‘Right,’ said Roy, then hesitated. The trouble was, asking Hopper was easier said than done. Hopper was unpredictable. He could get a gang onto you for looking at him; for not looking at him, even.
Hopper was a solid boy. He had a square body and a square head. He never wore a coat, even when it snowed. He had transfers of famous racing cars stuck on his arms, and tattoos in blue felt pen on the backs of his hands.
Roy took his jockey cap off and put it on again. ‘You ask him,’ he said.
‘I don’t need to ask him,’ said Eric. ‘I was there. You ask him!’
A red ball came bouncing towards them, followed by a pack of first-year boys. Roy kicked the ball back over their heads. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘Let’s get Kenny Biggs to ask him.’ Kenny was Hopper’s cousin; also he was in Roy and Eric’s class.
So, Kenny was approached, told as little as was necessary, and promised a handful of Eric’s crisps at playtime for his trouble. He agreed to do the job.
‘Ask him, was he at Purnell’s fish shop last night?’ said Eric.
‘And was there a dog there?’ said Roy.
‘And what happened?’ Eric said.
Kenny went off in search of Hopper. He had left the pile of boys he’d been sitting on, and gone into the back playground. Eric and Roy sat on the dustbins outside the caretaker’s room. The red ball came bouncing towards them again! This time Eric took a kick at it. The pursuing first years yelled in protest, turned and followed the ball. Then Kenny came back.
‘What did he say?’ said Roy and Eric together.
‘Hopper says, “Who wants to know?”,’ said Kenny Biggs.
5
One Bark for ‘Yes’
Roy and Eric were still considering their next move when the whistle went and put a stop to everything. The children began lining up in their classes. The teachers came out to lead them in.
Rolfe Street Primary – that was the name of the school – was old. It had tall, thin windows like a church. There were iron railings at the front and a high brick wall at the back. The headmaster was old, too; his name was Mr Blocker.
Eric and Roy lined up with Class Three facing Mrs Jessop. Roy said, ‘Let’s ask him again, at playtime!’
‘Face the front,’ said Mrs Jessop. ‘Come on, Roy!’
Class Three – girls first – followed Mrs Jessop up the steps and along the corridor. The walls were covered in brown tiles to about shoulder height; so were the classroom walls.
In the classroom, the student, Mr Cork, was feeding his rabbit. Eric handed him the bag of cabbage stalks. One of the monitors wrote the date on the marker-board. Mrs Jessop called the register. ‘Antony Able?’
‘Here, Miss.’
‘Roy Ackerman?’
‘Here, Miss.’
‘Dennis Ball?’
‘Gone to the dentist, Miss!’
‘No – I saw him playing out!’
‘His sister says–’
‘Sh!’ said Mrs Jessop. ‘Eric Banks?’
‘Here, Miss.’
‘Woof!’
Mrs Jessop glared. ‘Who did that? Was it you, Roy?’
‘No, Miss!’ said Roy. He had barked quite softly, intending – or maybe half-intending – only Eric to hear.
Mrs Jessop completed the register and did the dinner register. The children with school camp money took it down the corridor to Mr Hodge. The bell went for assembly. During assembly, Mr Blocker talked about how Jesus loved the little children and suffered them to come unto Him. He talked about some boys who’d been having a spitting competition in the back playground. He warned what would happen if they did it again.
Roy and Eric talked about Hopper. Roy was worried. He felt sure Hopper had been giving him a look when he, Hopper, came into assembly. After assembly, Class Three had a maths lesson with Mr Cork. He gave them work cards, one between two. They had to measure various things and calculate their surface areas. Then it was playtime.
Eric bought a bag of crisps from the fourth-year shop. He and Roy kicked a ball around with Tony Able. Kenny – bribed with crisps – went looking for Hopper.
‘Tell him it’s for a bet or something,’ said Roy. ‘Give him a crisp.’
But this time all went well. Perhaps Hopper was in a good mood. He was unpredictable in more ways than one. He did unpredictable favours sometimes. Whatever the reason, when Kenny came back, he had the information. ‘Hopper says, yes – he was at Purnell’s – it was after ten o’clock.’
‘See, I told you,’ said Eric, looking at Roy.
