He said “Bertie” before we’d said a word.
We’d pulled in by a bend in the road above the estuary. One of those places you don’t plan to stop, but do anyway. Low wall, rough bench, bit of a drop down to the water.
Bertie was already off, halfway down the slope, nose working.
The man was sitting on the bench.
Didn’t look up straight away. Just said it.
“Bertie.”
I stopped. Properly stopped.
James did that half-smile he does when he thinks he’s missed something obvious.
“Sorry?” he said.
The man nodded towards Bertie, who was now fully committed to digging at nothing in particular.
“Bertie,” he said again. “He was here yesterday.”
That didn’t fit.
We hadn’t been there. We’d been further along the coast the day before.
James said it.
“No, not us.”
The man shrugged.
“Same dog. Same name.”
I sat down on the edge of the bench. The wood was still warm.
“Where?” I asked.
He pointed down towards the rocks. Not to a path or a spot, just… down there.
“He doesn’t like the wind,” he said.
That part was true.
Bertie had already worked that out earlier in the week. There’s a wind here that comes at you from odd angles. He’ll just stop and refuse to move, like he’s hit a wall.
James looked at me, then back at him.
“You sure it was him?”
The man smiled.
“You get used to the dogs,” he said. “People change. Dogs don’t.”
Bertie came back up then. No rush. Just wandered over, looked at the man, and sat down in front of him like they’d already met.
No barking. No hesitation.
The man scratched behind his ear. Got the exact spot first go.
“See,” he said.
James let out a short laugh.
“Right,” he said. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”
We stayed longer than we meant to.
Didn’t get his name. Didn’t ask.
As we walked back to the car, I said it.
“It’s like the cheese lady disappearing again.”
James nodded.
“Yeah. Same sort of thing.”
He opened the boot, waited for Bertie to jump in.
“You don’t get that at home,” he said. “Closest thing we’ve had is someone in Pickering thinking they know him from the market, and even that’s usually wrong.”
That was it.
That small, familiar version of it, but never quite like this.
Bertie jumped in without being asked. That usually means he’s done for the day.
I looked back once.
The bench was empty.
No rush. No drama. Just empty.
We didn’t go back the next day.
