Walker

by Shoo Rayner

  ‘Oh, Walker!’ Mum sighed loudly. ‘You can’t just start up a business at your age. I mean, surely you need a licence or training or something?’

  ‘Is a good thing!’ said Mr Bonus, lurching out of the storeroom at the back of the shop, weighed down by a giant box of toilet rolls. ‘Is good for Walker to be businessman.’

  ‘But I’m a local councillor,’ Mum protested. ‘I have to uphold the law!’

  ‘Is no law!’ Mr Bonus laughed. ‘He just a boy. No worries about licence – no one cares about licence for boy – it’s pocket for money. It’s big initiative.’ Mr Bonus put an arm round Walker and patted him on the head. ‘He’s a good boy. You should be proud!’

  Anje winked at Walker.

  Mum tut-tutted and shook her head all the way home.

  A folded piece of paper sat waiting for them on the doormat. Walker’s name was written on the outside in wobbly biro. Inside was a wobbly biro message:

  It was signed Jenny Little and the address was Hazeldean – Number 34, the High Street.

  ‘That’s the lady in the house with the pretty garden,’ said Mum. ‘That’s okay, I don’t mind you helping her. I don’t think she can walk very far. She could do with someone to help walk her dog.’

  ‘Does that mean I can go and see her about it?’ Walker asked. He put his sweetest face on. The one that Mum could never say no to. ‘Can I?’

  ‘Oh, alright, but come straight back and tell me what you’ve agreed.’

  At that exact same moment, Mr and Mrs Sowerby in Chestnut Avenue stood at their open front door, waggling a dog lead, enthusiastically calling inside the house, ‘Come on, Khan … walkies!’

  Khan, an old, tired chow, padded into the hallway from his bed in the study. His tired, hooded, old eyes observed the smiling couple trying to chivvy him along. His tired, old ears only heard bits of what they were saying.

  Khan took one look at the lead, turned around, padded back to his bed and collapsed in a heap of fur and snuffled complaints. The Sowerbys gently closed the front door, gave each other a meaningful look and followed Khan to the study. They patted the old dog on the head and stroked his thick, thick fur.

  ‘Oh, Khan,’ they sighed. ‘What are we going to do with you?’

  Khan snorted, laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes. He was old and tired. He couldn’t be bothered going for walkies anymore.

  He snuffled and growled, dreaming that he was his young self again, remembering how he would run about Foxley Fields, barking his head off, letting all the other dogs know who was in charge! He wasn’t ready to give up. There was a little bit of life in the old dog yet.

  ‘Hello,’ said Walker. ‘I’m Walker.’

  The lady who’d answered the door looked a little confused.

  ‘I’m … the dog walker?’ Walker reassured her. ‘You left a message at our house?’

  Jenny Little looked surprised. ‘Oh! I was expecting someone a bit older. The drawing in the shop window looked like an … adult.’

  Stella bounced out of the door and jumped up onto Walker’s legs.

  ‘Stella!’ Jenny scolded. ‘That’s very naughty!’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Walker laughed. ‘She’s lovely!’

  Stella licked Walker’s face, made excited doggy noises, and thumped her waggy tail against the door frame.

  ‘She likes you!’ Jenny smiled. ‘You’d better come in.’

  Walker told Jenny all about himself and his new business, while Jenny made a pot of tea. ‘Would you like some cake?’ she asked, showing him a gorgeous, plump Victoria sponge. ‘It’s homemade?’

  He told her about his mum’s dog allergy, how he had always wanted to have a dog and why he’d started a dog-walking business. ‘It’s the best of both worlds,’ he explained. ‘I get to be with dogs but without my family being involved.’

  After two slices of cake, Walker and Jenny were like old friends. Walker sat on the sofa with Stella next to him. She let him stroke her long, soft, fluffy ears while she looked up at him with adoring eyes.

  ‘Well, you certainly have a way with dogs,’ Jenny laughed. ‘She’s putty in your hands! I’d be happy to let you take her out for walks. I can’t walk very far anymore and she really needs a good run every day. How much do you charge? I’m not rich, I can’t pay you much.’

