Missing Toby

by Jill Harris

  Harriet sprawled on the side of the road, knees and hands raw and bleeding. People were shouting but their voices came from far away. She pushed herself up slowly, unaware of her wounds. She did not see the crashed cars, nor her parents running towards her. She did not notice that Honey was safe on the other side of the road, nor that Brutus had been dragged away.

  She saw only Gus lying still, a black heap on the road, and Max standing beside him. She limped over to them and crouched down. Max raised his head and pulled his lips back in a grimace of pain. He sent a terrible cry into the sky. Harriet toppled sideways, laid her head on Gus’s back, and sobbed. An anthem of howls rose from the neighbouring streets.

  Afterwards

  Max lay curled up in his kennel with his nose by the door. He dragged himself out from time to time to do his rounds. Now that it didn’t matter, he wasn’t tied up during the day.

  “I don’t think Max will be going anywhere,” said Mr Howard to Mrs Howard. “The poor old fellow’s grieving for Gus.”

  Each time the breeze rustled the hydrangeas, Max expected to see Gus pushing through them. And then his heart contracted as he remembered. Every minute of that first day, every square metre of the garden held reminders of Gus. It was as though Max had to re-wire everything in his mind to the new reality that Gus wasn’t there any more.

  Almost all his life, Gus had been his friend. He remembered when he’d first arrived as a puppy, confused and missing his family; how Gus had comforted him. Hardly a day had passed since then when they had not spent time together. Later, Gus had explained to him there was a job to do in the neighbourhood and he could do with a partner. There was always a dog somewhere who needed help or a firm word. When Max got his final collar, Gus told him to make a fuss about it being too tight, so his owners loosened it. That way, he could wriggle out of it whenever they had a job to do.

  Memories flooded in: Gus paddling out into the pond to rescue Lulu when she’d got in too deep; Gus facing down an angry dog who roamed the park; Gus laying down the law about not chasing kittens; Gus licking Girl after Brutus had attacked her.

  Girl – Honey. For the umpteenth time the events of yesterday unrolled like a film moving on to its terrible climax. Max whined and moved into a new position on his blanket. He wanted yesterday never to have happened.

  Ted Jacobs was driving to the hospital to see his sister. He didn’t want to go. Everything was a huge effort. He hadn’t slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gus with his kindly face, his solid body and wide smile. He shut out the picture of what he had seen yesterday.

  His heart ached for his old friend of eleven years. He knew about Gus’s comings and goings through the hydrangeas and he suspected the reason for them. They were important reasons. From time to time he had caught sight of Gus, usually with Max, ducking into gardens and behind bushes, and he was pretty sure they had a lot to do with the good behaviour of the neighbourhood dogs.

  He was worried about Harriet. She had just started to perk up. She smiled and laughed more, and the dogs had done it – first Max, then Gus, and after that, Honey. Thank goodness her parents had agreed to let Harriet keep Honey.

  As for Max, Ted had taken him the bone Gus had been chewing the day he died. “You’re as sad as I am, aren’t you Max,” he said. “But Gus died the way he lived – doing something for somebody else. Come over and see me when you’re ready, old fella.”

  “Far too much has been happening for her,” said the doctor by the front door, “and coming so soon after her brother’s death. She needs a day or two at home, and the dog will help. I don’t believe in giving children pills – she’ll come right in her own time.”

  Harriet spent the first day in bed. Honey lay curled up against her. Her mother sat in a chair, reading, and ignored the telephone. Harriet had bandages on her left hand and both knees and everything seemed too hard, so she stared out the window. When her mother went downstairs to get drinks and nibbles for them, Honey followed and went outside to sniff around. Brutus had gone so she felt safe to go anywhere. Gus’s scent was everywhere, filling her with sadness – and guilt. If only she had not run out into the road. Did Max blame her for what had happened? She longed to see him, even hear him, but he was not answering any of the calls the others put out.

