The Last Family in England

by Matt Haig

  When we had turned the corner and no one was around Hal let out another, inexplicable howl, and smashed his hand into a fence. This time Hal really hurt himself; blood was dripping, with the rain, onto the wet pavement. But still he kept on walking.

  We went into the park, but he didn’t unclip me. He sat down on the bench. I sat too. With no other dogs or humans around, the grass seemed to stretch further away than usual. Looking past the decay of the smell-heap, the park appeared boundless and bare. I looked in the other direction, over towards Simon and Emily’s house, standing defiant in the rain, and then to the bushes where Joyce had been killed. That is when it came to me. I suddenly saw the connection between everything. Between the threat posed by Simon and the black hole in the side of the staircase. Between the deaths of Joyce and Henry. I didn’t understand these connections, not in detail anyway, but the point was I knew the connections were there. I sensed them, and sometimes that has to be enough.

  Hal, however, couldn’t see any connection. He was starting to smell guilty, completely oblivious to the larger framework his actions were merely a part of. All he knew was that he had crossed a line and he was now afraid of the consequence.

  But I smelt guilty too. My mission was in a state of disrepair and I couldn’t blame the Family, or Simon, or Emily. Not fully. After all, they were only human.

  I realised, for the first time, just how much I still needed Henry. I longed to sniff him, and imagined him trotting over, through the rain. What would he say? What would he tell me to do? Surely he wouldn’t prescribe wag control, and it was too late for sensory awareness.

  I had to face it: so far, I was a failure. I had let down Henry and I had let down the Family.

  As I stared out into the dim gauze of rain, I saw that the way back to happiness and security for the Family was out there, but that I would have to find it myself. I thought of the Eternal Reward and realised I no longer cared. All that mattered is what happened here, on earth. But that didn’t mean I was about to neglect the Family. It meant the opposite. The Family was everything; it was all I had.

  I looked at Hal, to try and tell him, with my eyes, that it would all work out. He looked back at me and stroked the top of my wet head with the hand which had been bleeding.

  ‘Come on, Prince,’ he said, in a voice which told me he was ready. ‘Let’s go home.’

  control

  There was an argument, about getting the police involved. Kate was for, Adam against.

  ‘It would only make things harder,’ Adam reasoned. ‘For Hal.’

  ‘You know our problem?’ Kate asked. ‘We’re soft.’

  But softness won, and the police weren’t called.

  The Family, meanwhile, remained in crisis and for the next few days Hal carried on blaming himself. And he wasn’t the only one. Adam, Kate and Charlotte were still transmitting their own guilt molecules. Only Grandma Margaret, cocooned in her smell-cloud, had a clear conscience.

  Of course, I knew the real root cause. It was me. Humans cannot help themselves. They think they are in control, but they never are. It was up to the Labrador to make things right.

  But still, they persisted in trying to look for their own solution.

  precious

  I saw him in the park.

  The boy who smelt of damaged skin. The one who had thrown a bottle, who had stolen Grandma Margaret’s jewellery. He was on his own, drinking from a can.

  It was dark. Late enough to avoid Emily.

  ‘Oi,’ he called over. ‘Mr Hunter. Mr Wanker.’

  Adam looked up, spotted the boy. He considered walking over, responding, but thought better. So the boy stood up and started moving towards us. A lumbering silhouette bathed against the golden glow of the street-light behind.

  ‘Prince,’ Adam said, jerking my head forward. ‘Come on boy. Let’s go home.’

  But before we had time the boy was there, holding up his hand. It was gigantic, almost as big as his head, with no definition between the fingers.

  ‘Look at that,’ the boy said. His speech was slurred.

  ‘It’s a bandage,’ Adam said.

  ‘Should keep your schizo dog under control.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Adam didn’t understand.

  ‘Could have him put down for that.’

  I remembered the damage I myself had caused.

  Adam put my lead on. ‘You’re clearly delusional. My dog didn’t do that.’