  ‘I’d walk Stella for free,’ Walker said immediately. ‘It’s not about the money. I just want to be with dogs.’

  ‘Well, that really is a competitive rate!’ laughed Jenny. ‘But that wouldn’t be fair. Maybe you could walk Stella after school every day and at the weekends. Would ten pounds each week be enough?’

  Ten pounds – he’d be rich in no time! He was about to spit on his hand, like Mr Bonus had, but thought that maybe that was a bit too Lithuanian for Jenny. ‘It’s a deal!’ he said.

  Stella sighed contentedly and rested her head in Walker’s lap.

  ‘Can you start tomorrow?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘I’d start today,’ said Walker, ‘but Mum says I have to go home and tell her what we’ve agreed first.’

  Jenny nodded. ‘That’s very sensible. Good! I’ll see you tomorrow after school.’

  Walker pedalled like a maniac all the way home. He was so excited. Stella was gorgeous.

  He and Mum agreed that he’d come home and get changed after school before he went dog walking. He’d have special dog clothes, which he would always have to change in and out of in the garage before he came into the house. Then he’d have to wash his hands with antibacterial soap. He had to be careful to protect his mum from dog hair.

  ‘I’m putting my injection thing here on the hall table so we all know where it is,’ she told Walker and Dad after supper. ‘Just in case!’

  Lucy Lou’s nose twitched. As Walker bent down to stroke her, she smelled the dog on him. Her fur frizzed up, making her look like a giant, round furball. She leaped up the stairs and sat shivering on the fifth step from the top, mewing like a pathetic little kitten.

  ‘You’ve upset her,’ Dad whined. ‘Must you do this dog-walking thing? Lucy Lou hates dogs.’ He picked up his little darling, took her to the sitting room and settled down for the night, watching a programme about volcanoes on the geography channel.

  Nothing was going to stop Walker. No one was going to thwart his plans. He could barely sleep that night. At school the next day, he scarcely heard a word that Miss Coleshaw said in class. All he could think about was Stella. The hands on the class clock went round so-o-o-o-o sl-o-o-o-wly!

  At the school gate, Mum wouldn’t stop talking rubbish about what Skylar’s mum had said to Macey’s mum about Daniel’s mum, who was going away again on another expensive holiday, leaving Daniel with his grandparents… Walker liked Daniel and felt sorry for him, but Stella was waiting for him.

  He sighed loudly and kept walking off purposefully, hoping Mum would follow him home. Eventually she did.

  Walker changed into his dog-walking clothes, got on his bike, snuck down Lime Passage, crossed the High Street at the crossing, rode down the pavement, unlatched the gate at Number 34 and leaned his bike up against the front porch.

  He didn’t need to ring the doorbell. Stella came bounding around the side of the house, bouncing like a spring lamb. Jenny appeared behind her.

  ‘I thought it must be you,’ she said. ‘Stella has been in such an excitable mood today, it’s like she knew you were coming!’

  Jenny suggested he could go out of the gate at the bottom of the garden and through the trees to Foxley Field where, if he felt confident, he could let Stella off the lead for a run about.

  ‘You’ll need these too,’ she said, handing Walker some thin plastic bags. ‘It’s the worst bit of dog-walking, but you’ll soon get used to it. There’s a dog-poo bin by the gate near the church. You can drop it there.’

  Walker stared at the plastic bags. They were green and silky to the touch. He’d looked up lots about dog-walking on line and this was the bit he wasn’t really looking forward
to.

  ‘Have fun,’ Jenny called, as they disappeared into the trees. She smiled and shook her head. She wasn’t sure which of the two would have the most fun … Walker or Stella!

  The gate closed behind them with a click. Walker stepped out alone – with a dog – on his own – with Stella.

  All his life, Walker had dreamed of this day.

  Leaves rustled in the warm spring breeze. Birds twittered on the branches. Blue sky shone in patches through the tree canopy above him. Midges danced in shafts of sunlight that streamed down through the trees, dappling the bluebells. He savoured every tiny detail so he would never forget. The heady perfume of the bluebells stamped the moment on his memory forever.

