One Dog and His Boy

by Iva Ibbotson

  “Li-Chee,” said Nini, and now she did not kneel to him, but scooped him up in her arms.

  Then Mick came over and Pippa gave him the note that Hal had written.

  “We made it all right, thanks to you, and your friends,” she said, and Mick said it was nothing, and that Nini had been quite different since the night they came.

  “She talks now and she sort of fits in. It’s great.”

  But the difficult part was still to come. Mick took them to Mrs Platt’s office, but they had to be careful because the house mother knew nothing about the night in the boiler room.

  Pippa said they were looking for a home for the Peke.

  “We remembered that Nini liked him so much when she came to the circus. But perhaps there’s a rule against having animals here?”

  Mrs Platt said no, there wasn’t. In fact, at the last meeting of the committee it had been suggested that the children might have a dog. “There was a very nasty character in a white van out there the other day,” she said. “Sat there for hours. I thought then a dog might see him off.” She went to the window. “My goodness, that’s not much of a watchdog, though. It looks like a little rat. Is that the one in the circus act? What’s happened to his hair?”

  Kayley looked at Pippa, who was the family liar.

  “A horrible boy cut it because he was jealous,” said Pippa. “Our dog act was better than his.”

  Mrs Platt was shocked. “People don’t know how to discipline children these days.” She looked out of the window again. “But really, I don’t think—”

  She broke off. Li-Chee, who had been sitting on Nini’s lap, suddenly raced down the steps, barking at the top of his voice.

  “It’s the newspaper delivery boy,” said Mrs Platt. “Well, I reckon I was wrong about him not being a watchdog.”

  “Pekes are amazing like that,” said Kayley. “They’re lion dogs, bred to protect emperors and give notice of danger.”

  “Are they then?” said Mrs Platt, looking at the newspaper boy, who had dropped the paper and run back to the gate. “Well, well – I guess he can stay.”

  The last thing Kayley and Pippa saw as they drove away was Li-Chee sitting on the top of the steps. Nini was on one side of him and Mick on the other, but Li-Chee’s paws were stretched out in front of him and he held his head high.

  Just so had his ancestors sat and guarded the palaces of emperors. And just so sat Li-Chee now, protecting Greystoke House.

  24

  Albina Grovels

  Albina was on the floor on her hands and knees, making odd noises, clucking noises, then cooing noises, then wheedling noises. The floor was not the carpeted floor of her London house, it was the rough-boarded floor of the cottage, covered in a worn old rug.

  “Please, Fleck, please. I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it. Please come out and let’s be friends.”

  Hal’s parents had arrived an hour earlier. Hal had allowed himself to be embraced, but only politely. And Fleck had taken one look at Albina, growled horribly, and vanished under the sofa.

  “It’s no good,” said Hal. “He’ll never forget what you did.”

  “Can’t you make him come out?” begged Albina.

  “No. And if I could I wouldn’t,” said Hal.

  Donald had gone out with his parents to look at the boat and Hal and his mother were alone.

  Albina tried again. Marnie had given her a bone and she waggled it back and forward under the sofa but Fleck ignored it. Grovelling on the floor, she went on making what she hoped were wooing noises. Then she put her hand under the sofa and pulled it back with a cry as Fleck’s teeth fastened on her fingers.

  “Oh, what shall I do?” she cried, getting to her feet. “Look at my tights, they’re ruined. And my skirt.” She went over to the table and sat down. Then she let her head fall forward on to her hands and began to sob.

  For a few moments Hal, sitting opposite, just let her cry. Then something horrible happened. The anger he had felt with his parents began to get weaker … and weaker still. He missed it badly, this rage which had kept him going on his adventure. But there was nothing to be done about it; it was gone. His mother had done a wicked thing; she was foolish and misguided – but she was his mother.

  He put an arm round Albina.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s over. It’s all right.”

