Bird Brain

by Guy Kennaway

  It was decided that Tosca should take the letter to the caravan, but Sunshine insisted on walking beside her. Tosca picked it up in her teeth when they saw Victoria arriving back from town. Victoria sat heavily on a stool by the caravan door, struggling with her wellingtons.

  ‘What’s that?’ Victoria said.

  ‘It’s Banger’s will,’ said Sunshine. ‘Open it.’

  Tosca placed it carefully at Victoria’s feet, and Victoria picked it up and looked at the envelope as she climbed into the caravan, letting the dogs crowd in before closing the door. Banger perched on a gas cylinder to hear developments.

  Victoria pulled the letter from the envelope. She started to read it and then looked quickly through the pages. She stood up, held the letter to her bosom, sat down, smiled, and said, ‘Tom … Look … look … Look what this is.’

  ‘Not another court order?’ Tom said. ‘Jerks.’

  ‘No, it’s not a court order. It’s Banger’s will. It’s addressed to Mr Hudson. It must have come out of the Lanny. Tosca had it in her mouth. She was probably about to eat it, silly dog. Look, it’s dated the day before he died. It’s signed.’

  ‘Ohh,’ said Tom, knitting his brow. ‘Wow. What does it say?’

  ‘Listen to this,’ Victoria gazed at the document. ‘Here. “I leave Llanrisant Hall, its contents and all its land and ancillary buildings, farmhouses and cottages equally to my daughter Victoria and my grandson Tom.”’

  ‘Let me see,’ he said.

  He read it, chuckling. ‘So this overrules the other will?’

  ‘It must. It must,’ said Victoria, her voice rising, ‘because of the date.’

  ‘All right. What, will we split the place up and have half each?’

  ‘No, we’ll share it.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tom, thoughtfully, ‘do you think we might move William and Cary in here?’

  ‘Now that is a very unkind thought.’ Victoria smiled. ‘But think, think what we can do with the estate … For a start, I can shut down the shoot!’

  ‘Oh God,’ thought Banger. ‘Here we go. What have I done?’

  ‘This, this is … Fantastic news! She held the will up and said, ‘Thank you, Banger. Thank you! Wherever you are, thank you, you old bastard!’

  Banger allowed himself a smile.

  ‘But, Mum,’ said Tom, reaching for the will, ‘it’s not witnessed.’ He held out the last page.

  ‘Well, we better fix that,’ she said. She tugged on her wellingtons and with three dogs following her like the choppy wake of a boat, marched over to Bryn’s bungalow. She was in there about half an hour, emerging with a smile.

  ‘How did it go?’ Tom called.

  ‘Signed and sealed,’ she said. ‘Bryn was more than happy to help when I told him what it was for.’

  ‘Right,’ said Victoria, pulling on her vintage afghan coat, ‘put on your shoes, we are going home.’

  They walked with the dogs brushing through the shoulder-high cow parsley. Banger swooped along behind. At the top of the hill a flight of pigeons broke out of the trees far below, and made its easy way across the valley towards the cliffs.

  The dogs were at last out for a tramp with some humans, and the humans felt good about having their dogs alongside them, calling their names when they went too far ahead, and helping them negotiate stiles, fences and the wooden bridges over the brooks.

  Spot heard his name but veered off the path out of sight to see if there was anyone he could give what he referred to as ‘a playful nip’ to. Good luck brought him to a man in a green V-neck sweater who was getting out of a four by four with Denbighshire Countryside Services written on its side.

  Spot trotted up to him.

  ‘Hello,’ said the man, looking closely at Spot. ‘Are you the little dog that all the fuss has been about? You wouldn’t bite me, would you?’

  The man wore rubber walking boots and trousers with pockets on the legs, but between these two items was an irresistible strip of creamy pink hairless flesh, and it was into this that Spot, just having fun, sunk his incisors. The leg jerked back and forth, and Spot hung on for a few ecstatic seconds before darting under the car and bounding off across a field back to Victoria’s side.

  The Countryside Warden rubbed his ankle and reached into the car for pair of binoculars, which he tried to train on Spot. Then he got out his phone and dialled his team leader in an office in Rhyll.

  ‘I’ve come across that dog we’ve had reports about north of Llangollen. It bit me.’