‘He says there was a dog, and him and Martin Smart had it jumping for chips.’
‘See?’ said Eric.
‘They had it jumping for fish and pineapple fritters, too, Hopper says.’
Well, that settled it for Roy. He couldn’t believe it, but he did believe it. The idea that Eric himself might have gone to Purnell’s fish shop and seen a real dog begging for chips, and made the rest of it up, never occurred to him; or if it did, he dismissed it. Eric wouldn’t do a thing like that. Eric, for his part, was relieved. He’d begun to have doubts himself. For some reason, it seemed better to know he’d turned into a dog – to have it proved - than to find out he’d imagined it.
Eric gave Kenny the rest of his crisps. Tony Able sneaked out of the gates to fetch his ball. Once more Eric and Roy sat on the dustbins. Roy was excited. He took his jockey cap off and put it on again three or four times, and when Kenny left, he punched the flat of his hand with his fist. ‘It’s brilliant, Eric – you really turned into a dog!’
‘I told you,’ said Eric.
‘Yes, but you really did!’ Roy stood on a dustbin and jumped up and down.
Just then, a man’s face with a frown on it appeared at the window behind them. It was Mr Moody, the caretaker. He knocked on the window and gestured for Roy to get down from the dustbin. He mouthed a single word through the glass: ‘Off!”
After play Class Three watched a TV programme in the hall with Mr Cork. It was about the various animals that could be found on the banks of a river. Roy stared in the direction of the set, but saw very little. He talked to Eric out of the side of his mouth. ‘I’ve been thinking – if you changed once, you could change again.’
‘I know,’ said Eric.
‘You could change any time.’
‘Yes.’
Mr Cork tapped Eric on the head with a TV pamphlet. ‘Watch the programme,’ he said.
On the way back to the classroom Eric said, ‘Listen – if I do change, we’ll need a code.’
‘A code!’ Roy stopped and looked admiringly at Eric. ‘Hey, that’s good!’ The children behind protested. They wanted to get into the classroom and Roy was blocking the door.
Roy and Eric sat down. Mr Cork began to ask questions about the programme. ‘So this is it,’ said Eric. ‘One bark for “yes”; two barks for “no”.’
‘Right,’ said Roy. ‘One for yes, two for no.’ He muttered the formula to himself two or three times. Then he thought of something else. ‘What shall I call you, if you’re a dog?’
‘It was a vole, Sir,’ said Eric.
Roy blinked. Mr Cork must have asked Eric a question. Roy couldn’t have answered it. He’d forgotten Mr Cork was even there. He said again, ‘What shall I call you?’
‘Eric,’ said Eric.
‘That’s no name for a dog. How about… Rex?’
‘No,’ said Eric. ‘Call me Eric’
At dinner time Eric and Roy sat at the same table. The servers were two girls from Class Three: Joan Spooner and Alison Jukes. Eric and Roy liked it on their table. The girls didn’t eat much themselves, and gave big helpings. On some of the fourth-year tables, you were lucky even to smell a dinner.
The teacher on duty was Mr Hodge. He stood on the platform and folded his arms. ‘Hands together, eyes closed!’
Roy said, ‘I’ve just thought of something!’
‘You, too, Roy!’ said Mr Hodge.
Roy lowered his head and s
quinted sideways at Eric.
‘For what we are about to receive,’ said Mr Hodge. The children took up the words. ‘For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful Amen.’
Roy said, ‘Listen – if you were a dog, you’d have to buy a licence – 37½!’
‘Servers!’ said Mr Hodge. Joan and Alison hurried up to the hatch.
‘No,’ Eric said. ‘You need a licence to have a dog, not be one. Dogs don’t buy them.’
The dinner was shepherd’s pie, peas and gravy; the pudding: treacle tart and custard.
‘Just think, you could be eating bonemeal biscuits and Pedigree Chum,’ said Roy.
‘What’s all this about dogs?’ said Joan.
‘Who says? I had pineapple fritter last time.’
‘What’s all this about dogs?’ said Alison.
‘It’s a secret – isn’t it, Eric?’
Eric poured himself a glass of water. ‘Woof!’ he said.