  And at that moment Fleck came out from under the sofa and trotted over to the table. It was “forgiving time”, it seemed, and he flopped down between Albina and Hal, and yawned, and went to sleep.

  Later that afternoon, Hal went for a walk along the dunes with his father. The last week, when he’d not known whether his son was dead or alive, had changed Donald Fenton. It was as though Hal’s love for his grandparents made him see his old home as he had seen it when he was a boy. He no longer felt like sneering at the shabby cottage, the old boat with its temperamental engine. While Hal was with his mother, Donald had been out and emptied the lobster pots, and helped Alec fix the pump on the Peggotty. It was a screwdriver which Donald now wore behind his ear, not a gadget connecting him with New York.

  “You really like it up here, don’t you?” said Donald.

  “Yes, I really do. And so does Fleck.”

  Donald sighed. Fleck was here to stay, but he was not going to make life easier.

  “What about Okelands? We took a lot of trouble getting you in there.”

  “I’m not going to boarding school,” said Hal. “I told you, I’m not leaving Fleck. What I’d like to do is stay here and live with my grandparents. There’s a school in Seaville.”

  “Yes, I know. I was there for seven years.”

  Hal looked up at his father. He was staring out at the sea and he looked stern – or was it sad?

  “You like it so much better here than being with us? Than being at home?” asked Donald, and Hal could not help hearing the hurt in his voice.

  “It’s not exactly like that,” said Hal. “I wouldn’t like never to be at home again.” He thought of the blonde girl in the park, and Joel, the school friend he’d been pretending to stay with, and now of course there was Pippa. And his parents, who had got everything so wrong but who were trying now. Perhaps in their own way they had always tried.

  “Could I stay here for another month? I’ve missed so much school anyway. Then I’ll get Fleck trained.”

  Donald turned to his son and smiled with relief. There wasn’t going be a battle. Hal was going to come home.

  “I don’t see why not,” he said. “I’ll come and fetch you, and spend a few days. It’s time I had a break.”

  But people do not change completely, however hard they try.

  “I’d like to buy you something really nice, Hal. It can cost as much as you like. I mean it – the sky’s the limit.”

  Hal looked at him for a long time.

  “All I ever wanted was a dog,” he said.

  But as Donald’s face fell, Hal had an idea. “Actually, there is something I’d like. I’d like it a lot, but it’s not exactly for me. It’s for Pippa’s family. I’d never have made it here if it wasn’t for Pippa. They’re really hard up. If you could help them, then perhaps they could start up something for themselves. Kayley shouldn’t be working for Mr Carker anyway. He’s an awful man. Maybe they wouldn’t have to know where the money came from?”

  Donald nodded.

  “Consider it done,” he said, and they turned and made their way back to the cottage.

  25

  What Happened to the Carkers

  Kayley sat in her little office at Easy Pets. She had been working since seven in the morning, making a register, alone and without pay in the deserted building, and she was absolutely exhausted.

  Just a week after she brought Pippa back from Northumberland, Kayley had come to work as usual and found that the Carkers had disappeared. They had put in such a ridiculous insurance claim for the missing dogs that the accountants had started to look into their affairs, and it
was found that they had been cheating on their income tax for years and years.

  So the charming couple had fled to Spain, owing Kayley her wages and leaving only enough food for a couple of days for the dogs.

  Fortunately, a charity which cared for animals in distress had stepped in to try and find homes for the abandoned dogs. Because the Easy Pets dogs were highly bred and had been well looked after, plenty of people had come forward to offer to have them, but Kayley had absolutely insisted on inspecting every single home to make sure that it was suitable for the dogs she had cared for and knew so well. Now she only had to check the list of new owners and the job was done.

  Well, almost done. All the dogs were happily housed, except for one. No one had come forward offering to have Queen Tilly. She sat now on her hot water bottle, shrieking and twitching and shaking with ill temper, the only dog left in the huge building that only a week ago had been full of life.

  “Oh, what on earth shall I do with you?” Kayley asked her.

