“Good dog,” he said, then realized that, to Star, “good dog” meant that he’d done what he was asked to do and could stop doing it now. Star was up and trotting to his side. Archie picked him up and sat him on the blanket again.
“You’re supposed to stay stayed,” he said. “Stay!”
Star began to follow him. He turned.
“Stay!” he said as firmly as he could. “Stay!”
This time Star stayed put, but Archie hated leaving him. It seemed cruel. But Star would have to get used to staying up there alone.
“Ma,” he asked when he was back in the kitchen, “will it cost a lot of money to feed him?”
Ma smiled. “I daresay we can afford him if he’s not too fussy,” she said.
“Only, I want to pay,” he said. “I’ve got pocket money. I want to be a proper owner.”
She shrugged. “It won’t come to much,” she said. “Neither here nor there.”
“But I want to,” insisted Archie.
“You’re as daft as he is,” she said. “We’ll see what he costs to feed, but it’ll be no more than pennies. How are you going to walk him without anyone seeing?”
“Take him early in the morning and late at night, after dark,” he suggested.
“After dark? That thing could get lost in broad daylight. And gamekeeper would have something to say if he reckoned somebody was tramping about at night.”
“Then I’ll take him right away behind the gardens, through the spinney and over the road into Little Keld Wood,” he said. “I’d take him there wrapped in my coat so nobody could see him. Or I could…” he stopped and listened. “Is that Flora?”
Somewhere upstairs, somebody was moaning. That wasn’t Flora! There was a whimper, and Archie took the stairs two at a time with Ma following.
Star had had enough of sitting and staying. He’d waited for a long time, lonely, confused and in a strange place. He was unhappy, and saying so.
“Come here, Star,” said Archie. Star ran to him at once, tail wagging, putting his paws up on Archie’s knees.
“Good boy,” said Archie. “Good dog.”
Star turned his head and licked Archie’s wrist, and in that moment everything about Star made sense to Archie. He saw him the way Master Ted had seen him. It didn’t matter that Star was little and daft, and as mongrel as any village lad’s dog. He was just a small dog who needed a good friend to look after him.
“You’re a grand dog, you,” he said. “You’re the best.”
Ma shook her head. “We’ll have to swear our Jenn to secrecy,” she said. “I don’t know what we’ll do about Flora. Just yet there’s only us can understand a word she says, but one of those words is ‘dog’.”
Later that day Archie put on an old jacket of Dad’s and stuffed a handful of broken biscuit into the pocket. The jacket was threadbare and too big for him, but there was room to smuggle Star underneath it. They were across the road and deep into Little Keld Wood before he put the dog down.
It was a long time since Archie had been in this wood, and the scent of damp grass and growing trees woke up his love for it. There had been a time when he and Will were forbidden to play here because they always came home with torn trousers from climbing trees and mud on the seats of their trousers from sliding down the bank. Wet feet, too, if they couldn’t stop at the bottom. They were magic, these woods, like the woods in a story. He knew where the badger sett was, and where the heron fished. In May the air would be heady with bluebells, and the wide overgrowing rhododendrons made caves were he and Will used to hide or chase each other.
“And it’s somewhere you probably never went with you-know-who,” said Archie. “So maybe you won’t be looking for him here. You have a good run.”
Star began to sniff and search. There were trails to follow. He liked this new and fascinating place, and his curiosity woke up for the first time since Master Ted had gone away. He sniffed. There were leaves and grass and a scent of badger and fox – and there was a stick, just the kind that he liked! With difficulty, because it was big and awkward to carry, he took it to Archie to throw.
With every throw of the stick, Star enjoyed this game more. Each time Archie threw harder and further and each time Star brought it back like a trophy, dropped it at his feet, and watched with bright eyes for the next throw. Because Star was happy, so was Archie.
“We’re a great team, aren’t we Star?” said Archie, picking up the stick for what might have been the tenth time. He realized that he’d stopped thinking about Master Ted. “You ready?”
