HOT DOGS and ice cream
Lauren stood in the doorway, enjoying the breeze coming in off the sea. Beyond the sea wall, ripples nudged at the shingle and a handful of yachts bobbed like bath toys on the sparkling water.
She stepped outside and turned to face the shopfront. Though she said it herself, Gary’s Gallery was looking much better since her arrival. Gone were the salt-spray splashes and advertising flyers that had obscured the window, and the sky-blue paintwork was now fresh and clean.
Suddenly, her ears pricked up at the sound of a disagreement nearby.
‘The dog looked distressed,’ said a firm man’s voice. ‘I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.’
‘I left the window cracked open,’ came a sharper one. ‘I was only gone a minute.’
‘Five minutes,’ the first man corrected. ‘And all I did was reach in and open the door to give him some air.’
‘All?’ the other ranted. ‘The dog’s gone, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Yes, but it only ran off when you returned. Doesn’t that tell you something?’
The breeze shifted and the
