of songs do you write?”

“Contemporary pop music mostly, although lately I’ve worked on some film scores, too.”

“Wow.” Grace was impressed. “Anything I might have heard of?”

She listened as he rattled off some recent releases from several big name pop stars.

“You wrote those songs?” she said, even more impressed.

“Co-wrote them. I collaborate with several people, a team of musicians and lyricists, depending on the artist we’re writing for and the mood and vibe we want to achieve. Same with the film scores. I’m new to that particular type of composition, and I’m only a contributor at the moment, with a lead composer taking charge of the direction we’re going in.”

“You must enjoy it? It sounds like fascinating work.”

“I’m very lucky.” Ryan gave her a smile, then said, “What about you? What do you do?”

Grace explained about her assistant manager role at the Hamblehurst Manor Hotel, to which Ryan responded with raised eyebrows.

“That’s quite a place. I’ve been there once or twice to meet clients or colleagues who were in the area and wanted to discuss projects over drinks. It’s beautiful there.”

“It is. And it takes a big team to keep it that way and make sure everything runs smoothly. There’s always something new to learn.”

“Same with me. There’s no standing still in the music business. New technologies, changing tastes and styles, evolving market demands… nothing stays the same.”

Ryan had an easy way about him as he spoke. Chatting with him felt comfortable and relaxed, and Grace was enjoying it.

“When we bumped into each other yesterday, you said you were going out to the cinema,” Grace said. “Was the film you saw any good?”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Ryan laughed, and named the film.

Grace hadn’t heard of it. She didn’t have time for trips to the cinema.

“My grandma was the one who wanted to see it,” Ryan added. “And although big noisy action films aren’t really my thing, I was happy to go along and keep her company.”

“That’s a nice thing to do, taking your grandma to the cinema,” Grace said, oddly touched by the idea. “You must be close?”

“We are. She’s had some tough health challenges lately and…” His voice trailed off, the warmth and humour in his tone replaced by something more troubled. “Well, she deserves to have some fun. If her idea of fun is watching a middle-aged has-been action hero glowering and grimacing while racing around and fighting to save the world from total destruction, then who am I to argue?”

Grace smiled, happy that his lighter tone had returned. She wondered what was wrong with his grandmother and the challenges he said she’d faced.

“Is your grandmother better now?”

The expression that crossed his face was a mixture of hope and fear. “We think so. Fingers crossed.”

Grace would have asked further after his grandmother’s health, because it was obvious even from their brief conversation that the woman was very special to him, but they’d reached the road where the vet’s practice was located. Turning into the small car park, Grace found a free space and switched off the engine.

Grace followed Ryan into the vet’s surgery, which was located in a neat and well-kept building set back from the road and framed by mature trees on either side. The moment they stepped into the reception area, Stanley froze. His eyes darted towards the waiting area where dogs sat with their owners, some animals looking more anxious than others. A separate waiting area on the other side of the reception space was dedicated to cats, a number of whom peered out of their carriers in disgust at the dogs sitting across the room.

“Come on then, Stanley,” Ryan said to the dog, tugging gently on the lead. “Nothing bad will happen here, I promise.”

Stanley didn’t look convinced, and it took a few more tugs on his lead before he reluctantly followed Grace and Ryan to the reception counter. The cheerful receptionist behind the desk smiled in greeting.

“Hello, there,” she said. “How can I help?”

“We found this little dog yesterday, wandering on the street where I live,” Grace explained. “We think he’s a stray.”

“Oh dear, that’s a shame,” said the receptionist, peering over the reception counter to where Stanley was darting around on the floor, looking unhappy.

“He didn’t have a collar and there was no one around who seemed to be looking for him,” Grace went on. “I wasn’t sure what to do, and it was a bit late in the evening, so I looked after him last night. My friend here,”—she gestured to Ryan—“said we should probably take him to a vet to see if he could be scanned for a microchip that might tell us who his owners are.”

“That’s right,” the receptionist nodded. “You did the right thing bringing him here. And well done for looking after the poor little guy last night. Not everyone would do that.”

“We weren’t about to leave him to wander off on his own when it was obvious he seemed lost,” Grace said. “He’s a sweet little guy and I’m sure there must be someone out there who’s desperate to get him back.”

“Let’s hope so,” the receptionist said, a little cryptically. She tapped at her computer screen for a minute. “One of our vets, Joe Whitaker, has a free slot in his diary right now, so I’ll just go and have a quick word with him and explain what’s happened, and hopefully we can get Stanley scanned straight away and see what’s what.”

Grace remembered that Olive had mentioned this particular vet last night when she’d recommended the practice.

The receptionist hurried off and returned a few moments later, waving them off in the direction from which she’d just walked.

“Mr Whitaker’s consulting room is just down there, the last door on the left,” she said. “He’ll see you right away.”