  “It’s my fault Gus died,” Harriet told her mother miserably.

  “No, Harry, it’s not,” replied her mother. “It was Brutus who set everything off.”

  “Gus saved my life,” whispered Harriet in a choked-up voice.

  “Yes, dearest Harry,” her mother replied, “he probably did. We’ll never forget him. He was a brave dog. Mr Jacobs must be feeling terrible.”

  “And Max,” added Harriet, “and Honey.”

  Honey licked her arm.

  “What will happen to Brutus?” she asked.

  “Brutus has been taken away by a friend of Mrs Martin’s son. She was very upset by what happened. She’d like to come over to see you – when you’re ready.”

  What does ‘ready’ mean? thought Harriet. When I’ve ‘got over’ Gus being run over? And Toby dying? And climbing over the edge of a steep slope with nothing to hold on to? When I’ve gone through everything in my head and my heart’s stopped aching?

  But later, when Amanda and her mother dropped in after school bringing Harriet a huge, juicy pear with a gold and rose skin, and a mango from Fiji with a wonderful perfume, and a bag full of letters from her class, Harriet cheered up a little.

  When they’d gone, she picked up the book from her bedside table. How to Look After Your New Dog: A Manual for First-Time Owners was what Mr Jacobs had given her. She showed Honey. “Will you help me to do what the book says?” she asked, and she was sure Honey smiled and winked.

  Note to Harriet

  He cleared a space in the curls of wood and swept the wood dust to one side with his arm. He took a piece of paper and after a moment’s thought he wrote:

  He wrapped the little carving up in a twist of black paper and placed it in a box. He folded the letter and was about to wrap them together when he decided to take out the figure for one last look.

  The dark-stained, wooden dog was a Labrador – old, trustworthy, kindly, intelligent. The carving looked as though it would bark at any moment. He knew it was the best thing he’d done.

  He hoped Harriet would understand it was his way of saying sorry that Gus had died, and sorry for the danger he’d put them all in.

  ‘Staunch’ was his word for Harriet. He hoped she might want to see him again next time he visited Gran and Pop.

  She had a job opening the parcel with one hand out of action. Inside was something wrapped in black paper.

  She read the note and removed the paper.

  Then she stood the figure next to the carving of Max on her dressing table. They looked so real! It was as if they were about to go off on an errand.

  Harriet swallowed hard. They looked right together, but she knew she would give the carving of Gus to Mr Jacobs.

  It was funny how someone whom Harriet had felt she couldn’t quite trust had done a carving of Gus that caught the essence of his trustworthiness.

  Another mystery, she thought, but decided that’s what made life so interesting.

  Mystery Solved

  They found a place in the car park when someone pulled out as they drove round for the third time.

  “Bingo!” said Mr Jacobs. “Always good to find a spot in the shade.”

  Harriet lifted Honey off her lap and settled her on her blanket on the floor. “We can’t take you into the hospital, Honey.”

  Her mother poured some water into a plastic container. Honey lapped it noisily then lay back down. She was anxious about being in a car, and being left alone, but she knew she could trust Harriet.

  Mr Jacobs left the car window open near the top so Honey wouldn’t get too hot, and locked the car.

  They walked towards the hospital. Harriet’s chest felt rather odd, as though a flock of birds w
as flying around inside. The last time she had been here was that awful, final visit to see Toby. She looked up at her mother – this must be hard for her, too. She was also worried about leaving Honey on her own in the car – she could see that Honey was nervous. How was Max was getting on, she wondered, and her stomach hurt when she remembered Gus.

  She felt oddest about meeting Mr Jacobs’ sister.

  Mr Jacobs had rung the night before. “Do you think Harriet would be up to visiting Maddy in the hospital tomorrow?” he’d asked.

