Wellies and Westies Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking pleased. Cat had stuck it on the wall above her dressing table.

    Polly had come up with Pooch Promenadewhile they were watching a period drama, the main characters strolling in the grounds of a grand stately home, parasols shielding them from the sun.
    ‘Does Magic Mouse have a Twitter account?’ Cat asked Joe.
    ‘Yup.’
    ‘So you’ve got lots of local followers?’
    ‘Yup.’ His head was back down, his fingers wrapped around his coffee mug. Cat made a face at him and searched for it.
    ‘I saw that,’ Joe said.
    ‘Good,’ Cat murmured, her attention drawn to the 2,500 followers Joe had managed to accumulate. ‘Wow.’ She began scrolling through them, clicking ‘follow’ on any that were obviously local to Fairview or Fairhaven. She recognized a couple of names, businesses mostly: Spatz Restaurant, the local library, Capello’s Ice Cream Parlour – Not Just for Sundaes . She found the nursery, hovered over the ‘follow’ button and then clicked on it. Alison could find out how proactive she was being.
    She scrolled through photo avatars and the occasional cartoon picture. Magic Mouse Illustrationswas represented by a simple cartoon of a mouse – half computer, half cheese-eating. It made Cat smile every time she saw it, and she wondered if she could convince Joe to draw something for Pooch Promenade.Her company would be so much more recognizable if she had a cute cartoon dog as the logo.
    ‘You can’t just follow people,’ Joe said, ‘you need to say something useful.’
    ‘I will. But there’s no point saying it if nobody’s listening.’
    ‘Very philosophical.’
    Cat was trying to come up with a witty reply when her eyes snagged on a familiar name. Jessica Heybourne. Why did she know that name? She clicked onto her page, where there was a photo of a glamorous blonde, probably a few years older than Cat, smiling warmly at the lens with a confidence reserved for the frequently photographed. She had pale skin, heavily lined eyes and fair hair piled and teased like a cloud of candyfloss around her face. She had 22,000 followers, and her bio read: Bestselling cookery writer, total foodie, love my Westies and living by the sea. THE HEART OF FOOD out now.

    That was it! Westies.
    Elsie had told Cat that Jessica Heybourne should be at the top of her list of potential clients. She was a well-known author, popular in the community as well as further afield, had three West Highland terriers and the potential to provide Cat with more word-of-mouth custom than the Fairhaven Press . And, as Elsie had told her gleefully, she lived at number one Primrose Terrace.
    Cat had walked past it often, her eyes lingering over the elegant primrose paint, the large porch and the gleaming glass extension that was just visible from the side of the house. Cat sat back and sipped her tea, wondering how to approach her. Jessica would never notice a general tweet – she probably didn’t have much time to read Twitter, but used it to promote her books and hook her adoring public. She’d have to send her a direct tweet, and she could always follow it up with a personal visit.
    Abandoning her laptop, Cat walked to the window. The rain was falling in a solid sheet, the terrace barely visible beyond the raindrops slaloming down the glass. It was a typical March day, and Cat didn’t mind it – she would have to embrace all weathers if she was going to be a successful dog walker – but she wouldn’t give a good impression if she knocked on Jessica’s door looking like a bedraggled Great Dane.
    She returned to her computer, followed Jessica and began composing her tweet. Half an hour and two bitten nails later she clicked the ‘tweet’ button, sat back and waited.

    ‘What are you looking so nervous about?’ Joe picked up her empty mug.
    Cat shrugged. ‘Nothing. Just…looking for some clients.’
    ‘Inside your computer?’
    ‘That’s where it’s at these days,’ Cat said breezily, just as she remembered