Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door

by Ross Montgomery

  ‘And then they lived happily ever after!’

  ‘Yes, Alex, you’re right. They did. And I’m not sure about you, but that sounds like the end of a story to me. Good night, Alex.’

  ‘Good night, Dad.’

  32

  Another morning sun rose over the Cusp. Sunlight sparkled on the fragments of broken glass littering the runways, and great shadows were cast across the gutted sides of broken warehouses. Matthew and Martha stood at the edge of the boundary, gazing over the grassland that rippled in the morning wind.

  ‘There he is!’ cried Martha. ‘I see him!’

  Matthew smiled. She was right. Far on the horizon, a figure had emerged from the grassland, running towards them. Matthew squinted.

  ‘There’s something else with him,’ he said.

  ‘Looks like a dog to me,’ said Laurence Davy.

  Matthew glanced at the boy beside him. ‘Any chance you can let us go now please, Grand High Chieftain Wizard?’

  He nodded to the ropes that tied him and Martha to the giant wooden stake. Laurence Davy shook his head apologetically.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Price,’ he said. ‘Not quite yet. We need to have a chat with the Dog Walker first.’

  ‘“We”?’ said Matthew.

  Laurence pointed to the crowd of armed children behind him. There were thousands of them now, filling the entire base. They were all covered in pieces of makeshift armour, their faces decorated with warpaint, wielding sticks and toy guns. Their eyes were fixed on the two figures running across the grassland towards them.

  The boy and the dog reached the boundary. Slowly, nervously, they stepped onto the concrete of the base and looked up at the crowd. You could have heard a pin drop.

  ‘Er, hello,’ said Alex, and gave a wave.

  There was silence. Alex looked at Arnauld and gently kicked him in the ribs.

  ‘Oh,’ said Arnauld. ‘Er, woof.’

  The crowd suddenly erupted with cheers. Handfuls of rose petals rained down. Laurence Davy stepped forward, his face set with humility. Slowly, he bowed down to Alex. The crowd quickly followed suit, and soon the base was filled with thousands of bodies bowed down to Alex.

  ‘Alex Jennings,’ said Laurence Davy nobly. ‘Dog Walker, Triumphant King of the Forbidden Land, we welcome you back to the world of men with open arms.’

  ‘All hail the Dog Walker!’ chanted the crowd.

  Laurence Davy stood up and clasped Alex by the shoulders.

  ‘I ask you to join our crusade,’ he said, ‘and help us lead the New Age onwards into victory.’

  ‘That’s OK, Laurence,’ said Alex. ‘I just want to go home, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘As you wish,’ said Laurence Davy, bowing gracefully. ‘Any other requests, Dog Walker?’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘Hi, Alex,’ said Matthew.

  Alex looked over to where Matthew was tied to the stake. He was just one of several hundred prisoners tied up along the great curve of the Cusp. They included Martha, and Greg, and the night watchman, and Steph, and Mike and Duncan, and all the members of the Order, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be captured by the Wolf-Tiger Fighter Jet Squadron on their unstoppable rise to power.

  ‘Yes I do, as a matter of fact,’ said Alex. ‘I’d like you to let all the prisoners go, please.’

  Laurence Davy swung round.

  ‘Release the prisoners!’ he cried. ‘By order of Alex Jennings the Dog Walker!’

  The ropes tying Matthew and Martha to the stakes were quickly cut. They ran over to him.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Martha cried. ‘He’s back, and he’s lost the jumper too. A perfect ending.’

  ‘Hi, Martha,’ Alex smiled. ‘Did I miss anything?’

  ‘Oh, not much, Alex,’ she snapped sarcastically. ‘Got my teeth?’

  Alex handed her the pair from his pocket.

  ‘About time!’ Martha groaned, spitting out the metal wolf’s teeth. ‘I mean, they’re great for biting stuff, but you can’t eat a toffee to save your life.’ She nodded at Arnauld. ‘Nice dog, by the way.’

  Arnauld blushed. ‘Woof,’ he said, his tail wagging. ‘Woof woof woof.’

  There was a tap on Alex’s shoulder. Alex turned and faced Matthew.

  ‘Hi, Mr Price,’ he smiled.

  ‘Hello, Alex,’ he smiled back. ‘I’m so happy you decided to come home.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Alex.

  ‘We were really worried when we found out Kyte had escaped,’ said Matthew. ‘Do you know where …?’

  ‘No,’ said Alex firmly. ‘I don’t. But I don’t think he’ll be coming back.’

  Matthew nodded. He paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue. He cleared his throat.

  ‘And … your father?’

  Alex gave him a look that managed to tell him not to ask any more questions.

  Around them, the other prisoners were being cut free. Steph and Greg gave each other an embarrassed wave.

  ‘So what are you going to do now, Alex?’ said Martha. ‘Go back to school?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Matthew. ‘It’s been burned down.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alex. He looked at Martha and Matthew. ‘Do you … do you both want to come back to my mum’s with us?’ He pointed to the dog beside him. ‘I mean, she’s probably wondering where I am.’