  She would have taken her home herself if it hadn’t been for her landlord, who forbade all pets. Kayley had pity even for this most unattractive dog.

  It was as she was standing by Queen Tilly’s cage that the doorbell rang.

  Outside on the steps stood a rather forlorn-looking young man.

  “The name is Sprocket,” he said.

  A lot had happened to Milton Sprocket since he had followed Darth and Terminator across the moors and been picked up in a police van.

  The disgrace, for a detective, of falling into the hands of the force was overwhelming, but even worse was the terror he had felt at being cooped up with the two tracker dogs, slavering and frothing and showing their teeth only a few inches away from him. Darth and Terminator wanted to make it clear that though Otto had stopped them in their tracks, they were still killing machines, and whenever Sprocket tried to move his cramped limbs, their lips curled back over their incisors and they growled like the hounds of hell.

  Though Sprocket had been released almost straightaway and been able to get back to his van and drive to London, he had been left with a serious trauma. It was a kind of mental illness: a terror not just of dangerous dogs but of all dogs. Even a dog walking along on the other side of the road brought on an attack, causing him to shake all over.

  This was obviously very inconvenient for a detective. A man with a false moustache shaking like a leaf was apt to attract attention. Nothing could be done about the tragic block over his poetry, thought Sprocket, but surely he could find somebody who would help him to overcome his fear of dogs? So he had consulted a doctor, who had sent him to another doctor, who told him that the only way to be cured was to have a dog of his own.

  Sprocket had never been a dog lover. There was too much chewing and slobbering involved for a neat and careful man like himself. On the other hand, his work was suffering. Then he had a brainwave. He would rent a dog from an agency, just for an hour or two. If it brought on an attack he could always bring it straight back. Perhaps he could start with half an hour, then an hour. And the dogs could gradually get bigger. It would be expensive, but he was no longer so hard up. His aunt had died and left him some money and he hoped one day to set up on his own.

  And thinking about dog hire agencies, he remembered passing one on the way north, and drove to Easy Pets.

  The girl who let him in was pretty and gentle and nice. Sprocket took to her at once, but she had sad news to give him.

  “I’m afraid we’re closed down. The owners have left, and we’ve had to find homes for the dogs. I wish we could help you but you see…” She waved her arm at the empty cages, the bare floors, the bin bags waiting to be collected.

  “Oh dear. Well, I’ll just have to try somewhere else.”

  He was turning to go when a high-pitched and angry yapping broke the silence.

  “She’s the last dog left,” said Kayley. “We can’t find a home for her, I’m afraid. I don’t know what will happen…”

  She led Sprocket into Room A where the Mexican hairless in her cage was screaming and twitching and shivering with loneliness and rage.

  “Goodness.” Sprocket had never seen such an unappealing dog.

  “I’m afraid she gets the gripes from time to time,” said Kayley.

  Sprocket stared at her and his mouth dropped open because an absolutely amazing thing had happened. The dreadful block that had stopped him from writing poetry had disappeared. It was the word gripes that did it. For what was gripes except the perfect rhyme for pipes. And, as if it had been lowered down from heaven, the completed couplet came to him.

  If your toilet’s got the gripes

  We will come and fix your pipes.

  It was pithy, it was exact, and there was nothing in it that his mother would think was rude.

  In her cage, Queen Tilly was still twitching and shivering and screaming, and Sprocket, looking at her, wondered what she reminded him of. Then suddenly it came to him. Of course. Himself. He had been like that all through his school days, shivering and twitching and wanting to scream. Unwanted. Unloved.

  He took a deep breath. He couldn’t do it. It was impossible.

  But in his mind he had already done it. After all, this revolting little creature had given him back his gift for poetry. Perhaps she would turn out to be his lucky charm.

  The relief of having found a home for Queen Tilly kept Kayley going on the long journey on the underground, but when she got home she flopped down on the sofa, thoroughly miserable. She’d lost her job and the dogs who had been her friends, and the loss of her wages would make things really hard for the family.

