The Door In the Tree

by William Corlett

  ‘What is it?’ Alice asked, rising and crossing to him.

  The dog looked up at her, as she lifted the latch. Cool damp air gusted into the room. Alice shivered and reached for her anorak, from one of the pegs beside the door. She walked out into the dusk, pulling on the jacket. Spot followed her, sniffing the air and still listening intently.

  An owl hooted, somewhere close at hand.

  ‘Jasper!’ Spot’s voice whispered in Alice’s head.

  Then the sharp, surprising, bark of a fox cut through the evening from up in the trees of the valley, beyond the walled garden.

  ‘And Cinnabar!’ the voice in her head whispered again.

  Alice turned and looked down at Spot. He was standing beside her, one paw raised above the ground, his head on one side, his ears pricked forward. She could feel his eager energy, as he leaned towards the sights and sounds and the smells of the forest. Her nose started to twitch as she caught the scent of the pine needles and damp earth. The owl hooted again and the fox barked. Then she noticed that other birds were singing; a loud chorus of tweeting and twittering and whistling, of long flute-like notes and short, chirpy tunes filled the distant trees with a kind of music. It was as if the whole of the forest was calling to her, pulling at her.

  ‘Come on!’ Spot said, his voice excited. And, as he spoke, Alice felt the cold through her paw as she placed it on the ground. She shook her head, sniffing the damp, scented, air again. Then, together as one, she and Spot sprang forward across the yard towards the garden gate and, pushing it open, they raced down the centre path, passing the dovecote. As they did so, Jasper, the owl, appeared from one of the topmost ledges and, swooping low, he led the way towards the forest gate. The gate was off the latch and swung backwards and forwards on the stiff breeze. Spot and Alice waited until there was a gap then pushed their way through into the dark, wind-tossed woods beyond. As they reached the forest track, Cinnabar, the fox, appeared out of the undergrowth and trotted towards them.

  ‘Where are the others?’ he asked. ‘The boy never came to see me once.’

  ‘And I have been waiting for the girl,’ the owl hooted.

  ‘Don’t bother about that now,’ Spot told them. ‘We must find them and warn them. The badgers have been taken to Blackscar Quarry.’

  The owl hooted mournfully and the red fur on Cinnabar’s neck bristled.

  ‘Blackscar!’ he said.

  ‘Cinnabar,’ Spot growled, ‘the boy has gone with the man to get help from the town. Wait for them on the moor road. You must lead them to Blackscar. And, Jasper, the girl is going with Meg to the badger sett. You’ll find her there.’

  ‘Where will you go, dog?’ the owl hooted.

  ‘We’re going straight to Blackscar,’ Spot growled.

  ‘By which route?’ Cinnabar barked.

  ‘The fastest,’ Spot replied without hesitation.

  ‘The fastest?’ Jasper hooted.

  ‘You’re going on the Dark and Dreadful path?’ Cinnabar whispered.

  ‘If we must,’ Alice replied – and surprised herself with the answer.

  ‘D’you know how awful that place is?’ Cinnabar asked. ‘When the hunt is out, that’s where my people go to die.’

  ‘And mine have been shot there, with slings and catapults as well as airguns and rifles,’ Jasper hooted.

  ‘It’s a track made by men,’ Spot said grimly, as though his words explained everything.

  ‘But – is it the quicket way for us to get to the badgers, Spot?’ Alice asked.

  ‘The only way,’ the dog whispered in her head.

  ‘Then we have to go,’ Alice said and she and Spot bounded forward without any more hesitation.

  As they disappeared into the gloom of the forest, the owl sailed up above them and circled once, hooting its farewell, and the fox darted away round the side of the walled garden towards the front drive and the lane to the moor road.

  ‘Goodbye!’ Jasper called as he flew away into the night.

  ‘Goodbye!’ Cinnabar barked as he left the forest track.

  ‘Come soon,’ Spot and Alice yelped, as they started the steep ascent of the valley side.

  24

  The Dark and Dreadful Path

  THE NIGHT WAS dark and, although the rain had stopped, the air was still damp and cold. Thin mist wreathed the trunks of the trees and the grasses and ferns were covered with raindrops which soaked Spot’s coat as they brushed past. Every one of the cuts and scratches on his body was throbbing and he was so tired that his legs trembled with every step he took.