  Martha and Matthew looked at each other and shrugged.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Matthew.

  They made to leave, but before they took even a step they were mobbed by a crowd of excited children.

  ‘Alex!’ one shouted. ‘I can’t believe it’s actually you!’

  ‘You’re a hero!’

  ‘So did you see it?’ one of them cried, jumping forwards. ‘Did you see what was at the centre?’

  A hush fell over the group. Alex looked around.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I did.’

  Everyone gasped. The crowd around them had suddenly grown, and they were all jostling to hear what Alex had to say.

  ‘What did you see?’ someone cried out.

  ‘What was there?’

  ‘What was in the middle?’

  The shouts grew over each other. Everyone was pushing and shoving, desperate to hear Alex talk. He shrugged.

  ‘There wasn’t anything,’ he said. ‘There wasn’t anything in the middle.’

  There were shouts of disbelief.

  ‘You’re joking!’ said a boy next to him, poking him in the ribs a little harder than Alex would have liked. ‘Seriously, what was in the middle?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Alex insisted. ‘I’m being serious – there was nothing there, just fog …’

  His voice was slowly lost in the shouting crowd.

  ‘Was there a monster?’ someone shouted.

  ‘Another world?’

  ‘Piles of money?’

  ‘No,’ said Alex. ‘Listen, please …’

  But in the excitement they had all started shouting at once, imagining what could be in the centre.

  ‘Please …’ he cried.

  Suddenly, someone grabbed a stick and held it up in the air like a torch, and pointed out his sword. Everyone laughed, and started doing the same.

  ‘No!’ Alex cried. ‘Stop, there isn’t anything there …’

  But no one was listening any more. One by one they charged down to the boundary and stood in a line where the concrete met the grass, crying out across the grassland, swords in hand, whooping and laughing.

  ‘Stop!’ Alex cried. ‘Don’t you believe me? Stop …!’

  Alex started to run after them, but was stopped by a tug on his leg. He looked down. Arnauld was shaking his head gravely.

  ‘Alex,’ he said. ‘There is nothing you can do. Leave them.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Alex,’ said Arnauld, pulling at his leg. ‘Please – let us go home.’

  Alex paused for a moment and turned back to the fences. They were destroyed now, and the gates were hanging wide open. Matthe
w and Martha stood waiting for them.

  Alex gulped and walked away from the boundary. He met the others silently, and the four of them walked out the gates together.

  ‘You’re quite a celebrity now, aren’t you, Alex?’ Matthew smiled.

  Alex shrugged, embarrassed. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he said.

  ‘I guess your mum will be wanting to hear all about it,’ said Matthew.

  Alex smiled. ‘Yeah,’ he said happily. ‘She will.’

  ‘Alex …’ said Martha suspiciously. ‘… Did that dog just talk to you?’

  Just before they hit the Outskirts, Alex turned back to the crowd of children he had left behind. They were still at the boundary in their makeshift armour, crying out over the grassland. Even more had joined them now. Hundreds and hundreds of them ran around the great empty curve of the Cusp, thousands of them bellowing across the divide, spinning in circles, waving their swords to the land beyond the woods, to the land they could not see.

  Q & A: Get to Know … Ross Montgomery

  How long did it take you to write Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door?

  It took about two years in total, from when I wrote the first word to when it was finally sent off to publishers. I was working as a teacher at the same time so I could really only write it in school holidays. My friends were very nice and let me stay in their houses so I could focus on writing, and not get distracted by other less important things like marking schoolwork or paying electricity bills.

  How did you come up with Alex as a character?

  My experience of teaching over the last few years has helped me meet lots of different children. There’s an Alex in every class: imaginative, vulnerable, struggles to stop talking.

  Do you love dogs as much as Alex?

  Almost. My main birthday present last year was getting to go to the dog show in Earl’s Court so I could walk around, asking people if I could stroke their dog. The trick is to try and do it without looking completely mad. This is harder than it sounds.

  Do you have a dog?

  Not yet. I’m going to wait until I have my own house so it can savage my furniture rather than my landlord’s.

  What’s your favourite breed of dog?

  After several months of negotiation and a few threatening emails, my publisher and I have agreed that we will reduce my original extensive answer to just one breed. There’s no way I could have a favourite, so I’ll just choose one from the pile in front of me …

  The Brussels Griffon. Sensitive, self-important, gets on well with ferrets. Looks like a wise old elf who smokes a pipe and grants you wishes.

  Have you ever been in trouble with the police?

  When I was seven I put gravel down the church toilet. The organist told me that the vicar would probably call the police when he found out. As of publication, they still haven’t caught up with me.

  You’re a teacher – are you nice like Matthew?

  I’d like to think so. I imagine the children I teach would say I’m more like Davidus Kyte!

  How did you come up with all the different lands in the story?

  I wanted each land to be as different as possible from the one before it. I honestly can’t remember if they were based on anything, or if I just made them all up. Having said that, I should mention now that I don’t know if it is best to travel across a desert at night-time. Always check with your local scientist before embarking on any expeditions.

  Where did you get the idea for the unopenable door?