  ‘Did you catch it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’d better fill in an accident report and go to the hospital for a check-up. There’s a risk of rabies.’

  ‘It looks like it’s gone onto the Llanrisant Estate.’

  ‘I’ll ring the dog warden.’

  38

  Stunning Art

  WILLIAM WAS IN his study, gazing out of the window and having a good smell of his fingers, savouring their marmitey bass notes, when he noticed a pair of walkers with three unleashed dogs walking up the drive. No, he corrected himself mentally, not the drive. My drive.

  ‘Who the hell do they think they are? Can’t they read?’ he said under his breath, then recognised Victoria and Tom. He watched them for a little longer, and left the room to find Cary, who was in her study crossing out the names of people in her address book who were no longer rich enough to be friends with.

  ‘Victoria and Tom are coming up the drive.’

  ‘How disgusting,’ Cary said.

  ‘There’s something up.’

  Cary put down her pen. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look.’

  They went to the window. Victoria and Tom were bouncing towards the house, talking animatedly. Victoria swung her arm around, pointing to the woods and the house.

  ‘Wearing that coat should be a criminal offence,’ Cary said. ‘But she looks happy. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Something’s up,’ William murmured.

  ‘I have a bad feeling. And Locket has been acting very oddly.’

  ‘You and that cat. You are a silly thing,’ William said, and then saw the expression change on Cary’s face. ‘No, not stupid silly,’ he corrected himself, ‘sweet silly.’

  The door bell rang.

  ‘I’d better go and see what it is,’ said William.

  Downstairs, William opened the door wide.

  ‘Victoria! Tom! What a nice surprise! Come in, come in. Tea? Coffee?’

  Victoria and Tom crossed the threshold, with the dogs piling behind them.

  ‘Er, better leave them outside,’ William said.

  ‘Like hell,’ said Tosca, forcing her way round his big feet.

  William decided not to push it, and closed the door when they were all inside. Victoria headed for the sitting room. Banger trotted around the outside of the house and flew up to the window ledge, so he could watch them as they filed into the glorious sunlit room.

  ‘I was going to give you a ring to invite you over, but now you are here! What a welcome surprise,’ said William. ‘We haven’t been seeing enough of you; we are all family, after all.’ He held out his arms. Victoria and Tom said nothing. They just stared stonily at him. Victoria then reached into her coat and took out the envelope.

  ‘We have just found this,’ she said, ‘it was in Banger’s Land Rover. It’s his will, he wrote it the day before he died.’

  William levered a joyous smile onto his face, which that instant felt like concrete.

  ‘Have you read it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tom. ‘He left everything to me and Mum.’

  ‘I have to say,’ William said, ‘I am pleased to hear that. I did find it a bit embarrassing to have inherited this old place, much as I love it. It’s not as if I don’t have sufficient resources myself. If there’s anything I can do to smooth the transition and get you in here as fast as possible, I am at your service.’

  Tom eyed William coldly. Victoria smiled.

  ‘That i
s so kind of you. To tell you the truth, I thought you’d be upset.’

  ‘If was Banger’s wish, then it’s mine,’ said William. ‘Can I see it for a moment?’

  ‘NO. NOOOOO,’ shouted Tosca. ‘Don’t let him touch it.’

  ‘We’re going to give it to Mr Hudson, he can show you after he’s looked at it,’ said Tom.

  ‘Is it witnessed?’ William asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tom. ‘It’s legit.’

  Victoria sat on the sofa with the document in her hand; Tosca sat beside her, guarding it closely. She had already marked out the place on William’s bulbous nose that she would bite if he made a grab for the will.

  Cary came in, holding a tray balanced with a pot of tea, cafetière of coffee, milk, sugar, mugs and biscuits. She bared her teeth in a smile that was positively carcinogenic. ‘Hello, everyone!’ she said. ‘Doesn’t that look stunning!’ she said of a strange bronze object standing on the desk that depicted a ferret crucified on a cross.

  ‘Absolutely stunning!’ she cooed. ‘We just bought it! It was fifty-six thousand pounds. Oh. And do look at him.’ She turned to a full-size metal man standing to attention by the curtain. ‘Isn’t he smashing?’

  Locket snaked around the door. ‘What are you lot doing here?’ she said.