When the game had been going on for about half an hour and Star had had enough time to run off some energy, Archie took the stick from him and held it behind his back. Star seemed to know what was expected, so he sat down.
“Sit!” ordered Archie. Star was doing it anyway, but it would help him to connect the word with the action. After they’d practised this a few times, Archie tried “sit and stay”, walking a little further away from Star all the time. Half the time Star was only interested in finding more sticks, but after a lot of patience and broken biscuits he would stay, sitting up and alert and waiting for Archie to call him. Archie whistled, too, but this time it wasn’t Master Ted’s whistle. He’d seen what that did to Star before, and couldn’t bear it to happen again so instead he whistled one long note and one short one, knowing that to begin with it wouldn’t mean anything to Star – but in time it would. They were in this for life, after all.
“It’s been long enough now, Star,” said Archie at last. “Come on, then. Heel! Are you bringing your stick home?”
He bundled Star under the jacket before they crossed the road. They were nearly at Gardener’s Cottage when he heard the trundling of a wheelbarrow and slipped behind a potting shed. One of the gardeners was on his way past with a barrow full of potted plants. Archie waited until he was out of the way before running down the path, past Ma’s poultry shed, across the yard and in at the back door. A wheelbarrow would be a good way of moving Star about in future, if the dog would only stay in it.
“Dry its paws,” said Ma quietly when they got back.“Look at you, Archie, you’ve got mud all down your front.”
Star stood patiently to be towelled, then trotted to the front door and sat down as if it was time to go home to the Hall. When nobody opened it and Archie put a bowl of water on the floor he remembered that he was thirsty, and would be glad of a drink. A very pleasant smell was filtering into the air, too, a smell of meat cooking.
A small creature was on the floor, somebody not much bigger than he was. Star, already confused, sniffed at it, and drew back nervously when it reached out to touch him. It smelt human, but there was a sort of milky puppy scent about it too. He retreated away from it and watched Archie. Nothing about this place was familiar to him, but he felt safe with Archie and watched him all the time, getting up to follow him if he was out of sight. When Archie went outside to the privy, Star whined at the door. Jenn laughed.
“That dog loves our Archie,” she said.
“There’s no dog here,” said Ma firmly, and put a few spoonsful of mince and potatoes to one side to cool down. Archie had barely opened the door to come back in again when Star leapt at him for joy, his paws on Archie’s knees and his tail wagging furiously. Archie was back!
“My word,” said Ma. “I never thought I’d see that. Reckon he’s just relieved to see somebody he knows. Wash your hands, the pair of you, tea’s nearly ready. Archie, that mince in the bowl, that’s for somebody who isn’t here.”
Star sniffed uncertainly at the food. He liked Archie even more for feeding him, but couldn’t quite understand why he was eating here, and not at the Hall. He sat back warily. The food was hot and didn’t have the familiar smell of the Hall kitchens, but when he had tasted it the instinct to eat overcame him so that by the time Archie took the bowl away he had licked it clean and then licked it
all round again, just for the taste. Then he sat at the front door wagging his tail. He had had a very exciting day out, and was ready for Her Ladyship to take him home. But she didn’t come. Well, Archie would do for now. He felt safe with Archie.
After dark Archie checked to make sure that nobody was about then clipped on Star’s lead and took him for a last walk before bedtime. Star pulled eagerly towards the Hall and barked.
“Shh!” Archie put his hand in front of the dog’s face and glanced round to see if anyone had heard. Star stopped barking but he was annoyed and tried to dodge round the hand, determined to find his way home.
“Daft lummox,” muttered Archie, and picked him up. In future he’d just have to take Star round the back of the cottage for a wee last thing at night. Soon it would be time to go to bed, and tonight Archie was looking forward to bedtime. Star would be sleeping in his room beside him. But as soon as they were back indoors Star pressed against the door and whimpered to be out again.