  ‘Please,’ Alice whispered, ‘we must stop.’

  But Spot shook his head.

  ‘Can’t,’ he gasped. ‘No time.’

  ‘Don’t try to speak,’ Alice whispered and then she cried out as a branch of bramble scraped along Spot’s body and ripped at the wound on his neck.

  ‘Oh, this is horrible, Spot,’ she sobbed. ‘I wish I was at home or . . . maybe we could be separate for a bit? All your body hurts so much and the pain is awful.’ But, as she said the words, she felt ashamed. ‘I’m sorry. That was horrid of me. If you have to suffer, then I will as well. Only I do so wish that we were both at home. I mean . . . I wish this wasn’t happening and that we didn’t have to be here. I wish . . .’

  ‘Don’t think so much,’ Spot sighed in her head. ‘We must save our strength for the fight.’

  ‘Fight?’ Alice whispered, immediately afraid.

  ‘Well, what d’you think we’re going to do? Go to Blackscar and just . . . have a chat? Ask the dogs politely if they’d mind stopping killing the badgers?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ she said, feeling the fear in their body, ‘I hadn’t really thought what we’d do when we got there. How many dogs will there be?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Spot replied, grimly. ‘Five? Ten? Maybe more. If men have come from far away, there could be a lot more than that.’

  ‘More than ten?’ Alice exclaimed. ‘We can’t fight ten men and their dogs, Spot. Not just the two of us.’

  ‘And certainly not if there are any more like Fang,’ Spot gasped.

  ‘Was it Fang who did this to you?’ As she spoke she gasped again as a muscle rippled at the top of a front leg, opening one of the wounds. Spot whimpered.

  ‘Yes. It was Fang,’ he replied. ‘That dog and I have been waiting to have a go at each other ever since he first came to the house. When they took the badgers . . .’

  ‘How many of them?’ Alice asked. ‘How many did they take?’

  ‘Four. They left the little ones and the old sow – Betty. They took Bawson and Grey and the two sows, Trish and Stella . . .’

  ‘Stella? She’s Candy’s mother,’ Alice thought, remembering the little one who had come and slept on her lap. ‘What happened to the others – the ones that were left?’

  Spot sighed.

  ‘They were scattered. There were three dogs, last night. I fought with them all. At least it gave the little ones a chance to hide. I don’t know what happened to them. I followed the men. Then Fang got my scent. His man – the builder . . .’

  ‘Kev,’ Alice prompted him.

  ‘He . . . he set Fang on me.’

  ‘How?’ Alice asked, appalled.

  ‘He said . . . “Go, Fang! Kill, Fang!” . . . It was like a command. That dog was like a . . . well, not like a dog. I tried to fight him . . . but I’ve never met such anger before.’

  ‘Anger?’ Alice whispered.

  ‘Yes. He’s been made like that. By the man, I suppose. Maybe, deep down, he’s angry with him . . . Or with himself. Whatever way, when his master gives him the command to kill he has to do it. And all the time, the three men shone their torches on us and . . . laughed.’ Spot sighed at the memory and his whole body shook. ‘I only managed to get away because of a trick – otherwise he’d have done for me.’

  ‘What trick?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Something the Magician taught me,’ Spot replied. At the mention of the Magician, Alice�
�s heart missed a beat.

  ‘Oh, please, Mr Tyler – come and help us,’ she cried.

  ‘He won’t. He’s got his own things to do.’

  ‘What was the trick?’

  ‘When you’re in a fight, he told me, and it’s going badly, don’t resist. Do the opposite . . . give in. Go limp . . .’

  ‘But – if you give in,’ Alice protested, ‘you’re giving up. Then you lose.’

  ‘No,’ Spot replied, as if he also was mystified by what he was telling her, ‘it works the opposite. The dog attacking you – has nothing to attack. That’s when you can get away. If you’re quick.’

  Alice was puzzled for a moment. ‘But how does it work?’ she said.

  ‘Well, think about it,’ Spot said. ‘If somebody was going to punch you and you went limp . . . the punch would pass right through you, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘It would still hurt you.’