  I liked the idea that something as simple for us to use as a round door handle is an unsurpassable obstacle to a dog – much like how, in the book, a dog can travel across the boundary without any problems, but humans can’t take a step over it, and can’t understand why they can’t.

  What would you ask a dog if you discovered it could speak?

  “What’s the deal with eating poo?”

  When did you know you wanted to be an author?

  I wrote a story in infants’ class one day, where one of the characters repeated something extremely rude about taxes that I’d overheard my dad saying the night before. I proudly informed my mum about this on the drive back home. She did a U-turn and drove back to school at about a hundred miles an hour so she could rub it out before the teacher saw it. I had discovered the power of writing.

  What’s a typical working day like for an author?

  8.00am wake up bright and early for productive day of writing

  8.01am go back to sleep

  10.00am sit in front of computer and look at blank page

  10.01am look at pictures of dogs on Google instead

  11.50am finally start writing

  12.00am well earned lunch

  1.00pm delete all writing from the morning in disgust

  1.01pm look at blank page

  1.06pm wring hair

  1.07pm kick wall

  1.08pm rub cream on swollen foot

  1.10pm promise to write more tomorrow when foot stops hurting

  1.15pm

  to evening visit funfairs

  How do you come up with ideas for your stories?

  If you’re anything like me, you’ll get an idea one day – just a little one – and think nothing of it. Then it grows over time. Sometimes it’s on its own, sometimes it’s with a little help. Most of the big decisions I’ve made about my stories have been when I’m sitting alone on a bus.

  Are you influenced by any other authors?

  Hundreds and hundreds of them! Nothing helps you come up with ideas like reading a fantastic book, or poem, or article. It doesn’t matter what you read, so long as you love it – it all helps.

  Which were your favourite books when you were a child?

  The first book I ever truly, passionately loved was called Ging Gang Goolie It’s An Alien. It’s about an alien that loves sausages who comes to destroy Earth and then bumps into a group of rubbish boy scouts who are on a camping trip. It taught me everything I need to know about how to spend hours carefully writing a story in your neatest handwriting, and then throw all the paper into the air instead because it’s really funny.

  What ingredients, in your opinion, does a good book need?

  If you can surprise the person who’s reading, that’s always good. There are a thousand different ways to do that. My sister is a teacher too, and she showed me a Sherlock Holmes story written by one of her pupils. It turned out in the end the killer was J. Sainsbury, the man who started Sainsbury’s supermarkets. It doesn’t matter how long I write for: I could write a thousand books, and I will never come up with an ending as good as that.

  Do you have any tips for new writers?

  It’s a really boring tip and gets said all the time, but it’s because it’s the best one: write loads. Don’t worry about making mistakes or getting it perfect – just keep writing stories that you love, and think others will love, and you’ll work out everything you need to know along the way.

  What do you like to do besides write?

  I like to walk around aimlessly, muttering under my breath and looking like I have something extremely important to do.

  Are you able to tell us anything about your next book?

  Absolutely not! It’s top secret – kept under lock and key in my house. My publisher has assured me they won’t publish an extract of it on the next page, under any circumstances. To be on the safe side it’s probably best if you don’t turn over the page – just in case they have. I know I can trust you.

  Don’t miss the next exciting book from Ross! Here’s a sneak preview from the very first pages of Tornado Chasers…

  This notepaper is kindly provided for the inmates of

  THE COUNTY DETENTION CENTRE

  Use one sheet per week

  No scribbling

  Dear Warden,

  If you’re reading this letter then it means I’ve finally escaped.

  It also means you’ve found the secret place behind the loose tile above the sink, which means you’ll have also found th
e mouse traps I put there before I left. Sorry about Actually I’m not sorry about that. When I first came to the County Detention Centre, you said I had to tell the truth about what happened – when it all began, who did what, why we did it, why it ended the way it did. ‘Write it down,’ you said. ‘Make a poem about it all. Turn it into a story if you have to. But one way or another, you have to tell us.’

  And so I did. I sat down, and I wrote a story – about everything that happened, from the beginning to the end, as best as I could tell it. The only way I could tell it. And here it is – every last word.

  Which brings me to the question I know you’re desperate to ask: if I’ve run away, then where have I run away to?

  Well, you’re just going to have to read my story, aren’t you?

  LOVE YOURS SINCERELY,

  INMATE 409

  About the Author

  Ross Montgomery is a first-time author. He started writing stories as a teenager, when he really should have been doing homework, and continued doing so at university. After graduating, he experimented with working as a pig farmer and a postman before deciding to channel these skills into teaching at a primary school. He wrote Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door when he really should have been marking homework. He lives in Brixton, London, with his girlfriend and many, many dead plants.

  Copyright

  First published in 2013

  by Faber and Faber Ltd

  Bloomsbury House

  74–77 Great Russell Street

  London WC1B 3DA

  This ebook edition first published in 2013

  All rights reserved

  © Ross Montgomery, 2013

  Cover illustration © David Tazzyman, 2013

  Inside illustrations © Mark Ecob, 2013

  The right of Ross Montgomery to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly