Undertaking Love

Chapter Twenty




A bright shard of dawn sunlight slanted through the blind and half-woke Melanie from her slumber. As she flipped over away from the window in protest she registered the unexpected smoothness of Egyptian cotton against her cheek. Her eyes snapped open as memories of the night before pieced themselves together like a macabre jigsaw in her head.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She’d killed Marla’s dog.

She winced in horror at the memory of that sickening thud. It was a miracle she hadn’t been injured herself; the dog had bounced hard enough against the front of the car to send him flying clear over the roof.

She shivered. It had all seemed like such a simple plan. Slip back to work, grab the note from her desk, and then hotfoot it out of there again. Nowhere in the plan had she accounted for the possibility of Gabe being at the funeral parlour, or even worse, of him being outside on his motorbike. He couldn’t see her there, he just couldn’t. She’d panicked and stamped down too hard on the accelerator. In her desperation to get away she hadn’t noticed the huge dog until he’d bolted out into the road right in front of her. He hadn’t stood a chance.

Oh God.

Would they call the police?

Would she lose her job?

It was all way too much to consider at just after five in the morning. Melanie picked up the metaphorical broom in her head and swept all the horrible thoughts into a dark, unvisited corner to revisit later. Or not at all, if she could get away with it. Decision made, she closed her eyes, turned over again, and settled back into the warm crook of Rupert’s naked shoulder.



Marla closed her eyes as her mobile trilled yet again. She’d avoided Rupert’s numerous calls and texts so far, because she couldn’t bear to hash over the events of the previous night or listen to his apologies for Bluey’s escape. It wasn’t that she was mad with him, exactly. She knew in her heart that it had been a horrible accident. Rupert hadn’t meant to be so utterly useless in a crisis, and his badly chosen words hadn’t been malicious or intended to hurt her.

She just felt incredibly let down. He hadn’t been the rock that she’d desperately needed last night. Which led her thoughts to Gabe, who had.

But then again, in Rupert’s defence, last night’s situation had played to Gabe’s strengths, so hadn’t it been all too easy for him to jump in and be her knight in shining armour? Her head ached with the pressure of trying to be judge and jury, of juggling the facts to make them fit the evidence.

She wasn’t stupid. She was well aware that there was no love lost between Gabe and Rupert. It was entirely possible that last night had been an exercise in posturing and one-upmanship that had nothing much to do with her at all. She cringed at the memory of how she’d thrown herself at Gabe, and was only too glad of the pop-psychology cover story he’d handily provided her with.

But now she had guilt and betrayal to add to the ever more confusing list of emotions she felt towards Rupert. What had started out as fun had turned into something far more intense than she’d bargained for, definitely on Rupert’s part at least. They’d muttered the L word last night, albeit in a lighthearted manner, and she’d felt a shiver of fear run down her backbone. Throwing herself at Gabe within a couple of hours of the declarations left her feeling distinctly shabby and disloyal, but the fact remained that she was in over her head.

She pushed it all to the back of her mind as she glanced out of the window to the private shady spot at the back of the chapel gardens beneath the oak tree. It had been one of Bluey’s favourite flop spots, and Gabe had already been across early this morning to prepare a permanent resting place there.

Once again she found herself glad of Gabe’s guidance to lead her in the right direction. He’d made a horrible situation bearable with his subtle strength, and she was aware that she owed him a debt of gratitude for the way he’d taken care of all of the practicalities. It comforted her to know that her fur-boy couldn’t be in safer hands. Bluey had been so much more than a pet to Marla. People had come and gone in her life over the years; her gentle giant had been her only constant, her faithful friend, guardian of her secrets.

She glanced up at the clock. Almost five. Soon Gabe would be closing up for the day and would head over to bury her best friend.



Gabe and Jonny lowered Bluey’s simple pine casket into the sun-warmed earth, then stepped back for a few seconds of reverential silence. Pale blue ribbons fluttered around Marla and Emily’s wrists as they stood arm in arm next to the grave.

Tears tracked down Marla’s cheeks as she bent to place Bluey’s favourite, dog-eared chew toy on top of his casket.

‘Bye, Bluey,’ she whispered.

Words failed her. She wanted to say something perfect, but her heart felt too heavy, her throat too constricted.

Emily held out a hand to help her back up again, and kept a tight hold of it as Gabe stepped forward.

‘A man far more eloquent than I am wrote a few special words about his dog. Maybe now would be a good time to hear them?’

Marla nodded at him with gratitude. She couldn’t find the words to express how losing Bluey so cruelly had shattered her heart. He’d been such a huge physical presence in any room, utterly unwieldy and impractical in her small cottage with his gangly legs and huge head. He’d been forever knocking things over with his eagerly wagging tail, but if it had come down to a straight choice between moving house or losing Bluey, she’d have called the estate agents without a moment’s hesitation. And now he’d gone, and Marla had never felt so alone in her life.

Gabe waited as the nearby church bell rang out six solemn times, then cleared his throat.



Near this Spot are deposited the

Remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity,

Strength without insolence,

Courage without ferocity,

And all the virtues of Man without his Vices.



Marla sighed. In a million years, she couldn’t have found more appropriate words. ‘Thank you, Gabe. That was perfect.’

Gabe nodded. ‘Byron was obviously a dog lover.’ He reached for the spade that rested against a near by tree trunk. ‘Go inside, Marla. You don’t need to see this.’