‘Quiet, Bracken!’
‘Pipe down, Sasha! PIPE DOWN, I SAY!’
‘Steady, Victor! Steady!’
There were labradors, retrievers, an Alsatian, a couple of Dalmatians and God knows what else, but all of them seemed to me to be on the huge and enormous side. What was wrong with a couple of Yorkshire terriers? I gulped in alarm, threw some clothes on and ran down to the kitchen.
Nick was at the kitchen window, taking in the canine scene in a somewhat tight-lipped fashion. The noise was unreal.
‘It’s the doggy bit today,’ I said nervously as I put the kettle on.
‘Really, Polly? I’d never have guessed.’
He grabbed hold of Badger who was leaping up at the back door, barking his head off in an ecstatic, demented fashion, totally over the moon that well over a dozen dogs had suddenly got it into their heads to come and play at his house today.
‘I’m putting Badger in his kennel,’ he said grimly, dragging a wildly protesting Badger in the opposite direction to that of his playmates. ‘Don’t want him joining in.’
I breathed deeply as he went, exhaling slowly. Oh Lord. I did hope everything was going to go smoothly. Perhaps I should go back to bed until it was all over? I made myself a piece of toast and Marmite and stood munching it at the window, watching as the dogs charged off towards the bottom field, dragging their minders behind them, still hysterical with excitement. A moment later there was a tap at the kitchen door. Sam stuck his head round.
‘I know they sound outrageous, but I promise you, when it comes to the crunch, they’re incredibly well behaved. They’ve been specially trained for this sort of thing.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said nervously. ‘They certainly make enough noise.’
‘They’re just a little overexcited, but don’t you worry, I’m well aware that you’ve got livestock here and we’re going to keep a really close eye on these hounds. All they’ve got to do is run across a field, leap a little stone wall and run towards some dog bowls. It’s a cinch. We might even get it in one take, then they’ll be back in the van and off home. You won’t even know they’ve been here.’ He grinned. ‘Smile, Polly.’
I grinned back. ‘OK, if you say so.’
‘I do. Coming down to watch? I can get you a VIP seat.’
‘Sure, why not?’
‘See you later then, don’t be too long.’ He winked, then disappeared round the door.
Suddenly any misgivings I might previously have had about this morning’s activity were totally forgotten. I shoved the toast in my mouth and ran upstairs in a flurry of excitement. A frantic dressing and undressing saga then took place until the bed was piled high with clothes and I was dressed in the very first outfit I’d originally thought of. I stared at my reflection. Right, make-up. I drew a line under my eyes – quite carefully for me – then added lipstick, blusher and – hang on. I eyed my reflection guiltily as the blusher brush skimmed over my cheekbones. What are you doing, Polly? I tried to meet my eyes.
Nothing, I retorted sharply, snapping the compact shut, I’m simply making the best of myself, anything wrong with that? And yes, OK, I’m enjoying myself too, anything wrong with that either? I raised my eyebrows quizzically at my reflection. God, they could do with a pluck. I hurriedly pulled some tweezers from a drawer and launched a frenzied attack, taking too much from one and having to even up the other, then taking too much from that one – and so it went on until my eyebrows had all but disappeared. It was an absorbing, painful and time-consuming exercise and by the time I’d finished and looked out of the window again I was surprised to see that the dogs were already lined up in the bottom field, ready for the off.
There they sat, all in a row with their minders standing behind them, looking, I had to admit, remarkably quiet and well behaved. Even so, I’d be glad when it was all over.
I grabbed a jacket, ran downstairs and was about to go out when I decided I couldn’t possibly take another step until I’d had a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I gulped down a scalding mug of Nescafé and was just taking the last drag of nicotine down to my Docksiders when the most terrific howling made me dash to the window.
The scene that greeted my eyes is one I hope never to see again as long as I live. First I dropped my cigarette then my jaw. I gaped incredulously. A dozen or so supposedly impeccably behaved dogs were indeed charging. But they were charging the wrong way. They were charging this way, my way, my house way. A sea of rolling eyes, open mouths, flapping ears and lolling tongues was galloping towards me, a howling mass of totally out-of-control and extremely mad dogs, and behind them, furiously giving chase, were the minders, pounding along, waving their arms, shaking their fists and making almost as much noise, but all to no avail.