“Oh, bless him!” cried Ma. “He thinks he still lives at the Hall. Reckon we can’t expect him to learn fast.” She offered him some stale bread, but Star didn’t want bread. He wanted to go home to Ted’s room. When Archie called him upstairs he refused to step away from the door, not for food, not even for a stick.
“Can’t sit there all night,” said Archie at last. He gathered up Star in his arms, carried him upstairs and put him down on the blanket, but Star ran straight to the bedroom door and whimpered to be out.
Archie had had a long day, and had been outside for most of it. In spite of Star’s fretting he was drifting off to sleep when he heard the pattering of paws, then a scrape and scuffle. Star was pushing and pulling the blanket to make it comfortable. He fell asleep to the sound of Star’s quiet breathing and the odd little snuffle in his sleep and woke next morning to Star climbing on his bed and licking his face.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you,” said Archie sleepily, but he was smiling. He draped an arm over the dog and drifted back to sleep until Star scrabbled at the door to be out.
Star had woken him up so early that by the time Archie took the vegetables to the Hall it felt like lunchtime. At the back door he met Aggie the kitchenmaid on her way out, carrying a dog basket.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
Aggie rubbed the back of her hand across her red-rimmed eyes.
“It’s little Star’s bed,” she said. “Poor little mite. Her Ladyship says she can’t bear to see this bed again and it’s to go straight in the rubbish heap. He even had one of Master Ted’s boots in there, so she kept that. I don’t know how your father could bear to do it.”
Archie took the basket from her. “I’ll put it in the rubbish for you, Aggie,” he said.
At the sight of his own basket Star felt at home for the first time since he came to Gardener’s Cottage. He scrambled up the stairs after Archie, reaching up for the basket with both paws because Archie couldn’t put it down fast enough for him.
He had a good scrape about. Ted’s boot was gone but he still had the pillow, a sock that he’d hidden in there, and the towel. With Archie, his basket and his tokens of Ted, Star felt he could manage for now. Just until Ted came back.
The next evening Archie poured a little lamp oil into a saucer and added some soot scraped from the fireplace. Star was used to being groomed and fussed, and didn’t mind having his ears and paws rubbed as Archie worked the paste into his fur. At last Archie sat back to review his work, but he was disappointed. The idea of all this messy, sooty stuff had been to disguise Star in case anyone saw him, but now he just looked like the same dog with a few dark grey patches. There was no disguising Star’s face, his expression, his way of watching you and wagging his tail because he was expecting something good to happen. If he opened his mouth it would be Star’s bark, too, and at the end of it all Archie was sootier than the dog. Ma folded her arms and looked at Star with her head on one side.
“That Star,” she said, “that dog of Master Ted’s that your father put to sleep, he was one of a whole litter. Four or five of them, I heard, all mongrel pups. I don’t know where the others went, but I reckon they would all look much the same.”
For a moment Archie didn’t know why she was saying this, but then he understood. “That’s right,” he said. “This one looks like Master Ted’s dog ’cause it’s his brother from the same litter. This one’s got more markings on it.” He worked more soot into the mark on Star’s head. “And he’s called…”
He couldn’t shout “Star” anywhere on the Ashlings estate, but he’d need a name that sounded like “Star” so that the dog would still recognize it. He began to work his way through the alphabet, and didn’t have to go far.
“Carr. If anyone asks he’s called Carr, after the family.”
“But you’ll still have to keep him secret, son,” said Ma. “Not everybody would fall for it. They’d be more likely to wonder why you’ve suddenly got a dog when the family have just lost one. You only tell that story if you have to. And you’ll have to teach it to keep quiet.”
Archie didn’t mind telling a lie to protect Star, but Ma helping him in it didn’t seem right. Mothers weren’t supposed to help you lie. But then Ma went back to pretending the dog didn’t exist, and Archie and Star grew into a pattern. It was easy to exercise Star in Little Keld Wood, far from the Hall. The only problem was getting him there, but he didn’t mind being tucked under Archie’s coat or wheeled in a barrow and covered with a bit of tarpaulin.
