by Jenny Dale
“So all we have to worry about now is the pantomime,” said Gina.
“Will it still go on?” Neil asked.
“Yes, of course it will!” Beth sounded cheerful and determined. “We’ve still got a week. Now that Denny’s back we can do anything! Emily, I’ll give you a ring about rehearsals on Boxing Day, OK?”
“But I’ve hurt my ankle,” Emily said. Neil could see she was trying hard not to cry. “I can’t be in it.”
“Oh, yes, you can,” said Beth. “I’m not having you drop out now; not when you’ve done so much to get Denny back.”
“Dr Harvey says I mustn’t walk on it.”
“Then you can do your part sitting down.” Beth refused to be put off. “Don’t worry, I’ll work it out. You can still sing, can’t you?”
Emily started to smile, even though she had to wipe away a tear or two. Neil and the others pretended not to notice.
“And another thing, Neil,” Beth went on. “I’ve been thinking. When we do the pantomime there are a lot of scenes where Denny isn’t on. I’ve too much to do to look after him myself, and so has Gina, so I need somebody to be responsible for him. How would you like to be the pantomime’s official dog handler?”
Neil stared at her. He’d resigned himself to being out of the pantomime altogether. Now he felt so pleased he thought he was going to burst.
“Dog handler?” he echoed. “You bet! That’s what I do best!”
On the way home the roads were dark and silent. Very few cars were out. Carole drove slowly and carefully; the snow gleamed an eerie white in the car headlights. At long last the Range Rover turned into the drive of King Street Kennels.
“Made it!” said Carole.
As she switched off the engine the front door opened and Bob came down the steps.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “What took so long?”
Carole passed a hand over her face. Neil thought that she looked tired.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “I’ll tell you in a few minutes. Can you take Emily indoors, while we put this dog food away?”
“Sure.” Bob swung Emily up into his arms and carried her off up the steps into the house. Neil thought he hadn’t even noticed Nick.
Everyone else got out of the car. Neil had to give Sam a shove from behind; the Border collie had fallen asleep during the drive, but Neil thought he was none the worse for his excursion. He followed Neil through the side gate, while Carole and Nick unloaded the cases of dog food Carole had bought at the Cash and Carry.
Neil went to open up the store for his mother and Nick to begin stacking boxes, but the room already looked full.
“The Preston’s van must have been,” Carole said, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Wouldn’t you just know! I needn’t have gone to the Cash and Carry at all.”
“And then we wouldn’t have found Denny,” Neil pointed out. “Or Nick.”
From his cosy nest in Neil’s jacket, Jake gave a little yap of agreement.
“All right, mutt,” Neil said affectionately. “We all know you found him really.”
It didn’t take long for the extra food to be stored and Carole to close up the store room. Nick said to her:
“I see you’ve got a barn, missus.”
“That’s right.”
“Mebbe I could sleep there, instead of in the house? I don’t feel right under a roof. I’ve not slept in a proper bed for years.”
“Well . . .”
Carole was hesitating, but Neil thought Nick’s idea was a really good one. The barn was partially heated, and there was plenty of straw there, kept for the dogs’ bedding. Nick could have blankets and a sleeping bag from the house. Now that he thought about it, Neil wouldn’t have minded spending the night there himself.
“Emily’d be pleased,” he said. “She won’t have to share with Squirt.”
“Well, Nick, if it’s really what you’d prefer . . .” Carole said.
Nick’s creased smile reappeared. “That’d be just grand, missus.”
As they crossed the courtyard to the back door, Bob appeared. He bent down, stroked Sam’s head, and felt for his heartbeat.
“Seems OK,” he said, “but it wasn’t a good idea to take him out like that, Neil. We’ll keep an eye on him for a day or two, and if there seems to be a problem we’ll call Mike.”
He let Sam go, and the Border collie slipped past him into the house. Bob shook hands with Nick.
“Hello. Emily told me you looked after Denny. Welcome to King Street. I hear you’re spending Christmas with us?”