  ‘No, not really, not if you could do it properly.’

  ‘You mean – if you ducked out of the way?’

  ‘Yes, that’s part of it. All he said was – the Magician – all he said was – “Don’t resist” . . . So I didn’t . . . and, for a minute, Fang had nothing to fight against and I was able to creep away. But, if his master hadn’t called him off, I’d be in a bad way.’

  Alice thought he seemed in a bad way even so. She could feel how the energy was sapping out of him. His pace was growing slower, his breathing heavier. He dragged his feet across the soft floor of the forest and every step he took made shafts of pain shoot through his body.

  Eventually, when she thought she was going to have to force him to stop, they reached a broad track that cut across the forest in front of them.

  ‘We’re here,’ he whispered and, as he did so, Alice saw the dog stagger to the centre of the path and collapse on to the ground in front of her and she realized that she was out of him once more. This sudden separation took her by surprise. She looked around in the darkness, missing the heightened awareness of Spot’s dog-vision and his dogsense, but also free of his pain and his weakness. Instead she felt her own, human, fear.

  ‘Where are we?’ she said, in a small, scared voice.

  Spot didn’t answer her. He was breathing heavily, gasping and groaning. Alice crossed quickly and knelt beside him, laying a hand gently on his head. Then she looked round again. The trees on either side of the track formed black, impenetrable walls; the sky above was filled with clouds, chasing across a huge silver moon. A wind was blowing that moaned and sighed. No birds sang. No animals barked or called. It was as though she and Spot were the only two living creatures in the whole of this windy, dark and forbidding world. She put her hands under her armpits and hugged herself for warmth. She felt horribly alone and afraid and then, with a sickening gasp, she understood where they were.

  ‘This is it, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘This is the Dark and Dreadful Path.’

  Spot didn’t answer. Alice leaned over him, peering through the darkness at his face. His eyes were open, his breathing irregular. ‘Spot,’ she whispered. ‘Darling Spot. What’s wrong? Please tell me. What’s happening?’

  ‘The Dark and Dreadful Path,’ he gasped, ‘it leads . . . to . . . Death.’ And he sighed, a long, trembling exhalation of breath.

  Jack drove first to the police station. Bob Parker, Meg’s friend, wasn’t on duty but the sergeant on the desk telephoned his home and Jack was able to talk to him and to tell him what little they knew. Bob said he’d contact one or two other areas and see if any of the police had information as to where they thought the meet was going to take place.

  ‘It’s an illegal offence, you know,’ Bob said, ‘as well as being one of the most vile and inhuman acts. I won’t tell you what I’d like to do to the so-and-so’s when I catch them – because that’d be an illegal offence as well.’

  ‘I’m going to try and find Kev,’ Jack told him. ‘Then we ought to meet somewhere.’

  After some deliberation it was decided that they’d both phone in any information they might have gathered to the station and that they’d probably meet up later. Then Jack handed the phone back to the Duty Sergeant and Bob filled him in on what was going on, so that all the patrol cars in the area could be warned to keep their eyes open for any suspicious-looking gatherings of cars, or other clues to the whereabouts of the badger meet.

  Next, Jack drove to Arthur’s house, because that was the only address he had for the builders.

  Arthur was having his tea and watching snooker on television.

  ‘What’s up, Mr Green?’ he asked, when his wife showed Jack and William into the little kitchen, then he continued to munch slowly while Jack explained the reason for their visit.

  ‘Yes, I dare say Kev might be involved,’ he said when Jack finished. ‘He’s a bit of a sports freak. He’s a great supporter of Bagdale F.C.’

  ‘This isn’t sport, Arthur,’ William cut in. ‘It’s really horrible. D’you know what they do to the badgers?’

  Arthur sniffed slowly and stared at William shortsightedly.

  ‘Keen on badgers, are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ William exclaimed. Then he added, ‘Well, no. I mean, I’ve hardly ever seen one. But I don’t think it’s right that men should set fierce dogs on any wild animal. I mean, that can’t be right, can it?’

  Arthur sniffed again and mashed potato into the gravy on his plate.

  ‘I like the television, myself. You don’t get wet, watching television. A builder doesn’t like the outdoors. Too much like work.’