  “It’s all right, love,” said her mother. “I’ve got my sewing with Mrs Naryan, and you’ll find something else to do. A girl like you won’t be out of work for long.”

  But jobs were hard to get, and Kayley didn’t have a lot of paper qualifications. When she’d phoned about a vacancy in a boarding kennel they’d asked her if she had a Diploma in Domestic Canine Management. Without it, the lady thought, she would find it hard to muck out the dogs’ cages or take them for a walk!

  Pippa came in then from school, followed by the twins, and everybody did their best to cheer Kayley up, but what had happened at Easy Pets had shaken them all.

  They were sitting down to their supper when a black car drew up outside the window. An expensive-looking car, out of which stepped a smartly dressed man with a briefcase.

  “What does he want, I wonder?” said Mrs O’Brian, looking worried. “We’ve paid our rent.”

  “They’ll be inspecting something,” said Pippa gloomily.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’d like to speak to Miss Kayley O’Brian, please,” said the man with the briefcase. “Is this the right house?”

  “Yes,” said Pippa, who had opened the door. “I suppose you’d better come in.”

  Albina was shopping. It was her favourite occupation and she was entirely happy. The three G aunts were with her. Hal was coming home in a week’s time and she was getting ready.

  The shop was called The Pampered Pooch and it sold everything that a well-turned-out dog might need. A famous dress designer had just produced a new range of tartan jackets and matching booties for afternoon wear, and for more athletic dogs there were jumpsuits of mink or ermine. Displays of jewelled collars were arranged on satin cushions. There were diamond studs for dogs to wear in their ears, and gold ribbons to plait into their moustaches, and inflatable ham bones which played “Silent Night” for dogs who found it difficult to sleep. Kennels shaped like paddle steamers or railway stations or giant boots stood on the floor, there was a stand of motoring goggles for dogs with sensitive eyes, and the shelves groaned with bubble baths and scents and deodorants for dogs who worried about their personal hygiene.

  “Oh dear, I don’t know where to begin,” said Albina. “There’s so much. Do you think Fleck would like a pillow shaped like a frankfurter sausage?”

  Georgina had found a cashmere bonnet for cold
days with a ribbon to tie under the chin, and Gloria had fallen for a blanket which played “Hush-a-bye Poochie” when you picked it up.

  The ladies ran hither and thither, getting more and more excited.

  “Look, here’s a collar with real garnets,” said Glenda. “I think garnets would suit him, don’t you? And it would go with your bracelet, wouldn’t it?”

  Albina took it from her hand.

  “Yes, it would. Though there’s an even better one over there. Look! It’s in alligator skin with a double row of rhinestones and the clasp is sixteen-carat gold.”

  They picked up a bottle of scent called “Doggy Delirium” and put it to their noses.

  “It’s heavenly. He must have some of that,” said Georgina.

  She looked at the price and gave a little shriek, but really the expense didn’t matter. Spending a lot of money was what it was all about.

  “There’s some canine mascara here,” said Glenda. “I seem to remember his eyelashes were rather pale.”

  They were piling up their purchases, ready to take them to the counter, when they saw an object that stopped them in their tracks. For a moment they could not even speak, it was so beautiful and wonderful and strange. A platinum pooper scooper set with opals and amethysts.

  Albina reached for it with a shaking hand.

  “It’s copied from a design that was used by the Russian royal family,” she said, reading the label. “Oh, I must have that, I absolutely must!”

  But just as she was about to add it to the other objects they had chosen, something happened. Albina straightened herself. She stood stock-still and a kind of judder went through her. A sort of twitch… And then slowly, very slowly (because it was so difficult) she put back the bottle of “Doggy Delirium”, and the blanket which played “Hush-a-bye Poochie”, and the garnet collar, and last of all, with a stab of real pain, the pooper scooper made of platinum.