  Harriet had thought about Mrs Bell lying there after her fall. She thought about the dog charm and the book and the brooch and the knife and the photograph frame, which she was now sure came from Mrs Bell. She was also pretty certain Mrs Bell had given food and water to Honey, because she’d seen a bowl by the front steps of the Old House. She was reluctant to go out in the car – but she did want to meet Mrs Bell.

  Mr Jacobs had called for them after breakfast. Harriet climbed into the back seat of his car and noticed the black dog hairs. She felt very sorry for Mr Jacobs. His house must be full of painful reminders of Gus. She supposed that was why her parents had cleaned out Toby’s room – but couldn’t you leave some reminders around? She hoped Mr Jacobs wouldn’t tidy everything away too soon.

  Now they were walking through the front doors of the hospital. On the seventh floor, they walked along the corridor and stopped at Room Five. “I’ll let her know you’re here,” he said.

  Harriet waited with her mother. She could see there were two beds in the room. One was empty and there was a green curtain around the other. Mr Jacobs came out and beckoned, as he pulled back the curtain.

  Mrs Bell was sitting up in bed. She looked at Harriet with sharp, brown eyes. “I thought you must be Harriet,” she said. “I couldn’t think who else would be wandering round in the middle of the night with a couple of dogs. Well, don’t just stand there – sit down. You sit next to the bed,” she ordered Harriet.

  Harriet stared at her. Her white hair was pinned up on top of her head. She had a shapeless, purple cardigan over her nightie, with two buttons missing. Round her neck was a diamond necklace. On her hands she was wearing so many rings you could hardly see her fingers.

  “You don’t think I’d leave my jewels in an empty house, do you?” she said. “Teddy brought them to me straight away.”

  She stretched out her hand to Harriet. “You’ve been having quite a time of it, haven’t you?” She rested her fingers on Harriet’s bandages. Harriet looked down at the rings and giggled.

  “Have you got some on your toes as well?”

  Mrs Bell laughed. “I’ve got ‘rings on my fingers and bells on my toes’. See this green one,” she wiggled a finger. “An Indian prince gave it to me on a ship voyage to England. He said I must never, ever take it off or ill-fortune would come to me.” Her face looked sad. “I never did take it off.”

  She looked across to Harriet’s mother. “Did you take off your emerald ring?” she asked quietly.

  Harriet didn’t quite understand what was going on between her mother and Mrs Bell, but she could feel the sadness. Then her questions tumbled out. “It was you who gave me the presents, wasn’t it? I love them. How did you know about me? When did you put them in the letterbox? Did you leave the things for Max and Gus?”

  “Goodness me, Harriet, what a lot of answers you want!” Mrs Bell gathered her thoughts. “Teddy told me about a sad girl called Harriet who lived round the corner. He found out why the girl was sad and told me that, too.

  “I knew what you were going through, and I hoped you would be able to deal with it better than I did. You see, Harriet, when my son and then my husband died, I gave up and let the sadness take over. That was a great mistake. I thought perhaps I could help you along by leaving surprises in your letterbox, so you had a mystery to work out. Then, when Gus and Max became your friends, I decided to include them in the mystery and leave presents in their letterboxes, too.

  “Naturally, I didn’t want you to see me, so I put them there at night. That’s when I go walking anyway – or early in the morning. But before I could get very far with my plan, I slipped and broke my hip.”

  She patted Harriet’s hand. “If Gus hadn’t fetched you, I don’t know what would have happened. What a good friend Gus was to all of us. And how brave you were that night, Harriet. Thank you, dear.”

  Mrs Bell sighed and sank back into the pillows.

  Harriet wanted to ask her lots more questions, but she could see Mrs Bell was tired. She had to know one more thing, though. “Will you keep on living in the Old House?”

  Mrs Bell glanced at Mr Jacobs. “We’re still working that out.” She looked at Harriet with bright eyes. “I’d like to live somewhere near enough for us to be friends. And that dog of yours who’s been living at my place – I saw her when she was abandoned in the park, you know, early one morning. Someone threw her out a car window.”