  He’d always imagined there would be a magic sort of electricity flowing through the lead between him and a dog. But now he was here … the lead was just an old bit of leather, limp in his hand.

  He felt a different sort of magic though: excitement and trepidation at the same time. A tiny power source was beating, pulsing deep inside him. It was something to do with being on his own, in charge, trusted and responsible. But it was also being alone with Stella, connected to her by invisible threads of … what?

  Stella picked a stick up in her mouth and trotted along beside him, happy and content.

  Every now and then, she’d drag him over to a tree so she could sniff the smells left by other dogs. Then she would wee! Walker watched her from the corner of his eye, to see if there was a poo that needed cleaning up … not yet! It was amazing how many times she could wee though!

  The strip of woods behind Jenny’s house opened up into Foxley Fields. Walker had known it all his life. His family had picnicked there, flown kites and gone sledging down the hill at the far end if it snowed.

  Foxley Fields and the village green were the two places where villagers came to play and be together. The village fête was held here at the end of the summer holidays. Cakes, flowers and vegetables were shown and judged on the green. The fête sports and dog show were held across the road, behind the church.

  Dog show? Walker wondered if … maybe?

  Stella dropped the stick at his feet and gave him a hopeful look.

  ‘Do you want me to throw it for you?’

  Stella crouched and wagged her tail.

  ‘Okay, I’m going to let you off the lead, Stella. Promise you’ll come back when I call you?’

  Stella made an excited, whiny, whistly noise that seemed to say yes, so Walker unclipped the lead and let her run free.

  He threw the stick high into the air. ‘Go fetch, girl!’ he laughed out loud. He felt set free himself.

  Stella chased after the stick, never taking her eyes off it. The stick bounced and she caught it clean.

  ‘Well done!’ Walker called to her. ‘Now bring it back!’

  She bounded back, slowed to a trot, circled round behind him and dropped the stick at his feet. She sat, panting and dribbling, waiting for Walker to throw it again.

  And that’s how they played for the next half hour, throwing, catching, running and jumping, until something caught Stella’s eye … a rabbit!

  Rabbits were the one thing she couldn’t resist. The sight of one made her forget everything. She was off like a rocket!

  ‘Stella! Come back!’ Walker took off after her, crashing through a screen of low-hanging oak leaves into the darker woods at the top of the hill.

  He followed the sound of her barking. Dark, twisted, gnarly tree trunks surrounded him. The thin path led around a rocky outcrop. The last thing Walker expected, as he turned the corner, was to hear a man’s deep voice.

  ‘You! Boy! What d’you think you’re doing on my land?’

  Anje, Mr Bonus’s daughter, stepped out into the sunshine of the yard at the back of the shop. She’d been ripping open cardboard boxes full of tins and putting the price stickers on beans and spaghetti hoops, then filling up any empty shelves in the shop. She sat down on the old bench with her cup of tea and let the sun warm her face.

  Boss padded over and sat down beside her. He loved Anje. He’d known her as long as he could remember. When she was little, she rode on his back like he was a pony.

  ‘Oh Boss,’ she sighed, putting her arms around the big dog’s neck, burying her face into his fur. Sometimes she wished that she could just have a bit of time on her own to do her own thing.

  The shop never stopped. There was always some job or other, opening boxes, stacking shelves, folding empty boxes, taking out the rubbish, smiling at the customers. She’d known how to operate the cash till since she was eight. When she wasn’t doing all that, she had to help with the cooking and do her homework!

  Anje drained her tea, picked up the brush and pan by the back door, scooped up Boss’s poos that were dotted around the yard and, holding her breath and wrinkling her nose, dropped them into the poo bin. She gave Boss one last hug and went back to stacking soap powder.

  ‘Well, Boy! Has the cat got your tongue?’ Arlington Wherewithal and his gamekeeper, Osmo, blocked the path. They both carried shotguns crooked under their arms. The guns were broken open, ready for loading. They were safe, but intimidating. Walker had never seen a gun in real life before and he felt very nervous.