Because there was no stopping these dogs. They moved as one, as a back-to-the-wilds pack, pounding along hell-for-leather and destroying everything that got in their way: hedges, fences, gates – you name it, they crashed through it, scattering chickens, geese and ducks, and leaving a cloud of feathers in their wake. I couldn’t move. I was literally rooted to the spot, paralysed with fear and disbelief.
They’d almost made it to the garden, just one more fence and – sorry, one more broken fence – and they were in, it was the work of a moment. Through they crashed, and behind them crashed the minders, still waving their arms about and screaming futilely into the wind at the tops of their voices. In the midst of this second, human pack, I spotted a familiar figure. Nick was running like the blazes, fists clenched, face purple with fury. It was a terrifying sight. My hand flew to my mouth. ‘Shit!’ My intestines very nearly obeyed, they certainly curdled nastily. I clenched my buttocks guardedly.
My first, and on reflection probably best inclination was to hide. I looked around wildly – what about the cupboard under the sink? Or maybe I had time to make it down to the cellar? I could stay there for days, weeks even, sneaking up at night for food and water. Nick would never find me. I dithered, but stupidly resisted the temptation, and instead – mad impulsive fool that I am – darted to the back door.
As I opened it I screamed and leaped about a foot in the air as a small, bedraggled creature raced in, swept over my feet and fled through the kitchen. Christ, a rat! I scuttled quickly outside and ran down the path to the vegetable garden.
The marauding dogs had reached the front lawn now, or, rather, the rose garden. I could see the whites of their eyes as they galloped recklessly through it, scattering roses and trampling carefully tended lavender bushes, madness in their eyes, rose petals and saliva dripping copiously from their mouths. I waved my arms around timidly; surely they’d stop when they saw me?
‘Steady, boys, steady now!’ I quavered nervously.
They didn’t seem to be steadying at all, if anything they seemed to be gaining momentum. Any minute now I’d be mown down, flattened by a pack of marauding dogs, but I had to stand my ground. Better to die with paw prints on my face than to face the wrath of Nick, whose livid purple features were even now bearing down on me. If anything, it was a more terrifying sight than the dogs. As he crashed through the rose garden he yelled something about a door, but I couldn’t quite hear.
‘WHAT?’ I yelled back.
The dogs shot past me, missing me by inches, and in their midst I spotted a familiar black figure, pink tongue hanging out, galloping joyously – Badger. For a moment he gave a naughty glance in my direction, then, with mad rolling eyes, thundered on by with the others.
‘I SAID SHUT THE BACK DOOR!’ screamed Nick, as he raced up the lawn.
I swung round but – too late. The last of the bunch, a panting golden retriever, flashed inside and out of sight. I moaned low. Ooohhhh … divorce. Nick shot past me.
‘WHY DIDN’T YOU SHUT THE BLOODY DOOR?’
‘I – I didn’t hear you, didn’t think …’ I stammered, but he’d gone.
He tore into the kitchen followed by the minders. One of them grabbed my arm as he went past.
‘Pol
ly!’
‘Bruce!’ He was as white as a sheet, his eyes wide with fear.
‘Have you seen Munchkin?’ he shrieked.
‘Munchkin? No, not unless she was amongst that lot – Bruce, what the hell’s going on? They’ve all gone absolutely crazy! Nick’s going to kill me, it’s going to be all my fault, I just know it is!’
‘It’s Munchkin,’ wailed Bruce, wringing his hands, ‘she’s on heat and I completely forgot! I took her down to watch the big doggy-boys doing their stuff, thought she’d really enjoy it, you see, and – and they just went berserk! One whiff and they completely forgot what they were supposed to be doing; they just wanted to get at her! She jumped out of my arms, poor mite, and fled – she even swam through a stream – and now I don’t know where she is, probably being raped and pillaged by one of those brutish hounds at this very moment! Oh God, I can’t bear it!’ He wrung his hands in despair.
‘Oh! Oh wait, hang on a minute! I thought it was a rat but it must have been Munchkin, yes it was, soaked through – she’s in the house! Quick!’
