Georgia has been catching her twice a day, before and after school, but she hasn’t ridden her again yet. I’ve said that I’ll walk with her sometime, like Guy did. Guy? My pulse thrills each time I think of him, which, I have to confess, is unsuitably often. Tomorrow night he’s taking me out for dinner, and I can hardly wait. I leave Lucky behind because, although we’ve tried taking him in the car again, he barks all the way to school and back, leaving your ears with that painful thrumming sound that you get after a rock concert. Not that I’ve been to any recently. When we get back home, it seems that Lucky’s taken umbrage because he doesn’t come running out to greet us. In fact, I can’t hear him at all. ‘Lucky,’ Adam calls. ‘Where’s the dog?’ He turns to me. ‘I expect he’s run away,’ I say, but I don’t believe it for one minute. He’s got his paws well under the table. I watch Adam’s face, his anxious frown. ‘Lucky won’t be far away, love.’ We go inside, Adam, Georgia and Sophie dropping their schoolbags and leaving their shoes in a heap in the hallway.
