"It's pissing down Beauty you don't really want to go for a walk?"
Accompanied with a soft whine and a wagging tail, pleading black eyes stared back at Astor and said, 'please please, yes yes.' How could she refuse? Besides, the wind had been howling mercilessly at the French windows in the library, and even through the thick green velvet curtains the clattering was making it difficult to concentrate. 'I must have something done to those windows,' she thought, before putting her book down. She peeled herself off the soft blue sofa which elicited an excited bark from Beauty, who then proceeded to run out of the room, through the hallway, to wait eagerly by the front door. Astor dutifully followed.
Astor had found Beauty four months previously in an alleyway lying in a pool of blood, beaten and on the brink of death. When the RSPCA arrived, they told her the dog would be put down. With apparent regret the man had said, "veterinary medicine is expensive, especially for unclaimed dogs." Two months later Astor picked Beauty up from the vets and, to everyone's surprise the dog had made a speedy recovery; her two broken legs had healed without any complication, and the only signs of injuries sustained were from the sporadic patches of shorter hair that hadn't fully grown back.
Astor had expected Beauty to have emotional issues, she didn't know the dog's history. Although as a pedigree flat back retriever she assumed someone's unwanted pet. She quivered with anger every time she thought about whom had cruelly beaten her, but when she reminded herself that it was this that brought them together she couldn't help but smile.
Beauty turned out to be an exceptionally clever dog; when Astor first brought her home she ran directly to the kitchen and with great aplomb jumped up, delicately turned the key with her mouth and opened the door to the back garden, where she proceeded to unceremoniously mark it.
Astor threw on her navy Burberry mackintosh and her trusty walking boots, she decided to forego a hat; her hair needed washing anyway and she also quite enjoyed the exhilarating feeling of being out in the rain. However, after twenty minutes the heavy rain turned torrential and even Beauty looked miserable, "shall we go see Fran and Jack?" Beauty wagged her tail in agreement. Five minutes later, Astor and Beauty walked into the Crown & Gate.
"Astor, how lovely to see you." She was immediately greeted by an avuncular man who ran out from behind the bar and gave her a great big hug completely disregarding her bedraggled state, before bending down to greet Beauty who jumped up on his knees and licked his face, "I'm pleased to see you too girl," he said while stroking her head. "She looks like a brand new dog!"
"It's amazing isn't it? And she's such a special dog she seems to understand everything. I still can't even begin to imagine how she was left like that. Anyway how are you? How's business? Is Fran around?"
"Can't complain. Fran's staying with her family, been a couple of weeks and is away for another, I'm bit lonely but all the better for seeing you. Come, what will you have? Whisky?"
"Please."
"I don't know why I ask." He dashed back behind the back of bar and then shortly returned with an 18 year old bottle of Talisker. He poured her a sizeable glass and left the bottle under the counter for her convenience.
Astor sat down at the bar, where Beauty immediately curled at her feet; it felt like home. She'd been coming to this pub since she was fifteen, she was now twenty eight. Jack was the closest thing she had to a father even when he found out she was underage he didn't ban her outright; she had been a difficult teen and he recognised she would just go somewhere else and cause trouble.
Jack and Fran were childless, Astor was parentless and although they didn't play at being a family, over the years they had developed a genuine friendship. Jack had even given Astor away at her wedding and then a year later held a party for her divorce. Astor loved their down to earth nature, they were good people and they provided a needed constant in her life. Even in his seventies Jack had the vigour of a young man, he was bright and alert as she watched him chat to a few patrons, she caught his eye and smiled.
Jack smiled back at Astor, fifty years as a publican and he had never met another character like her. Her resilience in spite of everything that life threw at her; the murder of her parents when she was twelve, the suspect guardianship of her uncle, her emancipation at sixteen, her struggle with her vast wealth and independence; they jokingly called them the wilderness years, when Astor was just as likely to be found in an East End squat or on a yacht in the south of France, and then her disastrous marriage. Jack was not a violent man but as he told Fran, "If I ever see Karl I will kick his head in." Fran, who was from a family of proud Spanish Gypsies, had sweetly replied to her husband's unusual show of aggression "not if I see him first." Astor was the strongest person he knew, and she has not let experience ruin her innocence.
"That's a nice dog you have there, flat back retriever, right?"
There was an accusatory note to the voice and something mephitic to his breath. Astor turned coolly towards the man and gave him a quick appraisal; Dark black hair framed a sallow gaunt face, black beady eyes pierced through her, he must have been about 6'2 and she could see he was lanky even under his long thick black coat. The overall impression was that of a Victorian undertaker and he was the most sinister man Astor had ever seen.
"Yes." Astor gave a purposefully curt answer, she did not want to converse with the man.
"How old is she?"
"About 3."
"She's a rescue?"
"Yes."
"And how long have you had her for?"
"Four months."
A wicked smile crossed the man's face that chilled Astor to the core.
"Why the interest in my dog?"
"I'm just interested. Is that a problem?"
"You tell me? Your interest doesn't seem too friendly, so if there is something you want I would rather you just got to it."
Vincent glared at the insolent little girl, no one spoke to him like that, as a predator he usually found his prey to be instinctually intimidated, he sensed her unease but she wasn't frightened. He hadn't expected resistance, no one ever stood in his way. 'Play nice, you're in public,' he told himself.
"I would like to buy your dog- please." The please came out as a hiss.
"Excuse me," she looked at him with incredulity.
"You heard me."
"Is there a problem?" Jack had come over when he saw the exchange becoming heated.
