by A Long Walk in the High Hills- The Story of a House, a Dog
By the time we’ve finished eating I’m ragged. All I want is to make the best exit I can with a dog that’s turned as nervy as me but Gina is determined Kendi has come all this way and has to have supper. ‘She is so thin,’ she says. So her cook brings a fine plate of steak, chopped, which she places before Kendi in the corner of the room. In a second, in a couple of gulps, the lot’s gone, and Kendi looks up as though to say, this is more like it. She’s now, of course, not for leaving. Over camomile tea in the drawing room Kendi makes herself at home, crashing out, eyes closed tight on the rug near the fire. When it’s finally long past our bedtime and she can’t hang back any longer with her new best friends, the spaniels by the fire, she reluctantly musters a well-mannered goodbye, eases herself into the space under the dashboard and sinks into a deep sleep of exhaustion, as I navigate our way home. For the first time ever she’s not a bit car sick.
After this my confidence in what is to become my dog for good grows daily. Gina phones to say how adorable Kendi is and altogether I feel a little less anxious about the future if someone as discerning as Gina can see the potential in her.
My leaving the island coincides, for the first time, with there being no dramas in the valley. Lauren is back and picking up her life and I’ve asked Nico to caretake my house while I am away. He says he will enjoy walking up daily to check on things and will keep the garden tidy and the pool clean in spite of his physical disabilities. I think it will be good for him to work like this. I pray he doesn’t go and get another dog. Gunther has become a farmer again and has one of the best vegetable plots in the district. Francine now smiles when she sees me and I reciprocate. There is even talk of the road being repaired, finally. As for Emmy Lou, well she is enjoying electricity after thirty years without, so there is much to keep everyone out of mischief.
On the day of our departure, it’s windy and threatening rain. We’re travelling light; I have a few essentials in a bag and a bottle of water for Kendi. She has had her last jab and has to be out of the country before it wears off, so very early, after closing the shutters and locking the door, we walk determinedly down to a taxi which will take us to Palma and the private air terminal to meet up with Glenda. We have a long, long journey ahead.