Raincoats and Retrievers. Cressida McLaughlin

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      Mark glanced at the tabletop, moved his spoon around. ‘It’s about a man who moves out of London to a rural town, to be close to his mother, who’s dying in a care home. He’s had to rent somewhere at short notice, and it’s far too big for him. He’s in this strange place, summoning the courage to confront his mother about this huge, unresolved secret from his childhood, and he realizes that he’s not alone in the house.’

      ‘Wow. That sounds…scary. And different, from your last two. Not so grizzly.’

      Mark nodded. ‘I thought, after the last one went so wrong – I mean, everyone’s pitched a film on a dark, run-down council estate. It’s not original any more, and the panning it got told me that. I wanted this setting to be much lighter, to see if I could still create that darkness, to build it around this guy who’s been wrong-footed by everything, dealing with his past, family secrets, moving away from his existing life to a large, empty house with – supposedly – only him in. It’s different, but I know it can work. And I can’t be the only one, because I’ve got this producer interested, so…’ He shrugged, but Cat could see the fire in his eyes, pinpoints of colour high on his cheeks. She could see how much he cared.

      ‘It sounds brilliant – definitely creepy. I’ve gone cold just thinking about it. Did you get your inspiration from Fairview, and your house on Primrose Terrace?’

      ‘Not originally.’ He narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘I started it before I moved here, but now I’m suddenly living in a house that’s too big for me, away from London…’

      ‘Life imitating art.’

      ‘Looks like it,’ Mark said, taking a drink of water.

      ‘Any dogs in it?’ Cat asked.

      ‘Is that the only way you’d be interested in seeing it?’ He laughed.

      ‘No, of course not. But I was thinking of all the different ways you could get a dog into a horror film. Maybe not the plot you’ve just told me, but a dog could come across the first dead body, digging in the garden, or – like the one Chips is named after – it could be a rescue dog. Or, or –’ Cat began to get animated, waving her arms about – ‘you could have zombie dogs. Has that been done before? Zombie dogs would be fast and small, they’d get among people’s ankles and bite them, turning everyone much quicker. And it would be extra terrifying, because dogs are usually so lovable. Actually –’ Cat screwed her face up – ‘maybe not that last one. I’m not sure I’d like it.’

      ‘No zombie dogs then,’ Mark said. ‘Got it.’

      ‘But maybe this guy could have a dog, a companion, who also senses that something’s wrong with the house. It would prove to him that he’s not going mad, give it more credence.’

      Mark gave her an appraising look. ‘You might be on to something there.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know – ignore me. But I’d love to see your films.’

      He laughed.

      ‘What?’

      ‘You said that like someone was holding a gun to your head.’

      ‘I did not!’ Cat protested. ‘I would like to see your films, but just maybe…maybe not with the lights off. I’m not good at watching horror films before bed.’

      ‘Even if you weren’t on your own?’ Mark asked, leaning back in his chair.

      Her insides fizzing, Cat returned his gaze.

      Their steaks arrived and they ate in a charged silence, until Mark asked her how the dog walking was going, whether Polly had finished her exams and how Frankie was getting on with her lodger. Leyla, one of the other nurses from Fairview vet’s, had loved the room and was moving in some time that week.

      Cat was pleased that she’d been able to help Frankie and her children. She was fitting into life at Primrose Terrace, and there was a niggling voice at the back of her mind asking her if it was wise to have a relationship with one of the neighbours. Mostly, she told that voice to back off, because it was hard to meet people, and you couldn’t base your relationship decisions on how awkward it would be if things went wrong.

      Mark topped up her glass, and Cat sipped the bubbles, enjoying the taste of top-quality champagne.

      ‘Now,’ Mark said. ‘Dessert?’

      ‘Undecipherable dessert.’

      They found their answer at the same time: Lemon posset with caramel honey tuile and pomegranate espuma. Cat watched Mark order them with a straight face and, when the waiter had gone, and she had managed not to descend into giggles, he reached over and took her hand.

      The sun was just a thin line of burnished red marking the break between sea and sky, and she could see herself and Mark reflected back at her in the window.

      ‘Cat,’ he said, and there was something about his voice that made her breath catch in her throat. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this point.’

      Cat shook her head. ‘You’ve been busy, it’s OK.’

      ‘It’s not. I have been distracted, with the move, the new film. But I don’t want you to think that you’ve been an afterthought. You haven’t.’

      ‘OK.’ Cat swallowed. ‘Thank you. I did wonder if we were going to sidestep around each other for ever. But this is – this is great. Getting to know you. A little bit, anyway.’

      ‘This isn’t a one-off,’ Mark said. ‘At least, I don’t want it to be. But what do you think? It hasn’t been a total disaster, has it?’ His thumb stroked her hand.

      ‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘Despite the threat of beetroot and seaweed, I think it’s going well.’

      The candle cast shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks, and his skin looked dark against the crisp white of his shirt. Cat shivered and rearranged her serviette on her knee.

      ‘Are you cold?’

      ‘No, I’m fine. How’s Chips?’

      ‘She’s good,’ Mark said. ‘I took her for an extra-long walk this afternoon, through the park and up along the cliffs, so hopefully she’s tired out and not missing me too much. You have a cat, don’t you? What’s his name?’

      ‘Shed. He’s OK, though he’s not actually mine, he’s Joe’s. I wouldn’t have picked a grumpy ginger cat as a pet.’

      ‘It’s always puzzled me, why you don’t have a dog of your own.’

      Cat gave him a quick smile. She didn’t want to say anything to turn Mark against Joe. If things kept going in the right direction, she wanted them to be friends. ‘It’s not practical with Shed there, he can only just tolerate human company. But I’m not short of canine companions. The Barkers’ retrievers are lovely – quite different to the schnauzers or the Westies. They’re strong and they like long walks, but they’re very affectionate, playful. I somehow feel more confident when I’m walking them.’

      ‘I don’t think I know the Barkers.’

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