In the afternoon Class Three put on their plimsolls and went into the hall for a square-dancing lesson with Mrs Jessop. Eric managed fairly well, but Roy had trouble concentrating. Mrs Jessop was in a cheerful mood. She had her plimsolls on and joined in the dancing. She clapped her hands to the music. But towards the end, Roy’s behaviour exasperated her and she threw a bean-bag at him.
For the last lesson of the day Mrs Jessop took the slow readers in the staffroom. Mr Cork read the rest of the class a story. From time to time there were interruptions: two girls with a message for the netball team; two girls with items of lost property; one infant with a worried look on his face; he’d come to the wrong room.
It was hot in the classroom. The children were warm, too, from dancing. They daydreamed in their places while the story floated in the air around them. Even Roy was still. Then Mrs Jessop returned with the readers and the bell went for home-time.
The children put the chairs up on the tables.
‘Good afternoon, Class Three!’ said Mrs Jessop.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Jessop, good afternoon, Mr Cork!’ the children said, and filed out.
6
Be My Dog
Eric and Roy walked home. They crossed Rolfe Street at the school crossing. Roy said, ‘About this code, I’ve been thinking, why not nod your head for “yes” and shake it for “no”?’
‘I prefer to bark,’ said Eric.
‘Or sometimes you could write.’
‘I’ll bark,’ Eric said.
In Seymour Road the two boys bought a liquorice wheel and a liquorice pipe from Russell’s sweet shop.
‘Another thing,’ said Roy, ‘if you change again, I want you to come round.’
‘What if it’s late? You’ll be in bed.’
‘I want you to come,’ said Roy. ‘You could howl at the window.’
Eric and Roy balanced along the wall in front of the Old People’s Home. They watched a fire-engine going up Joining’s Bank. ‘Dogs chase fire-engines, y’know,’ said Roy. And he said, ‘If you do change, you might not change back – think of that!’
‘I already did,’ said Eric.
‘Well, the thing is,’ Roy threw his jockey cap in the air and caught it; ‘what I was thinking was–you could be my dog.’
‘Thanks,’ said Eric.
‘Yes. I’d get my Uncle Colin to make you a kennel.’
‘I’d rather live in the house,’ said Eric.
They passed a postbox. Roy pushed his arm inside as far as it would go. ‘I always wanted a dog,’ he said.
On most evenings after school Roy and Eric would have their tea and go to the park. But Thursday was Roy’s staying-in night. He had a piano lesson at half-past four, and had to practise afterwards.
Roy and Eric separated at the junction of Clay Street and Taylors Road. Roy was hopping with frustration. He couldn’t bear to let Eric out of his sight. If he was going to turn into a dog again, Roy wanted to be there. All the same, what could he do? If he missed his lesson, his mum would keep him in for a week – well, a few days, anyway. She’d done it before.
Roy walked backwards up Taylors Road. He cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Don’t forget – come round!’
‘Right!’ said Eric.
‘Come round!’
‘I heard you!’
Roy kept his gaze on Eric till there was nothing to see. He pushed both hands in his pockets and continued up the road.
When Eric entered the kitchen, his dad was there. He was drinking a mug of tea and reading the Radio Times. His hair was tousled, and he had a sleepy look on his face. Eric’s dad usually took a nap in the afternoon. This was because he started work at four o’clock in the morning.
‘Your mouth’s all black,’ he said.
‘I’ve been eating a liquorice wheel,’ said Eric.
He looked out of the window. His mum was unpegging washing from the line. Emily was playing with her play-pool. She had her swimming costume on, and was fetching things from all over the garden and putting them in the water. Mrs Banks came in with the basket of washing.
‘Your mouth’s black,’ she said.
‘I’ve been eating liquorice,’ said Eric.
He went into the garden and looked in Emily’s pool. It was full of leaves and flower-heads. Two of her little plastic dolls were in there, and a dinosaur, and a driver from one of his cars.
‘Mouth’s black,’ said Emily.
‘Liquorice,’ said Eric. He gave Emily the bit he had saved for her. When she wasn’t looking, he rescued his driver from the pool.
Eric returned to the house and went up to his room. He came down and went into the garden again. He was restless. His head was full of uncomfortable thoughts. Without Roy to talk to, he had trouble sorting them out. Also, everything was – well – funnier when Roy was around.