We ran inside where a trail of destruction greeted us. Chairs and tables had been tipped over, vases were smashed, pictures were askew, plants were spewing out of their pots and carpets were covered in mud. I felt physically sick and very nearly made for the cellar right there and then, but somehow I managed to get a grip and follow Bruce and the paw marks as he raced upstairs towards the frantic howling and baying that was coming from the spare bedroom.
‘Oh, Munchkin! Oh my poor baby, Daddy’s coming!’ he gasped as we tore down the corridor and flew into the room at the end of the passage.
In this very small spare bedroom, about fourteen large dogs were going completely demented. They’d got a wardrobe surrounded and were barking and howling like crazy, scratching frantically at the carpet, climbing on top of each other, desperately trying to shove their noses underneath. Nick and one or two burly women had most of them by their collars and were doing their best to haul them off.
‘I think there’s a rat or something under the wardrobe,’ yelled Nick above the noise, dragging a couple of dogs away. ‘I had a look and I can see a couple of eyes. I’ll get my gun.’
‘NO!’ shrieked Bruce, as he fell on Nick’s arm. ‘No, no! Don’t! It’s Munchkin!’
Nick frowned. ‘Munchkin?’
‘My little dog!’ Bruce looked around quickly to see who was listening before confiding quietly, ‘It’s – it’s her special time of the month, you see.’
‘Her what?’
‘Her delicate ladies’ time. You know,’ he whispered, ‘her cursey-wursey.’
Nick stared at him. ‘Are you trying to tell me she’s on heat?’
‘Exactly.’
Nick groaned. ‘Oh, Bruce, it’s a wonder she hasn’t been raped – she’s sending these boys absolutely crazy!’
Bruce tightened his grip on Nick’s arm. ‘You don’t think she has been raped, do you? You don’t think one of these brutes has had his evil, wicked way with her?’ he whimpered, his voice cracking.
Nick regarded the sex-crazed hounds surrounding us, still baying their heads off.
‘Well, it would be an interesting combination, wouldn’t it? What d’you fancy, Bruce, Chihuahua-Dalmatian or Chihuahua-Great Dane?’
‘Oh God!’ gasped Bruce, clutching his mouth. ‘My poor darling!’
‘Relax,’ went on Nick darkly, ‘unless one of these boys had the nous to hoist her up on to a chair and slip it in before she shot under the wardrobe I think it’s highly unlikely.’ He turned to the minders. ‘Come on, let’s get them out of here. Polly, you could lend a hand too if you can tear yourself away from the curtains.’
Oh God, he’d spotted me. I crept meekly out from my hiding place and grabbed a couple of labradors. Nick found a piece of rope and we managed to make some leads so the minders could drag them, protesting wildly, downstairs and back to the fields.
Bruce then spent half an hour lying on the floor trying to coax a terrified Munchkin out from under the wardrobe.
‘Come on, Munchy, come on, Boofles, come to Daddy! The nasty rough boys have all gone home now, come to Daddy-kins!’
I would have liked to have stayed safely up in the bedroom with Bruce and Munchkin but Nick jerked his head curtly in the direction of the door and I meekly fell in behind him. We walked downstairs in silence and surveyed the mayhem around us. My spouse’s lips were tightening by the moment and a look of furious horror and outrage was passing over his face. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to quell it. I was right.
‘This is intolerable, Polly,’ he seethed, ‘absolutely intolerable!’
‘But, Nick, it wasn’t my fault,’ I quavered pathetically. ‘I mean, Munchkin is Bruce’s dog; she’s nothing to do with me, all I did was –’
‘All you did was leave the bloody door open, which I think you’ll agree was really quite a contributing factor to the destruction of our house,’ he seethed. ‘If I were you, Polly, I wouldn’t say another word on the subject, because I have a feeling I may not be able to control my temper, and I don’t want to have to kill you.’
Grateful for the warning, I confined myself to surveying the debris. I dreaded to think how much it might cost to repair, but in the light of Nick’s last remark thought it best not to broach the subject. Josh did it for me. He came racing through the front hall and skidded to a halt at the foot of the stairs.
‘I’ve just heard,’ he gasped. ‘I’m terribly sorry – this is appalling!’
‘Isn’t it just,’ muttered Nick darkly.
