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

Chapter 13

13

STANLEY

Foxglove Street, where Grace lives, is a truly wonderful place. The street is very long, which makes for a perfect evening stroll, and most of the people who live there take great care of their front gardens, which means there are plenty of shrubs and trees and fence posts and gates to be sniffed. I detected the scents of the dogs and cats who lived on the street, as well as the foxes who roam the area after dark, their odours like multi-coloured chemtrails lighting up the street from one end to the other.

Grace seemed impressed when I knew we had returned to her house, but her home was etched on my brain from the first moment I saw her standing outside on the street. There is safety there inside that house with Grace, and that is valuable to me.

And yet Grace made a good point about it being odd how I could remember where her house is located, and yet I was a stray seemingly lost from my own home. I wished I could explain to her about how I’d lost my memory. Still, even if I was able to do that, I doubted Grace could do much to solve the problem.

If you’ve lost your memory, how do you get it back? I didn’t know the answer to that question.

But that night, those concerns didn’t trouble me. My stomach was full thanks to Miriam’s wonderful beef casserole, I’d just enjoyed a fun and scent-filled stroll along Foxglove Street, and once we were comfortable back at Grace’s house, I was treated to a late night gravy bone.

I was stuffed after eating so much already, but managed to snaffle it down. Gravy bones are too good to refuse.

We got cosy together in the living room, Grace on the sofa and me on my new bed. She worked on her laptop for a while, her gaze focused and intense, and I knew she was thinking about this promotion business she discussed with Ryan on the way home. It means a great deal to her and from the red hints along the edge of her aura, I could tell she was nervous about the conversation scheduled the next day with her manager.

I could tell, too, that her mind was racing with thoughts and questions and plans.

It was racing so fast, in fact, that I started to worry about her and whether she’d be able to sleep with so much going inside her head.

Scampering over from my bed, I nuzzled against Grace’s leg to offer comfort and reassurance, hoping it would calm her thoughts. She looked up from her computer and smiled and said it was probably time for bed.

She got no argument from me on that score.