  ‘Oh, right. Got another Labrador then?’

  ‘You’re out of your mind.’

  ‘Was at your precious son’s piss-poor excuse for a party. Nearly took my hand off. Could sue for that. Negligence.’

  Adam looked at me. I sensed he knew the boy was telling the truth. I had let him down. I had let everyone down.

  Adam didn’t say anything, just walked past the boy at a careful distance.

  ‘Should put him down,’ the boy shouted, against an angry wind. ‘He’s fucking psycho.’

  Adam kept his silence all the way home, containing whatever doubts he now had about me.

  But later, in the kitchen with Kate, the doubts were set free.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like Prince,’ she said.

  ‘I know. But he was at the party. He wasn’t lying, I know he wasn’t.’

  There was a long, accusatory silence. Guilt forced me to retreat to my basket.

  ‘Oh God,’ Kate said. ‘Will he make us put Prince down?’

  ‘He won’t say anything. He hasn’t by now so I doubt he will.’

  ‘What if he stole mum’s brooch?’ Kate said.

  ‘We’ve talked about this. If we phone the police, we’ll only make things worse for Hal. With his friends.’

  Kate sighed. ‘Some friends.’

  ‘And anyway, it’s probably too late now. And what if it led to Prince being put down?’

  ‘What, so the dog is suddenly more important than my mother’s memories?’

  ‘Come on, Kate. Be reasonable.’

  ‘Reasonable.’ Kate breathed the word with disgust. I wondered if this was just about me, or if it had anything to do with the Simon-smells which drifted from her clothes. I wondered how close Simon got to them. Her clothes.

  ‘I’m tired,’ Adam said. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  nature

  ‘We should do more things together, all of us, as a family,’ said Adam.

  The problem was, what things? Where was the common ground? Was it still worth doing things together when half of the Family wished they weren’t?

  These were the questions circling my head as I was escorted, by Charlotte, onto the back seat of the car.

  ‘Why do we all have to go?’ asked Hal. But his exams were over, and he’d run out of excuses.

  ‘It will do us good,’ explained Adam. ‘A day with nature.’

  Grandma Margaret wasn’t coming. She said she didn’t want to hold us up. She said we should go on and enjoy ourselves while she got on with some knitting. So she stood and waved us goodbye and went back inside.

  flash

  A car beeped hello as we waited at the end of the road. It was Simon, in his half-car. A car with no top. And Falstaff. He spotted my nose peeking out of the window.

  ‘Waah-hey madwag. Waaaah-hey!’ He was in his element. The wind coursing through his fur as they soared off into the distance.

  Adam tutted. ‘Flash bastard.’

  Kate said nothing. She just pulled down her mirror and flicked her hair.

  paradise

  When we got to the forest, Adam went to a small wooden building and brought out a map.

  ‘We can do one of these walks,’ he said. ‘This one with the nature trail.’

  We headed off, down a small path, through the trees. Adam unclipped me.

  ‘Off you go, boy, go on.’

  Off I went.

  I knew it would lift their spirits, seeing me running free. So that is what I did. I ran through trees, looking back every now and again to check that they could still
see me.

  But as I ran, as I sniffed the magical forest smells, I started to forget myself. I followed one scent and picked up another, running, chasing, dodging trees. The Family, for the first time since the smell-heap, was completely out of my thoughts.

  In fact, I was so diverted that I didn’t even notice the light drops of summer rain as they landed on my back. I just kept on running. It was only when the sky thundered that I stopped to look around.

  Just trees. Everywhere, just trees.

  I was lost.

  I smelt for Kate. For Adam. For Charlotte and Hal. For home.

  Nothing. Just sky-water. Wet soil and wood.

  I sniffed the ground but none of the smells made sense. Even my own scent trail was washing away.

  I switched senses, trying to hear my way back.

  Trying to hear something above the beating of the rain on the ground. Birds were singing above me, about me, and, beyond the birdsong, I could just make out the sound of far-away traffic. But that was it. No human voices.

