Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Acknowledgements
- About the Authors
- Also by Rosie Goodwin
- Welcome to the world of Rosie Goodwin!
- Letter from Author
- Meat and Potato Pie
- The Precious Stones series
- The Days of the Week Collection
- Mothering Sunday
- Victorian Tales from Memory Lane
- Memory Lane Club
‘Uncle,’ she said then, bringing his thoughts back to the present. ‘I know it’s not my place to tell you this because it’s really none of my business, but as you know, Mrs Carter and I have taken to having a stroll together some evenings after dinner and I couldn’t help but notice that . . .’ She paused, wondering if she should go on. She shrugged inwardly, in for a penny in for a pound, she decided, before continuing, ‘Well, the thing is I’ve noticed how she stops to stroke almost every dog we meet and when I mentioned it, she confessed it had always been a desire of hers to have her own little dog.’
Jeremiah’s eyebrows almost got lost in his hairline and Amber gulped, wondering if she had overstepped the mark.
‘A dog?’ he looked incredulous.
‘Yes, but only a little ’un and then she could keep it in the kitchen and the yard. You wouldn’t even have to see it if you didn’t want to,’ Amber said cajolingly. ‘And she’d be so delighted. She’s such a nice woman and I think it would do her good.’
‘I’d never even thought of owning a pet, let alone having one in the house,’ he admitted.
Amber smiled at him. ‘So what do you think of the idea?’ she persisted. ‘A lady we meet often on the beach was telling us that a friend of hers has the most adorable litter of miniature dachshunds.’
When he looked at her uncomprehending she rushed on, ‘Some people call ’em sausage dogs. They’re quite low to the ground with long bodies.’
‘Hm, then I suppose I’d better give it some thought,’ he answered, not wishing to commit himself to anything.
‘In that case you should have this,’ Amber said with a cheeky grin as she fumbled in the pocket of her gown to take out a scrap of paper. ‘This is the address of the lady who has the puppies. She only lives over in Queen Street just off the north bay and I thought if you’d even entertain the idea you might want to go an’ have a look at ’em.’
‘Humph!’ Her uncle ignored the piece of paper and when she asked to be excused from the table, Amber wondered if her request had perhaps upset him. But then, she reasoned, he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to.