“Seems like it, mister.” Nick touched his forehead as if he might have lifted his cap to Bob. “And your missus says I might help with the dogs, like. I love dogs.”
“That’s fine, Nick. I’m sure we can find you some odd jobs to do.”
While Nick and Bob were talking, Carole was tapping her foot impatiently. “Bob,” she said, “do you think we could all go inside and get warm?”
“Yes – yes, of course.” For the first time Neil thought his father was looking a bit agitated. Surely nothing else could go wrong now? “You see the Preston’s delivery came?” his dad asked, still standing in the doorway. “Not long ago. I’d just about given them up.”
“Yes, Bob,” Carole said, starting to sound irritated. “But do we have to talk about it out here?”
“And there was an e-mail.” Now Neil was sure his dad was talking for the sake of talking. What was there inside the house that he didn’t want Carole to see? “An e-mail from John Cartwright,” Bob went on wildly. “He wishes us a Happy Christmas, and he says he’s enjoying the sun, but it really isn’t the same without Bernie. Next year he says he’s going to be spending Christmas with his best friend.”
Neil had to think about that, even while he wondered about his dad’s strange behaviour. He’d imagined how pleased John Cartwright would be if he had managed to make Bernie into a proper rescue dog. But he’d failed so far. And now he realized that Bernie was already far more special than just another rescue dog. He was John Cartwright’s best friend. Bernie didn’t need any extra training.
“Bob,” said Carole, with exaggerated patience, “why are we standing on the back step in the freezing cold talking about John Cartwright’s e-mail?”
Bob looked sheepish. “There’s something I should tell you—”
He grabbed at Carole’s arm as she headed past him, missed, and made a face at Neil as they all trooped into the kitchen with Carole in the lead. Neil almost cannoned into his mum as she halted in the doorway.
“Bob!” she said. “What have you done?”
Peering round his mum, Neil stared into the kitchen. It was warm and bright. Delicious cooking smells were wafting from huge pots on top of the stove. At the kitchen table Emily was seated, with her injured foot on a stool. Sarah was sitting on the floor beside Sam’s basket. Both had beaming smiles on their faces. But none of that was what made Neil stare.
The kitchen was full of dogs. Sam was in his basket. Two tiny white puppies, younger even than Jake, were scrambling all over Sarah and licking her face. A bull terrier with a white clown’s face peered round the side of the old basket chair by the window. An Afghan hound, elegant and long-haired, was sprawled over most of the free floor space, while a black Scottie sat beside Emily, stumpy tail wagging as she scratched his wiry coat.
Carole blinked. “Bob – tell me I’m dreaming.”
“Sorry,” said Bob.
“These are the rescue dogs. What are they all doing in here?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. The heating has gone off in the rescue centre, and I don’t know what the matter is. And I won’t be able to get an engineer out until after Christmas.” He spread his arms. “I had to put them somewhere.”
But Bob . . .” Carole still looked appalled. “Bob, I’ve invited Alex Harvey for Christmas lunch. He’ll bring Finn and Sandy as well.”
“More dogs!” Sarah was delighted. “Lots of dogs for
Christmas!”
Suddenly Carole’s laughter bubbled up. She stood there shaking with it.
“If this is a dog’s life,” she gasped out when she could speak again, “then I can’t get enough of it!”
Bob gave her a hug and went to start serving out the supper. Neil picked his way around assorted dogs to put Jake down beside Sam and fetch some food and water. He was turning back with the full bowls when he saw that Jake had grabbed Bob’s slipper and was shaking it fiercely, growling and gnawing with tiny teeth.
“That’s right, Jake,” Neil said. “Save us from Dad’s killer stinky slipper!”
He grinned across the kitchen at Emily, who grinned back.
“This is going to be a great Christmas,” she said.
“A great Christmas,” Neil agreed. “A real, doggy, Puppy Patrol Christmas!”
