THE BRIDE
Claire watched as her fiancé, his face twisted with spite, kicked Molly, the little dachshund whod accidentally stepped her muddy paw onto his pristine white trainers. Bullet, the scruffy mongrel, tried to stand up for her smaller friend, only to be dealt a sharp smack across the muzzle with a heavy leather lead. Now Claire understood exactly why her cats and dogs always shied away from Thomas.
She sat by the window, lost in swirling thoughts. Outside, a wintry dusk painted the old London terraces golden as lamps flickered on, but Claire cared little for light or shade these days. She had a lot to ponder.
On paper, she had everythinga flat in a pleasant part of the city, a rewarding job as a paramedic, and a lifestyle many envied. But shed had no luck in her own hearts affairs. Time ticked on mercilessly, school friends all long since married with children, and she was forever alone.
Would she, a smart and pleasant young woman, be destined to live her days as a lonely spinster? Why was her luck so different? Claire looked at her soft, nosy pets, crowding about her, pressing their comforting fur against her legs. Their sympathy did little to ease the ache.
Claires parents died young, within a year of each other. She was left in the loving care of her grandmother, resolving to become a medic. Straight from school, shed tried for medical school but failed the stiff competition, so she enrolled in the local college for paramedics instead. She now worked back-to-back shifts for the ambulance service.
Her adoring granny had long since moved to her own cottage in a Kent village, hoping to give her only granddaughter freedom for romancea hope that so far remained unfulfilled.
As a child, Claire had begged for a cat or a dog, but her mothers dogged allergy to fur made it impossible. That became painfully clear the day Claire, bright-eyed with joy, brought home a stray ginger kitten. Her mum suffered an asthma attack and the kitten, christened Biscuit, was promptly dispatched to Grannys.
Later, after losing her parents, Claire found another waif, a wide-eyed tabby she called Monty, lurking by the bins at the back of the estate. She nursed him and longed for a dog to love but Grandma was wary, fearful of the burden.
Now, instead of a romantic companion, Claire found herself surrounded by five loyal, loving animals. Bullet the mongrel had been discovered, half-frozen and covered in fleas, outside a supermarket in the sleet. The poor pup tried to dart inside for warmth, but the security guards would shoo him out into the icy night. Claire crammed him into her bag and hurried him home.
Quick-witted and bursting with energy, Bullets dashes around the flat quickly earned her that nickname. She bonded instantly with Monty.
But Claires animal family didnt end there. Not long after came Molly, a dachshund left outside by previous owners who moved out, abandoning her in the dead of winter. The clever, gnarled little sausage spent days moaning by the old house, sobbing and pacing the pavement, desperately seeking a doorway until Claire, tipped off by the local dog walkers, brought her home.
Claire nursed Mollys frozen ears and wrapped her in a woollen headscarf for every chilly walk. Molly wore it happily, waddling like a determined little granny, earning fond chuckles from passersby.
The cat Miss Foxton arrived of her own accord. One dawn, hurrying off to a long shift, Claire stepped outside and almost tripped over a shivering ball of fur, howling at her feet. She hurried the cat up to the radiator in the hallway, offered ham-and-cheese sandwiches, and stuck a note on the wall: Please dont throw the cat out! Ill collect her after my shiftClaire, Flat 3B.
At home, she gave her new charge the name Miss Foxtonher own mothers maiden namea proper, dignified title to which the cat responded at once. Miss Foxton was statuesque and stern, a cat with presence and all the manners of a retired schoolmistress. She established her own regime for the household, enforcing cleanliness with severity, patrolling her domain throughout the night, always on the lookout for lapses.
Last to join was Teddy, a bashful kitten found by Claire in the park, nearly pecked to death by crows. Even now, grown into a hefty tom, he remained the meekest soul: he never argued, never scratched, never disagreed. All five rescued creatures lived in rare harmony, forever striving not to disappoint their mistress.
Claire adored her tribe of tails and whiskers, though she knew well that not all would-be boyfriends took kindly to such a parliament. Granny always warned her: Oh Claire, love, two dogs and three cats! Its a menagerie, not a home. Young men nowadays, they want sleek, simple lives; not everyone loves animals the way you do, my girl.
Well, then he isnt my man, is he, Granny?
So it always went. Claires first love, Peter, appeared when she started working. For six months, they dated, but he had no patience with indoor animals and left without much ado. Claire shed few tears.
Then Thomas entered her life. Outgoing and dashing, with medals from local swimming meets, he sparkled in social settings, offered her delectable dinners, even took the dogs for walks at first. A wedding seemed near.
But soon, to Claires growing distress, her pets began to avoid Thomas. Bullet outright grumbled at him, Molly hid behind Claire and barked, and the cats never came closeMiss Foxton hissed if he so much as glanced at her.
Then came the day in question, the day the shadow shifted. From her kitchen balcony, Claire witnessed Thomas, face contorted in anger, lashing out at Molly for soiling his shoes. Bullet tried to stand up for Molly, only to earn a savage whack from the heavy lead.