  Eventually he revealed that Kev had recently moved to the town and that he was living in the same street as Dan.

  ‘He’ll tell you which house. I don’t know. I like to keep out of things, myself. Avoid trouble, that’s my line. Isn’t it, Mother?’ he said, staring now at his wife, who was pouring hot water into a teapot.

  ‘We keep ourselves to ourselves,’ she agreed, in a dull voice.

  Impatiently Jack wrote down Dan’s address and after being told the directions by Arthur, he and William hurried out of the house and back to the Land-Rover.

  ‘How he could just sit there . . . eating . . . He didn’t care about the badgers . . .’ William complained.

  ‘You’ll find a lot of people are like that, Will,’ Jack told him.

  But Dan wasn’t one of them. As soon as he heard what they had to say he ran across the street to Kev’s house and banged on the door. At first there was no reply and they thought they were too late, but then a woman looked out of an upstairs window and shouted down to them to go away.

  ‘We’re looking for Kev,’ Dan shouted.

  ‘Well, you’ve missed him. He went out not half an hour since,’ the woman replied. ‘Now get off my doorstep! I’m watching telly and you’re stopping me.’

  ‘Did he say where he was going?’ Jack called.

  ‘He’s walking that blessed dog up in the forest somewhere,’ she shouted. ‘If you see him, tell him to bring himself in some fish and chips, ’cause I’ve gone to bed with Frankenstein!’ and with a bellow of laughter, she slammed the window shut again.

  ‘He could be anywhere,’ Jack said, gloomily.

  ‘No. Come on,’ Dan exclaimed. ‘There aren’t that many roads through the forest – besides, he hasn’t got a car. He lost his licence, drinking and driving . . .’

  ‘He has a friend called Ted,’ William volunteered. ‘At least, that’s who he was with when we found him up at the sett.’

  ‘Ted? Ted Jenkins?’ Dan asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ William shrugged.

  ‘I bet it is,’ Dan said. ‘He’s a right little troublemaker. You know the sort: “We are the champions!” and Union Jack shorts! Well, that gives us a start. Ted’s got an old black van – if we look for that, we’ll mebbe find them.’

  ‘But – look where?’

  ‘Every track in the forest, if need be,’ Dan replied. ‘I hate cruelty. I hate it. What did the animals ever do to the likes of Kev and Ted
Jenkins? It would serve them right if the animals turned on them.’

  ‘I can’t see us covering the whole of the forest,’ Jack said, glumly.

  ‘We can get Bob Parker to look as well,’ William suggested. ‘We’ve got to do something, Uncle Jack.’

  Jack returned to the police station and reported what little they’d managed to discover. Then they set out once more for the forest.

  Just as Jack turned the Land-Rover on to the Moor Road, a fox jumped out in front of his headlights, making him swerve on to the verge.

  ‘Wow! That was close!’ he said. ‘I never saw him coming.’

  As he was still speaking, William, who was sitting next to him, opened his door and jumped out. He ran into the darkness at the side of the road.

  ‘Cinnabar?’ he called, in a whisper. ‘Cinnabar!’

  ‘Oh? You’re talking to me now, are you?’ a voice in his head whispered. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to come and see me, ever since you arrived back in the valley. We knew you were here. But I gather you were so busy not believing, that you didn’t even believe what you already knew you believed.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ William whispered, in a contrite voice.

  ‘Will?’ Jack called, from the Land-Rover. ‘Can you see anything? I didn’t hit it, did I?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so,’ William called. ‘I’m just coming.’ Then, in a whisper, he continued; ‘But where, Cinnabar? Where are we to look?’

  ‘Blackscar Quarry,’ the fox replied. ‘I’ll be there before you are!’ and, as the final words formed in William’s head, the fox retraced his steps across the road, flashing red in the lights of the Land-Rover once more.

  ‘There he is,’ Dan shouted from the back seat. ‘I just saw the fox again.’

  ‘Come on, Will,’ Jack called. ‘We’re wasting time.’

  ‘Have you got the map, Uncle Jack?’ William asked as he climbed back into the motor.

  ‘No. You had it. Remember?’ Jack replied.