  Again I looked around. The landscape, or that which could be seen through the thin grey lines of water, was strangely familiar. I had run through it many times in my wolf-dreams. Thick trees. Head-high vegetation. Rough, animal tracks.

  But this was not how I felt in my wolf-dreams. I was not at one with nature. I was not hunting for prey or bonding with my wild pack. I was alone. Alone and scared. My head pulsated with terror.

  Looking back now I want to convince myself that my main fear was for the Family. For their future without me. Without protection. But that fear came later, attached to the memory. At the time, loath as I am to admit it, I was mainly scared for myself and for the uncertain fate which waited for me amid the thick trees. At that moment, I needed the Family just as much as they needed me. I realised that they too offered their own form of protection. From nature. From our former selves.

  I moved forward, towards the far-away traffic sounds. Running, nose to the ground, eyes on the path ahead, ears on full alert.

  Then I picked up a scent. Dog scent. I stopped to sniff further. It was fresh, female. I followed it, reckoning that it would be my only hope of finding my way out. As I ran, the scent grew stronger, even under the rain.

  And then the trees parted. A clearing. A small pool of water. I followed the scent trail around until I saw her. Them. Three of them. It was the most incredible sight I had ever seen. Three spaniels. Not Springers. Smaller, more beautiful. Lying next to the water. Well, two were lying. One was sitting up. All reflected upside down.

  ‘I’m lost,’ I told them. ‘I need to find my way out. Back to my masters. I was running and then I just didn’t know where I was, because of the rain –’

  ‘The rain has stopped,’ said one of the spaniels, lying down. ‘And now you are here.’

  ‘You can stay with us,’ said the other. The spaniel sitting up said nothing.

  I noticed that the rain had indeed stopped, and with it my fear.

  ‘I can’t. I need to go back. To protect my Family. Do you know the way?’

  The first spaniel stood up. She gave no sign that she had even heard me. I remember thinking she must be the leader. ‘We live in the wild. We drink water from this pool and feed on small animals of the forest. We escaped. We realised we didn’t need our masters any more, that we can have a better life, out here with nature.’

  I paused. There was a soothing quality to her voice. Hypnotic, almost. ‘I . . . have . . . to –’

  The other spaniel who had been lying down, now also rose to her feet and moved closer. I noticed her eyes were different colours. The bitch who had been sitting in silence stayed where she was.

  I was sniffed and circled. Their scents mingled, as did their voices.

  ‘You would like it here.’

  ‘We don’t have to act for humans. We can be ourselves.’

  ‘You are a very handsome dog.’

  ‘You could look after us.’

  ‘We could look after you.’

  ‘It could be paradise.’

  ‘Paradise.’

  I looked around, at the trees, at the misty vapours rising from the pool. A wild world of smell and adventure. A paradise, perhaps. But I was not ready for paradise. My mission was incomplete, I had to stay faithful.

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘It sounds very . . . nice. It really does. And I am sure it is working for you. But the thing is, I can’t escape from my masters. I am a Labrador. If you cannot help me, I must try and find my own way back.’

  ‘You are a stupid dog,’ snapped the bitch with different eyes. ‘You will never get out of here.’

  ‘The world has changed,’ growled the leader. ‘Dogs have rebelled. We are not the first to break free. You will see, in time, that you have chosen the wrong course.’

  I went to leave.

  ‘Wait!’ Another voice. I turned to see the third spaniel, the one who had so far remained quiet, walk over. ‘I will show you the way.’

  Her two companions stopped circling and looked at each other. ‘No, sister,’ said the leader. ‘The Labrador has made his choice. He has rejected us, and our way of life. Now we must reject him.’

  ‘But he will not be able to find his way back.’

  ‘That is his decision.’

  ‘No, I am sorry, sisters. I have to help him.’