Fury burning, Claire dashed outside, took the leads from her still-smiling fiancé, and delivered a stinging slap to his hands.
Ow, Claire, whats gotten into you?
Now she knew why her pets all hated him. Does it hurt, Thomas? As much as you hurt them? Would you strike me as well, if I annoyed you?
Oh, for heavens sake, just teaching them a lesson not to trample my feet.
Get out. Dont ever come back.
Fine! Thomas sneered. Enjoy your ruddy zoo. Freeloader breeders, the whole lot of you!
The venom of that breakup poisoned her soul for weeks. Shed gotten used to thinking Thomas was her destiny, but she realized now shed never truly seen behind his mask of charm.
A year limped by, and just as loneliness seemed final and complete, she fell in lovesuddenly, deeply. The loss of a day away from the new man felt like a lifetime.
It happened by chance. Alexander, a trauma consultant, was on duty the night Claire brought an RTA victim to A&E. When he looked up from his notes and his eyes met hers, a jolt of electricity shot through her. Shed never believed in love at first sight; that was the stuff of novels and old films. Now, she was living it.
Through hospital grapevine, Alexander contrived to get her number and called her the next evening. They began to see each other.
From his measured, gentle manner, Claire sensed his seriousness. It made her happy but oddly terrified. What if it all came crashing down again? She decided to conceal her animal menagerie until after marriagewhat harm could a little white lie do?
Six months passed. Alexander introduced Claire to his sister Lucy and her husband. Together, they drove to Sussex to meet his parents. Claire introduced him to her granny.
Shed visited his bachelors flat often (spotless, if a little spare), but never invited him to her own, making excuses about flu-ridden houseguests and relatives. The charade couldnt last. Claire had to choose: confess the truth or carry on deceiving.
She wavered, but finally, before his next visit, she gathered all her pets and their important bits and delivered them to Grannys house. Bullet and Molly had stayed there before, and the cats adored the countryside. Granny protested: Claire, you cant begin this with a lie, not with a decent man like Alexander!
Oh, Granny, hell leave me if he finds out, but I cant live without them either. I have no other way.
Very well. But visit them every day youre not working. I cant see this ending well, my love.
Day after day, Claire trekked to Grannys, missing her furry brood. Meanwhile, Alexanders suspicions faded, and he proposed with a heart-shaped amethyst ring.
I warn youmy dowrys not worth much, she joked, dizzy with happiness.
They filed the papers; the wedding approached, and the rush consumed them both. Claire made endless lists, juggling fittings, menus, jewelers and seating plans. That afternoon, they finally made it to her flat after shopping, desperate for a breather. Idly, Alexander went to bin a snack wrapper, only to find the bin overflowing with empty packets of dog and cat food.
Where did all this come from?
Oh, just ignore it, darlinglets finish the guest list.
She deftly switched the topic.
Elsewhere, Granny released Bullet and Molly for a romp in the snowy garden, just as the postie arrived with her pension. In the fluster of collecting letters, the gate and front door were left ajar. Miss Foxton, Monty, and Teddy slipped outonly Biscuit, the oldest cat, stayed behind. The group paused in a circle outside, then, in a straggly parade, set off briskly towards Claires flat. Bullet led, nose to the wind, Miss Foxton bringing up the rear, head high and tail like a judges gavel.
Passersby stared in curious delight, especially as little Mollys scarf slipped sideways as she trotted, looking like an elderly librarian in the wind.
Alexander heard the scratching at the doora chorus of yips and meowsand opened it to find an entire animal brigade, snowy and triumphant, filing into the hallway in high spirits.
Well, what on earth is this?
Claire dashed out and, cheeks flaming, dropped onto the shoe rack and silently sobbed into her hands.
Darling, all yours? Every single one?
They were at Grannys.
Battery enraged the animalsBullet and Molly barked at Alexander, while Miss Foxton arched and hissed.
And you said youve no dowry.
Alexander grabbed his coat and keys and left, closing the door quietly. Claire rang Granny, trying to reassure hershe wouldnt upset the old lady, not now.
So that was it, she thought, clutching her furry friends, face wet with tearsno wedding, and it served her right. She didnt try to ring him; confession seemed pointless. Only a hollow, rotten ache remained.
Hours later, the bell rang. On her doorstep stood Alexander, arms laden with fancy pet food. He set the bags down, smiled, and disappeared again.
Dont shut the door, be right back.
A few minutes later, he returned, walking a dapper dachshund in a scarlet coat.
This is my dog, Penny. And this is Marigold. He reached under his jacket and drew out a ginger cat. Shes been living with Lucy. Will your team let us in?
Time passed. Alexander and Claire often laughed heartily as they retold this story over mugs of tea in the evening, surrounded by their ragtag menagerie. Who knowswithout such a dowry, perhaps fate would have been less kind, and theyd never have ended up together for all those years.