  ‘I-I-I’m walking my dog,’ he stammered.

  ‘I see no dog!’ Arlington boomed, in a theatrical sort of way, looking all around him in an exaggerated manner. He laughed at his little joke and Osmo bared his teeth in a sort of grin.

  Just then, Stella bounded towards them. When she saw the two men, she screeched to a halt and cowered behind Walker.

  Arlington narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s not your dog! That’s Mrs Little’s dog.’

  ‘Miss,’ said Walker.

  ‘What?’ Arlington wasn’t used to boys answering back. Arlington wasn’t used to boys at all.

  ‘Er … it’s Miss Little,’ Walker corrected. ‘She’s not Mrs. I’m walking her dog for her. I’ve started a dog-walking business.’

  Walker pulled one of his small adverts out of his pocket and showed it to Arlington, who examined it closely. An insincere smile crept across his unnaturally suntanned face, like a fungus spreading across a rotten orange.

  ‘Walker the dog walker!’ he said in a slow, drawn-out, meaningful way. ‘Is Walker your name?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Ha!’ he said at last. ‘That’s most enterprising! I like to see a boy setting up in business and making some money. Reminds me of myself when I was young. I was breeding dogs by the time I was twelve and started my dog food company when I was sixteen. I was a millionaire before I was twenty-one, y’know? Good for you! Now, get off my land!’

  Arlington made a strange high-pitched whistle through his teeth. Seconds later, his two pointers bounded up the path behind him. They stood to attention either side of their master and stared menacingly at Walker and Stella. Stella whimpered. Walker had read enough dog books and seen enough training videos to know not to stare back at them. His eyes drifted upwards until they met Arlington’s cold, dazzling blue gaze.

  ‘Come on, Stella, let’s go.’ Walker clipped the lead onto Stella’s collar and turned to take her home. ‘Sorry, sir. We won’t come here again.’

  He could feel Arlington’s frosty stare boring into his back. He only felt safe again when they broke through the edge of the trees and felt the freeing sunshine of Foxley Fields shine down on them.

  ‘I need a poo!’ said Stella.

  For a moment, Walker thought that he’d just heard Stella say that she needed a poo. He stared at her and frowned. Had Arlington Wherewithal freaked him out so much he’d started hearing things?

  Stella was busy. She stared at him in a cross-eyed sort of way. She was doing a poo on the grass! She bounced up, turned around and sniffed her work.

  ‘You’d better bag that up,’ she said.

  Walker let his mouth hang wide open in astonishment! ‘Stella! You can talk!’

  Stella tilted her head. ‘Well, of course,’ she said. ‘All dogs
can talk.’

  ‘But…’ Walker was lost for words.

  She took a deep breath. ‘All dogs can talk,’ she repeated. ‘It’s just that not many humans can understand.’

  ‘But…’ Walker was still lost for words.

  ‘You must be what humans call a dog whisperer. It’s a stupid name. You’re not whispering at all, you’re talking quite normally. You can talk to dogs and dogs can talk to you.’

  ‘But…’ Walker was so confused.

  ‘I’ve never met one, before,’ Stella continued, ‘but I’ve heard about them. Pixie at Number 42 went to a dog whisperer once. She said he was very nice and he convinced her to stop chewing shoes and slippers.’

  Walker found his voice again. ‘How did he do that?’

  She snuffled a laugh. ‘He told her she might catch verrucas on the end of her nose and would end up looking like a stick of broccoli!’

  He laughed. ‘So, you mean we can talk to each other?’

  ‘Isn’t that what we are doing now?’

  Walker had a million questions to ask, but didn’t know where to begin. ‘What about Miss Little, I mean Jenny, can she talk to you?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Stella shook her head violently. She’d got leaves in her ears while chasing the rabbit. ‘Dog whisperers are very rare, you know? Jenny is so sweet, I couldn’t hope to live with anyone kinder. I understand a bit of what she says, but not like I can understand you. It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I don’t understand her at all, which usually means I’ve done something naughty – which reminds me!’

  Stella tilted her head towards the poo, as if to say, ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’