The Snow Puppy
1
Neil Parker stamped his feet to keep them warm and pulled his cap further down over his spiky brown hair. The fresh wintry air felt biting cold after the warm train carriage he had left a few minutes ago.
“What’s keeping Penny?” he asked. “She said she’d be here to meet us.”
He was standing with his sister Emily on the station forecourt at Beckthwaite in the Lake District. Jake, his young black and white Border collie, barked and danced around, winding his lead around Neil’s legs. He was a healthy and active dog, not much more than a puppy, with glossy fur and bright eyes.
“Give over, you daft dog,” said Neil, laughing. Jake looked up at him, his jaws wide open as if he was laughing too.
“Wow, it’s cold!” said Emily, beginning to shiver. “Much colder than at home.”
Eleven-year-old Neil and his younger sister Emily lived in the small country town of Compton, where their parents ran King Street Kennels, a boarding kennels and rescue centre. The Parkers were so keen on dogs that their friends called them the Puppy Patrol.
Back in Compton there wasn’t any snow, but here it lay thick on the station roof, and long icicles hung from the gutters. Behind the station the hills were huge white mounds against a grey sky.
“I hope Penny likes the Christmas present I bought her,” said Emily. “It’s a book about—”
“There she is!” Neil interrupted, pointing at a large Range Rover which was turning into the station forecourt. As the car drew up beside Neil and Emily, Penny Ainsworth scrambled out of the back seat with her magnificent Great Dane, King. Her face was pink with cold but she was smiling broadly.
“Hi, Penny,” said Neil. “How’s King these days?” He ruffled the big dog’s fur.
Neil and Emily had first met Penny when they spent a week camping near Beckthwaite. King had been suffering from a serious eye condition which threatened his sight. It was mainly due to Neil that King had been able to have the operation he badly needed.
“King’s fine,” said Penny. “See for yourself!”
King was a huge dog with a honey-coloured coat, deep chest and strong legs. Neil bent over, took King’s head in both hands, and peered at him. King accepted the examination calmly, looking back at Neil with eyes that were clear and undamaged.
“You’re looking really well, aren’t you, boy?” Neil held out one of the dog treats he always carried in his pocket. As King lowered his head to take it, Jake pushed his nose in, demanding his share of the titbits.
“This must be Jake,” Penny said, ruffling the fur under his chin. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.” Suddenly serious, she added, “Neil, I was sorry to hear about Sam.”
Neil straightened up. “Yeah, well . . .”
He still found it hard to talk about Sam, Jake’s dad and Neil’s best friend. The Border collie had died heroically a few months before and Neil hadn’t stopped missing him. This would be Neil’s first Christmas without Sam and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“How’s the film going?” Emily asked. Neil guessed she was tactfully trying to change the subject.
Penny’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “It’s very exciting! Max and Prince are great.”
The film was why Neil and Emily were visiting Ainsworth Castle so close to Christmas. Their friend Max Hooper and his dog Prince were the stars of their favourite TV programme, The Time Travellers. On their previous visit he had been looking for a castle to use as Camelot in a feature film about King Arthur. Ainsworth Castle was perfect. Although Penny’s dad, Lord Ainsworth, had taken some persuading before he would allow the company to film there, he eventually saw the sense in it. The fee had paid for King’s operation and helped with the Ainsworths’ other money problems.
While they were talking, Lord Ainsworth had got out of the car. He was a tall man with a bristling moustache and a shapeless tweed hat rammed down over his ears.
He held out a hand to shake. “Neil and Emily. Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” said Emily. She always felt as if Penny’s dad expected her to call him sir.
Lord Ainsworth heaved the Parkers’ luggage into the car boot. “All aboard!” he said cheerfully.
“Do you mind if we walk?” Neil asked. “Jake hasn’t had any exercise yet today, and he’s been stuck on the train for ages.”
“Whatever you like,” said Lord Ainsworth.
He drove off, leaving Neil and the others to walk along the road which led from the station through the centre of the village. All the shops were bright with Yuletide decorations, and nearly every house had a Christmas tree in the window. The faint sound of Christmas carols drifted out from one of the shops and gave them all a warm holiday feeling as they trudged along.