‘What if I change now!’ he thought. ‘At teatime! What if I only half change, or they put me out and that mastiff gets me!’
Eric had another problem, too. His mum was watching him again. The longer he didn’t tell her anything, the more of a secret it became, and the more he felt suspected. When they were having tea, Mr Banks said, ‘Did you tell Eric about that dog?’
‘Yes, he heard it – didn’t you, Eric?’
‘Yes,’ said Eric.
‘Strange,’ said Mr Banks. ‘I thought I knew all the dogs round here.’
Some time later Mrs Banks leant over the table and placed a hand on Eric’s forehead. ‘Does he look all right to you, Charles?’
‘He looks all right,’ said Mr Banks. ‘A bit ugly, maybe.’
‘Charles!’ Mrs Banks laughed. Eric laughed too; so did Emily. Emily hadn’t got the joke; she was laughing because everyone else was. Then the others laughed because she was laughing. Emily laughed the more. A piece of tomato shot out of her mouth and fell in the butter.
After tea Eric watched television for a while. His dad had gone to the sorting office to do some overtime. His mum was bathing Emily. Eric switched from one channel to the next. Finally, he switched off altogether and tried to read a book. But it was no use; he couldn’t concentrate. He put the book down and stared at himself in the sideboard mirror.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a slight movement which made him jump. He turned in time to see a face at the window with hands cupped round it, peering in. It was Roy.
Eric opened the window.
‘Can’t stop,’ said Roy. ‘Just sneaked out.’ He glanced into the room. ‘Where is everybody?’
Eric told him.
Roy said, ‘I’ve been thinking – what if you only half changed?’
‘I thought of that,’ said Eric.
‘The thing is, what would you rather be: a boy with a dog’s head, or a dog with a boy’s head?’
While Eric was considering this, his mum came into the room. ‘Hello, Roy!’
‘Hello, Mrs Banks,’ said Roy.
Eric – with his back to his mum – gave Roy a look. The look said: ‘Be careful what you say.’
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br /> Roy cleared his throat. He took his jockey cap off and twirled it on his finger.
‘Isn’t Roy coming in?’ said Mrs Banks.
‘Aren’t you coming in?’ said Eric.
‘No,’ said Roy. ‘I’ve got to go -just sneaked, er … came out, y’know.’ He gave Eric a look. The look said: ‘Don’t forget – come round!’ And then he left.
Mrs Banks put the television on. She sat down on the sofa with a bag of wool. ‘Is Roy all right?’ she said.
7
St Mary’s Baths
The next morning when Eric woke up he was still a boy. As usual he met Roy on the paper round.
Roy said, ‘Maybe it’ll only happen at special times, like Midsummer’s Eve, or Wednesdays.’
‘I thought of that,’ said Eric.
On the way to school Roy proposed another theory. ‘Perhaps it’ll only happen in your own bed.’
‘What makes you think that?’ said Eric.
‘Well, Dad told me this story once, called “Jimmy and His Magic Patch”. It was in a comic he used to read. Y’see, this boy has a magic patch on his trousers. It comes from a magician’s carpet or something. And every now and then it flies off with him to different places. Then he has adventures there.’
‘What’s that got to do with my bed?’ said Eric.
‘Well, I was thinking: what kind of blankets have you got?’
When they entered the playground, Kenny Biggs was waiting for them.
‘Where’s your swimming things?’ said Eric. The three of them had arranged to go swimming straight after school.
‘Can’t go,’ said Kenny. ‘Mum’s having her hair done. I’ve got to mind Malky.’
Roy said, ‘Hey, look at Hopper!’ Hopper was on the boilerhouse roof, which was, of course, forbidden. He was getting a ball.
Kenny said, ‘D’you want me to ask him anything? I can if you want.’
‘No,’ said Eric.
‘Oh,’ said Kenny. He looked disappointed. He was hoping for more crisps.
During assembly Roy tried to talk to Eric about another idea he’d had; but Mrs Jessop heard him and made him stand at the side. At playtime they helped Mr Cork to move some tables and clear a space for the drama lesson. Joan Spooner and Alison Jukes asked them to be in their play.
Woof! Page 3