Grace thanked the receptionist and followed her directions. Stanley didn’t look happy to be venturing even further into the veterinary surgery building, and planted his feet on the ground in an effort to remain where he was. The smooth vinyl flooring meant it would’ve been easy enough for Ryan to haul the dog along behind him, but she was glad when he instead paused at the sight of the cowering animal and said a few words of encouragement to him before scooping him up into his arms.

“I don’t think he likes it here,” Ryan said as Stanley panted in his arms, his eyes darting everywhere.

“It’s funny how they sense where they are and decide they don’t like it,” Grace said. She’d noticed many of the other animals in the reception area didn’t look too pleased to be there either, perhaps dreading a visit to the vet the same way humans dreaded a visit to the dentist.

She was worried about whether Stanley might become hard to handle now that he was in this apparently terrifying situation, but as soon as they arrived inside the vet’s consulting room and Stanley saw the smiling man who was waiting there to greet them, the little dog’s cheerful disposition returned.

“Good morning,” said the vet. “I’m Joe Whitaker. My receptionist said you’ve got a stray dog on your hands? Let’s have a look at him.”

While Ryan deposited Stanley on the examination table, and Stanley attempted to lick the vet to death, Grace explained the circumstances about how she’d come to have the dog in her care.

“The council has an out-of-hours service you could have called last night,” Joe explained as he examined the dog. “But they only collect stray dogs during regular business hours, so unless you’d wanted to drive him to the boarding kennels the council use to look after their strays, then you would’ve been stuck with him overnight, anyway. Did you have any trouble looking after him?”

“None,” Grace said. “He’s a cute little guy. I gave him a bath because he obviously needed it, and a neighbour popped round with some dog food to tide him over. I’ve never owned a dog before, so I was a bit clueless.”

Joe smiled as he listened to the dog’s chest with a stethoscope and completed the rest of his basic checks. “He seems to be in good health overall, from what I can see, although he is underweight, as you already noticed, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been straying for a week or possibly longer.”

Setting aside his stethoscope, Joe lifted a handheld digital device from the counter and switched it on. Stanley cocked his head at the beeping noises the device made and gave it a good sniff.

“This is a microchip scanner,” he explained. “If the dog has a chip beneath his skin, this should find it.”

Joe slowly moved the device across Stanley’s body. After a few moments, he frowned and adjusted the settings on the device before going through the process again.

“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Joe said at length. “I don’t think this little guy has been microchipped.”

“I thought it was the law for all dogs to have a chip?” Ryan asked.

Joe nodded. “It is, but that doesn’t mean everyone complies with it.”

“So, what does that mean for Stanley?” Grace asked.

Joe’s lips quirked at her use of the name they’d given him. “Well, it means the local dog warden service will probably find it hard to locate his owner. Of course, it’s entirely possible that his owner has already been in touch with the warden’s service and explained that the dog is missing and given a description. So, the next step is to phone the dog warden, explain you’ve found this dog and that you’ve brought him here to be scanned, but without success. They’ll then arrange to pick him up and take things from there.”

Grace looked at Stanley, who was now back down on the floor and sitting at her feet, peering up hopefully and wagging his tail.

“Here’s the number for the dog warden,” Joe said, handing her a card with the details printed on it.

The dog warden was based quite some distance away, Grace noted from the address information. Glancing at the time, she only hoped the warden could get here soon, so she could get off to work.

“I’m glad you were able to look after the dog overnight,” Joe said as they turned to leave the consulting room. “It was good of you to take pity on him.”

“We couldn’t have left him wandering on his own, could we?” Grace said, glancing at Ryan, who nodded his agreement.

“And we’re grateful you could squeeze us in to check the little guy over,” Ryan said. “Shall we pay at the reception counter for the appointment slot?”

Joe waved this off. “Obviously, there’s no charge.”

“Thank you,” Grace said. “My neighbour, Olive, said you were a good vet and that you’d look after us.”

His eyebrows wiggled at this. “Olive? Do you mean Olive Nimmo?”

Grace nodded. “She said you used to live on Foxglove Street. I live there too.”

“Olive’s quite a character,” Joe said with a grin.

“Actually, I only met her for the first time last night.” Grace summarised the circumstances of how they’d met. “It was really kind of her to help me and to bring some dog food for Stanley.”

“She’s a wonderful lady, for sure.” Joe’s gaze softened as he looked back at the dog. “Listen, I’m sure it will all go fine when you call up the dog warden service, but I should give you fair warning that they’re under a lot of pressure over there and are horribly understaffed. Don’t be surprised if they can’t collect the dog immediately. It might take them a few hours, at least, to get to you.”

That was what Grace had feared. Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts, because Joe quickly spoke again.

“The dog warden service will probably explain this to you when you ring them up,” he said. “But if you don’t want to be stuck with this little chap for too long, then you could choose to drive over to the boarding kennels and drop him off yourself. I doubt the warden will mind the helping hand, and if there are any issues, you can just give them our contact details here at the surgery and I’ll be happy to vouch for the fact that you came in here to have him checked over and scanned already. That might speed things along.”