“Thanks for letting us stay, Penny,” said Neil. “I’ve been really looking forward to this break.” It would be five days before he and Emily went home on Christmas Eve.
“No problem,” replied Penny.
“The film sounds great. Are you going to be in it, too?” Emily asked. Neil and Emily were scheduled to have brief walk-on parts.
“Yes. I’m one of Queen Guinevere’s ladies. I have to sit in the background and sew a lot.” Penny made a face. “Tons of the locals are extras too.”
At the other end of the village, a narrow lane led down to Ainsworth Castle. Snowploughs had heaped snow on either side so high that Neil felt he was walking through a white tunnel. Jake scrabbled excitedly at the frozen walls, but King paced along beside Penny with a more dignified air.
“Doesn’t all this snow spoil the filming?” asked Emily as her boots crunched underfoot.
“No, the film is meant to be set in winter.” Penny’s eyes shone. “It’s so exciting! They’ve built a whole village in the clearing beside the lake.”
“Cool!” said Neil.
Jake barked his agreement.
Soon they reached Ainsworth Castle, which was built on an island in the lake itself. It was joined to the shore by a short stone causeway leading to an arched gate with a portcullis. Grey towers rose up behind thick walls and scarlet pennants fluttered from the battlements. There couldn’t be anywhere better, Neil thought, to be King Arthur’s legendary castle Camelot.
“Max said to go straight down to the village,” said Penny. “I won’t come with you. I promised to help wrap Christmas presents.”
“Sure,” said Neil. “See you later, then.”
Penny went off across the causeway with King. The footpath to the set led off to the right through the woods around the lake shore. By now Jake had run off some of his energy, and was trotting at Neil’s heel, only now and again darting away to snuffle in the hollows under the trees.
There were deep ruts in the snow where heavy vehicles had passed, and busy footprints in both directions. Neil and Emily plodded through the slush until they came to the edge of the trees.
Here Neil stopped and pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “Wow! Just look at that!”
Ahead of them stood a medieval village. Small huts built of wood and interlaced branches were grouped around a central square flanked by bigger buildings. One of the
m had a sign saying it was an inn. Neil and Emily could see that the buildings weren’t real, just front and side walls, all held up at the back with wooden supports and metal scaffolding poles.
On one side of the village were parked several modern trailers, with a group of people in medieval costume standing around drinking tea from plastic cups. On the other side, two or three horses with brightly coloured trappings stood calmly beside their handlers. A knight was mounted on one of them, wearing silver armour and a white surcoat with red diagonal stripes. Film cameras were positioned all round the village, trained on the central area.
As Neil and Emily watched, they heard a sudden spate of barking and a golden cocker spaniel came racing into the village square from behind the inn, his silky ears flying and his long, feathery tail flowing out behind him.
“It’s Prince!” said Emily.
Neil bent over, clipped a lead on Jake’s collar and put a hand on the young dog’s muzzle to quieten him – just in case he ruined the scene by barking in reply.
As Prince dashed across the square, Max appeared in costume as Zeno, his character in The Time Travellers. He was running after Prince, only to slip and fall full length in the snow. Behind him, a knight in black armour appeared on a magnificent black horse, and hurtled towards Max, bending low in the saddle as if he was going to slash him with his sword.
“Oh, no!” Emily whispered. “He’ll kill Max!”
As she spoke, a voice yelled, “Cut!” and another man strode out into the square. He was youngish, with fair hair, and was wearing a thick sheepskin jacket with its collar turned up.
“There’s Brian Mason,” Neil said, recognizing the director of The Time Travellers. “What’s eating him? The scene looked all right to me.”
“Where’s Sir Lancelot?” shouted the director.
Max got up and brushed the snow off himself.
Another mounted knight, the one in silver armour, urged his horse forward a few paces into the square. He flicked up his visor. The actor was young and dark-haired, with a bad-tempered expression.