‘I guess he’s mine.’

And ten minutes later when Nick walked back into the classroom the thing was settled. He entered the room, Natalie’s hand shot up and she asked before Misty could give permission.

‘Please, sir, how’s Miss Lawrence’s dog?’

Miss Lawrence’s dog. He flashed a look at Misty and she met his gaze with every evidence of serenity. As if she picked up stray dogs all the time.

Why? Dogs must give her heartache upon heartache, he thought. The lifespan for a dog was what? Sixteen years? The mutt in question was around ten years old already and battered, which meant he was sliding towards grief for all concerned. He had six years, at most-if he made it through the next twenty-four hours.

‘He has a broken leg,’ he said, aware of a classroom of eyes, but aware most acutely of Bailey. Bailey, who’d seen far too much horror already. Because of his father’s stupidity…

‘Is Dr Cray fixing him?’ Misty asked from the front of the room, and his gaze locked on hers. He could reply without speaking; he knew this woman was intelligent enough to get it.

‘It’s an extremely expensive operation to fix his leg,’ he said, trying for a neutral tone. ‘He’s already an elderly dog, so there may be complications. Apparently he’s from the Animal Welfare Centre-a stray-but Dr Cray says he’s willing to take care of him for us. All he needs is your permission. I can phone him now and let him know it’s okay.’

She got the message. He saw her wince.

The vet was letting her off the hook. All she had to do was nod and go back to reading to the children. Nicholas would relay her decision and the problem would be solved.

But this woman didn’t work like that. He sensed it already and her response was no surprise. ‘How expensive?’

So she couldn’t save the dog at any cost. She was a schoolteacher, after all.