“Thank you. Where did you say the boarding kennels are?”

Joe gave the address, which was much closer to Hamblehurst than the dog warden service.

“If we drive over there now,” Grace said to Ryan, “we could drop him off, deal with any paperwork, and I should hopefully make it to work on time.”

“Then let’s do that,” Ryan agreed.

“You’ll still have to speak to the dog warden service directly before you go to the boarding kennels, though,” Joe advised. “Strays need to be logged on the system and recorded with the warden before they’re handed over to the care of the boarding kennel staff. But as I said, if you have problems, I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks again, I appreciate it,” Grace said.

Back out in the reception area, Grace pulled a handful of coins from her purse and dropped them into the animal sanctuary charity tin that she’d noticed on the counter when they’d first arrived. She hadn’t really expected the vet to charge for checking over a stray dog that didn’t belong to her, but Joe Whitaker had been kind and helpful with his advice, so the least she could do was make a small donation to the animal charity supported by the practice.

She smiled when she saw Ryan also slipping a handful of coins into the charity tin, too.

They left the surgery and let Stanley detour to the grassy verge beside the car park for a sniff. Grace pulled out her phone and dialled the number for the dog warden service. The phone rang and rang for a long time before it was answered.

“Dog warden,” barked out a harassed voice on the other end.

“Um, hello, I’m calling about a stray dog…”

Grace relayed the story yet again about how she’d ended up with Stanley in her care. She’d barely got to the end of the explanation when the man on the phone interrupted.

“It’ll be three or four o’clock this afternoon at the earliest before I can get someone out to pick up the dog.”

“Yes, the vet I just spoke to said that might be the case. He said I could take the dog directly to the boarding kennels you use?”

“If it suits you, that’s probably the best option. I’ll need to take down some details first for our paperwork. The kennels we use are a private business that we have a contract with, and they’ll need information and authorisation from us before they’ll accept a stray directly from the public.”

While Grace answered the dog warden’s questions, she watched Stanley scampering around on the grassy verge, gleefully chasing after a crow that landed not far from where he was roaming and wagging his tail in delight when the bird lifted off into the sky with a grumpy croak. As the bird flapped up towards the tree branches above, Stanley turned to Ryan and grinned, his tongue lolling as he panted.

Grace knew it was silly to think that the dog was grinning . But there was just something about the scruffy terrier’s little face that made it impossible not to imagine him as doing just that—grinning in victory and delighting in having defeated the avian foe who had dared to wander into the grassy patch he was exploring.

After several minutes of answering the dog warden’s questions, the harassed man on the other end of the line confirmed he’d notify the boarding kennel that she was authorised to drop off the stray dog.

“What will happen to the dog next?” Grace asked.

“Well, whoever owns him has got seven days to claim him,” the warden explained. “As the vet you consulted can’t find a microchip on the animal, it means we don’t have much to go on. Once the dog is fully logged in our system here, we’ll get the boarding kennel staff to take a photo of him and send it to us, which we can use to check against any reports we’ve received lately about missing dogs. However, from the description you’ve given of him, he doesn’t sound like a match to any of our current open cases.”

“That’s a pity. I was hoping there was someone out there desperate to find him.”

“There might be. But if there is, I don’t think we know about them at the moment.”

“So, what happens if no one claims him?”

“Once the seven days are up, assuming there are no issues with the dog’s health and assuming it isn’t aggressive or has behavioural problems, then we contact the local rescue centres to see if they can take on the animal and find it a new home. That’s when the juggling act begins, because most of the centres are already full. But as far as your stray is concerned, that’s a problem for next week, not right now, so we won’t worry about that just yet.”

“Hopefully there’s an owner out there who’ll come forward in the next seven days.”

“Hmm. Listen, love, unless you’ve got any other questions, I need to get off the phone. We’ve got nearly a dozen stray dog calls to deal with today, and we’re run off our feet.”

“Of course. Thanks for all your help.”

The warden uttered a quick goodbye and hung up before Grace could say anything else.

“So, are we okay to drive over to the boarding kennels and drop Stanley off there?” Ryan asked.

Grace nodded. “The warden said he’d phone ahead and let them know we were coming.”

She glanced towards Stanley, who was scurrying around the shrubs on the far side of the grassy verge and enjoying a good sniff. It struck her suddenly that she’d miss the little creature once he was gone. She might only have known him for twelve hours, but his sweet canine charms had given her a soft spot for the dog.

“Shall I come with you?” Ryan said, his eyes scanning her face and no doubt noticing the way she was looking at Stanley. “Just in case there are any problems?”

“If you’re sure you’ve got time?”

“Absolutely.”

Grace smiled, grateful for his company. Foolish though she knew it was, saying goodbye to Stanley wasn’t going to be easy, and she was glad to have Ryan with her for a little moral support.