Within a week of Star coming to Archie, the new whistle was taking effect. Archie would watch the dog race off through the woods for the pure fun of running and veer round at the sound of the one-long-one-short whistle. Getting Star to come to heel was easy, but getting him to stay there for more than a few paces was all but impossible. He had made a lead out of a bit of rope, but Star didn’t appear to understand leads, or the idea that he was meant to walk forward on them.
“You have to learn it,” said Archie one afternoon. “I can’t let you go running about off the lead anywhere else but here, ever. You have to get used to it. Star – I mean, Carr – Heel!”
He began to walk, and Star followed obediently at his heel until he caught sight of a butterfly on Archie’s right and lurched at it. Archie tripped over the lead and fell sprawling in the moss. A second time he saw a rabbit and tugged so suddenly on the lead that the rope sheared painfully across Archie’s palm, and a third time he tried to dodge behind Archie to pick up a stone. Finally, Archie sat down.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said, not for the first time. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” Every day he said these words to Star, and every day he knew that he didn’t mean them. Sitting with moss stains on his clothes and a graze on his hand, he ruffled Star’s ears. Star could never be more trouble than he was worth. He was worth everything, even if he never did learn to walk to heel.
“What did I ever do before?” said Archie as Star rolled over to have his tummy tickled. “What did I do before I had you?”
Star learned to be quiet when Archie held up his hand. He would sit watching Archie, enjoying this new game of being silent, waiting for a bit of biscuit as a reward. But why did he have to be silent when Archie came back from work? Star would sense the time. He couldn’t understand why Ma shut doors so that he couldn’t look out of a window but he knew when Archie was due home and sat hopefully, listening for his step, his tail wagging hard.
Archie had never loved homecomings so much. Before the kitchen door shut behind him Star would be in his arms, licking and wriggling as if Archie was all any dog could want in the world. Nothing had ever made Archie feel as good as this, nothing. Star was discovering life again, splashing about in the joy of being a dog, and the splashes reached Archie.
“You’re a good dog,” he would say as Star jumped down from his arms, turned round, and put his paws up to
Archie’s knees. “Best dog in the world, you.”
It took weeks, but Star began to find that life waiting for Ted was not only possible, but even happy sometimes. Archie was learning that, too. In Little Keld Wood Star discovered the places Archie had always loved. There was always something new, a scent to follow or a bird to chase, and Archie was always there with him to whistle and throw sticks, and run through the trees beside him. He loved it. His energy returned, and so did his appetite. He splashed in the beck and scampered over the forest floor. He learned to love the fireside at Gardener’s Cottage, where he would dry off after a splash in the beck. Archie would carefully sweep up white hairs from the hearthrug and add a little more sooty paste to Star’s thick coat.
Often, by the time they came back from the wood, Star would be trailing sticky goose-grass and have burrs in his ears. The first time this happened Archie found an old hairbrush with a broken handle and tried to groom him, but as Star wouldn’t keep still and tried to eat the brush it wasn’t a great success. Star seemed to groom himself, though. Somehow he always ended up clean.
By the end of the first week, Star had stopped crying for the Hall. If anyone came to the door, somebody – usually Ma – would hide him upstairs before opening it and now that his basket was in there, he quite liked Archie’s room. He started taking Archie’s socks to bed, too. Jenn, who had finished a scarf for a soldier and was learning to knit socks, made him a woollen pom-pom which he carried around even though it made him sneeze. But Archie was the one who fed and walked him.
Sometimes when a walk was over and he was wheeling a barrow home with Star hidden under a tarpaulin, Archie felt guilty. He was happy, and he shouldn’t be, not when Master Ted was dead. He could still feel the raw place in his heart where Master Ted had been torn away, and yet he could be happy, too, with Star. It was puzzling, but that’s the way it was.
Archie's War Page 6