  Harriet stared at her. “Oh, how awful! Thrown out of a car!” Then another thought struck her. “But that means her old owners don’t want her back! That means I can keep her! I won’t have to tell the SPCA about her.” She paused. “There’s so much I want to ask you about – like all the things you’ve given me. Please can I come to visit you again?”

  “I’m sure we can manage that,” said Mr Jacobs. He and her mother chatted to Mrs Bell for a while longer.

  After about ten minutes they said goodbye and returned to the car. Honey was so excited to see them she cried with pleasure and ran round in circles when they let her out for a stretch.

  “How about we pop in to see Max on the way home?” suggested Mr Jacobs.

  Max came running to the gate when Harriet and Honey arrived. He jumped up and licked Harriet’s chin.

  “You’re not tied up any more,” cried Harriet as she patted him.

  Honey and Max sniffed each other.

  “I feel so terrible that I ran into the road,” blurted out Honey. “It’s my fault Gus died.” She stood there drooping.

  “Oh, Honey,” sighed Max. “It was Brutus who started it off. Even I felt frightened of him. No wonder you ran off. I don’t blame you. I’m just glad you’re around – at least I’ve still got you.”

  “I bet you two are talking about Gus,” said Harriet. “I wish I could understand. All I can see is that your tails are down and your eyes look sad. But there’s still the three of us. Honey and I can come down after school and we’ll all meet in the park when we go walking.

  “And,” she said, “guess what? I’ve found out who left bones in your letterboxes. It was Mr Jacobs’ sister, Mrs Bell – the lady in the Old House, and she wants us to visit her when she comes home from hospital.”

  Max sat looking at her with his head on one side, almost as if he understood.

  “Hey! You want me to throw the ball!” exclaimed Harriet. “Go find it!”

  Harriet threw the ball until her arm ached. She threw it hard and high, threw it backwards to fool Max, pretended to throw it so he ran hard after it and couldn’t find it, whirled round and round and suddenly let go so nobody knew where it went. Max and Honey chased it, skidded to a stop, rolled over and over, pretended to lose it, pounced on it and on each other, and played hard to catch. They knew Gus would never come ambling in again, and they rollicked around to push away the empty feeling. Harriet wanted to romp around with them, too, but she had to be careful about her knees and hand, so she stood laughing instead as Max and Honey ended up in a heap on the grass.

  Prancing poodles! thought Max, what a workout!

  “You dopey dogs,” said Harriet. “If only I could share you with Toby!”

  The dogs wandered, sniffing, over towards the hydrangea bushes.

  “At least it’s easier for me get out and about now,” said Max to Honey.

  “But you can’t do stuff on your own,” replied Honey. “I know I’ll never be as good as Gus, but do you think I could help you?”

  Max wagged his tail. “I thought
you’d never ask,” he grinned. “How will you manage to get out?”

  “They don’t tie me up during the day and I can squeeze under the side gate and get out through the hole in the Martins’ hedge. I’d have to be back by the time Harriet gets home, though.”

  They’re plotting, thought Harriet. I’m going to have to turn a blind eye. It’s just as well Mum’s starting a new job next week and won’t be around during the day.

  “We’d better turn over a new leaf and go out through the gate,” she said to Honey. “No more high-jinks, eh?”

  She winked at the two dogs and opened the gate.

  About the Author

  Jill Harris has had a lifelong love and respect for dogs and their sensitive and knowing association with humans. She wrote Missing Toby to share this experience with children – the ones who already love dogs, and the ones who have yet to discover that delight.

  Jill Harris’s first book, Sil, was published to high acclaim and won an Honour Award in the 2006 New Zealand Post Children’s Book Awards. She is a former English teacher and librarian who lives with her husband in Wellington, and she has two sons and four grandchildren.

  Also by the Author:

  Sil 2005

  Copyright

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without the written permission of Longacre Press and the author.