‘Now look, don’t worry about a thing, it’ll all be put straight in a twinkling. I’ll get on to our insurance company straight away, they’ll be round here just as soon as I’ve briefed them.’
‘They’d better be,’ said Nick curtly. ‘That vase down there in a million pieces was a very old Royal Doulton.’
‘Everything will be replaced – I give you my word.’
‘Something like that is irreplaceable.’
‘Oh dear.’ Josh scratched his head. ‘I am extremely sorry, but it really wasn’t our fault. Apparently Bruce’s little bitch got them all sexed up and –’
‘So I gather,’ snapped Nick, picking up a small tripod table and setting it straight. ‘Well, please see what can be done about the superficial mess and get the house tidied up. I’ll look into the more serious damage outside. Excuse me while I go and round up any animals that might have escaped to the next village and mend a few miles of fencing.’ He stalked off, leaving Josh and me to cringe deeply at each other.
In the event, it was only the Royal Doulton vase that had actually been irrevocably smashed. Thankfully, everything else could be picked up, put back together, sponged down or washed. I dragged a much-scolded and sheepish Badger back to his kennel, tying him up firmly this time. He gave me a pathetic, pleading look but I didn’t melt. If I was in the dog house, so was he. Various crew members arrived to clean the stair carpet, wash down the walls and generally pick up the pieces. Pippa and I rolled up our sleeves and set to work in the kitchen. We’d just finished washing the kitchen floor when Sam stuck his head round the door. His eyes were shining and a mischievous grin lit up his face.
‘Where’s the irate husband?’ he whispered.
‘He’s gone to cool down.’
‘Is he absolutely livid?’
‘Steaming.’
‘Out for blood?’
I giggled. ‘Mine in particular, but probably yours too.’
‘Oh hell.’ He crept in, unable to keep the radiance from his smile. ‘I’m terribly sorry, dreadful thing to happen, but the thing is, you see, we got the most incredible shot of the dogs! Tony managed to swing the camera round and we got them charging hell-for-leather. It looked absolutely amazing on the monitor, you should have seen it.’
‘I did,’ I said grimly, ‘together with the whites of their eyes. I was on the receiving end of the magic.’
‘Gosh, how awful, poor you. I am
sorry.’ Actually, he did look genuinely sorry. ‘And I gather they made a bit of a mess in here – anything I can do to help? Sponge a few walls? Wash the floor, perhaps?’ He looked innocently at the now gleaming, damp flagstones. ‘Oh dear, I see I’m too late.’
I grinned. ‘Just a touch. Don’t worry, everything’s under control now. To be honest, it looked worse than it was.’
‘Oh, what a relief. Well, I just came to tell you that since we got the charging scene in the can so quickly we’ll be off pretty soon. We’re leaving Bruce behind for a couple of days to tie up a few loose ends – he wants to see his mother anyway – and he’ll liaise with the insurance company for you. He’ll be staying in Helston if you need him, but the rest of us will be getting out of your hair and shooting back to London in’ – he looked at his watch – ‘oh, about an hour’s time, I suppose.’
‘Oh!’ My spirits sank into my boots. ‘So soon?’
He smiled ruefully. I could feel Pippa’s eyes on me. ‘’Fraid so, but we’ll see you again in London, won’t we? You’re still on for that?’
‘Oh yes, of course! Yes, I’ll see you then.’ My spirits made a miraculous recovery, rocketing from my ankles to my armpits in seconds. I was all smiles again, transparent or what?
He grinned. ‘Good, look forward to it. See you then, Polly, and thanks again for the hospitality.’
‘My pleasure,’ I whispered as he pecked me on the cheek.
I watched as he disappeared round the back door and down through the garden.
Pippa stood up, put her bucket and mop in the broom cupboard, pulled her sleeves down and folded her arms in a businesslike manner. She turned to face me.
‘He’s married, Polly,’ she said grimly.
I stared at her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ I gasped. ‘So am I, happily, thanks very much!’ I could feel myself blushing.
‘I know, and that’s why I don’t want you to spoil things. I know you’re a bit bored, but don’t – you know – dabble, will you, Poll? It’s simply not worth it.’
I gaped. ‘Bloody hell!’ I spluttered eventually. ‘That’s rich coming from you!’
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