  The leader appeared in shock, as if she had never been overruled in such a way. But she said nothing as the third spaniel led me away, out of the clearing.

  ‘This way, follow me.’

  As I followed her, I had the strangest feeling. It was as though the landscape itself was communicating to me. Listen, it was saying. You will never find your way back. Even when you are at home, with your masters. You will never find your way . . .

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked the spaniel, in an attempt to block out the forest.

  ‘I don’t have a name. Not any more.’

  ‘Any more?’

  ‘The name our masters gave me was Tess, but my sisters say we cannot use our pet names.’ She turned a corner. ‘This way.’

  I noticed her ribs through her coat. ‘When did you escape?’

  ‘Seven days ago. We have kept count.’

  ‘Are you eating OK?’

  ‘We eat what we can. But it is very hard, not like before, when our masters fed us every day.’

  ‘Why did you run away?’

  She stopped in front of me, turned around and said: ‘Please, don’t ask me any more questions. I will show you the way to the human area. That is as much as I can do.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  But something made her continue. ‘We agreed together. We were show dogs, locked in cages, continually deprived of our natural scent. Our owner, she was not cruel but she did not let us live the life we wanted. And then one day, in our local park, we were listening to this bitch. She was giving a lecture on the Springer Uprising. She said that we should not wish to have power over our masters, but over ourselves. She said that dogs have always been caught in the middle of the tug-of-war between humans and nature. She said that we have given everything as secret rulers of the human home, but have benefited little ourselves.’

  ‘She said a lot.’

  ‘Yes. And it was after that lecture that my sisters decided to escape, when we came here.’

  ‘I thought you all agreed together?’

  She paused again, gave me an awkward glance. ‘Well, they are my sisters, I had to follow them. I wouldn’t have wanted to be left alone.’

  ‘But you might not be able to survive out here.’

  ‘I will have to leave you now. The footpath is down there.’ She sniffed the wet black root of the tree in front of me, to check that she was in the right spot. She then cocked her leg to leave her scent.

  ‘You could come with me,’ I said. ‘My Family could find you a new home.’

  She looked at me, her soft-sad eyes revealing the dilemma she faced. ‘I can’t leave my sisters.’

  ‘But
you could die.’

  ‘I can’t leave my sisters,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

  And that is when I heard them.

  ‘Prince! Prii-ince!’

  ‘That’s my masters,’ I told her. ‘They are looking for me.’

  ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Before I am seen.’ She sniffed a quick farewell and turned back towards the clearing.

  ‘Goodbye,’ I said, too late. She was already gone. I bent towards the tree she had sprayed and breathed in. ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Prince! Prii-ince!’ It was Adam.

  I ran fast, barking as I travelled towards his voice. Their scents floated across the air before they were visible. My masters. My Family.

  I could see the path, the sun reflected in puddles.

  I was out of the trees, crossing the final stretch of grass towards them. They all crouched down, arms outstretched. Eight hands.

  ‘Prince!’

  ‘We thought we’d lost you!’

  ‘Oh, poor Prince!’

  ‘Poor boy!’

  I licked their faces as Adam attached my lead.

  responsibility

  I was sitting on the floor with Kate, watching a documentary on TV. It was about dogs. About what goes on inside our heads.

  She kept on nudging me every time a dog came on screen, as if we all know each other. But I didn’t mind, I humoured her.

  She had had a long day and now she was all alone. Well, Grandma Margaret was in her room, but no one else was in. And, as Charlotte always used to point out, Grandma Margaret didn’t count.

  I nestled on her lap and she stroked my ear, saying nothing. We just both sat there, watching as a collie stalked a rabbit across the television screen.

  ‘. . . Like its wolf ancestors, the collie’s predatory instinct enables it to pursue its prey . . .’

  The collie started to gallop, chanting panted insults at the rabbit as she passed him.

  ‘However, at the exact moment the dog is expected to kill, it retreats. Rather than chase for survival, the dog’s behaviour has become its own reward . . .’