  ‘Taking possession,’ said Tosca. ‘You can pack up your tail and get lost.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Locket.

  As Cary came up behind the sofa, she tripped theatrically, shrieked, and threw, not tipped, the contents of the tray over Victoria. Tom instinctively jumped back, Victoria screamed as the scalding coffee went over her. William leapt forward and grabbed the document out of her hand.

  ‘Give that back, it’s mine,’ Victoria said. Luckily the old afghan had borne the brunt of the attack.

  William stepped away and felt for the fire-iron. With the poker in one hand and will in the other he said, ‘It’s not yours any more, nor will it ever be. Did you really expect me to give this all to you, you vegetarian pipsqueak? Do you honestly think you – a filthy, itinerant unmarried mother – deserve to possess a house and estate like this? It runs counter to nature. You belong in a hovel, Victoria. Both of you. You and he,’ he pointed the poker at Tom, ‘are a disgrace to the name Peyton-Crumbe. And nothing, especially not this irrelevant piece of paper, is going to take from me what is rightfully mine.’

  Victoria was up and over the ottoman in a flash, her strong hands struggling to get to William’s neck. ‘Give that back!’ she shouted. William stood back and kicked at her with his polished brogues.

  ‘Don’t you touch me, you repellent woman.’

  Tom rushed at William but Cary jumped over the sofa and grabbed him with an arm lock round his neck and brought him choking to the floor.

  Victoria charged William again, trying to get her teeth into the hand that held the letter, but he punched out and kicked her against a desk. Tom wrestled his way out of Cary’s grip, and grabbed William around the waist, rugby tackling him to the ground, as William thrashed at his back with the poker. Tom reached for William’s hand, and tried to prise open his fingers. William kicked and punched and writhed, but couldn’t shove Tom off. Finally Tom beat William’s fist on the floor until the will dropped onto the rug.

  ‘Grab it, Spot!’ Tosca shouted. ‘Now, run!’

  Spot bit down on the paper and darted out the door. Cary tripped Tom and grabbed onto Victoria as William sped out of the door after Spot.

  ‘Use the cat flap!’ shouted Tosca.

  Spot swerved towards the back door and headed for the translucent plastic egress, with William pounding down the corridor behind him. But Spot couldn’t open the flap. On the other side a dark shape was holding it down. Locket had got there first and was sitting against it. Spot turned round, took a run up, closed his eyes, bit down on the paper, dropped his shoulder and galloped at full speed into the cat flap. There was a screech as the flap catapulted Locket across the courtyard, and swung freely. Spot nipped out just as William got the door.

  Back in the sitting room, Tom had pushed Cary off. ‘Go after Spot,’ Victoria said, ‘I’ll deal with this one.’

  Tom rattled the door handle. ‘William’s locked us in,’ he said. He ran to the window and forced it up, but it jammed on a security lock when it was only open six inches. But six inches was enough for Tosca, who darted outside. Sunshine went behind the sofa for a quiet pee. Her bladder wasn’t as strong as it used to be, especially when she got excited.

  Tom tried to ram the sash up against the steel spigot, but couldn’t budge it. He looked around and picked up the steel sculpture of the man standing erect.

  ‘Not the Gormley!’ shouted Cary and Tosca together.

  Tom ran it at the window like a battering ram, splintering the glazing bars and shattering the panes. He grabbed the bronze statuette of the crucified ferret to clear away the jagged shards, but with his backswing he caught Cary, who was about to leap on him from behind, squarely on the temple. She crumpled like a cow in a slaughterhouse. Tom looked at her motionless body on the rug, then at the bronze in his hand, and then at his mother.

  ‘Well, she did say it was a stunning statue,’ Victoria said.

  In the gun room, William feverishly assembled one of his Churchills while he kept an eye on Spot through the window dancing a happy jig in the courtyard. Spot was having the time of his life, with everyone going berserk about the thing he had in his mouth. A smile crept onto William’s well-fed face as he grabbed at some cartridges, slotted them into the chamber and headed for the door.

  Banger, who had flapped his way on his tiptoes around the house and into the courtyard saw William emerge from the Hall, and shouted, ‘Run, Spot, run!’

  The little tan-and-white terrier sped off across the lawn, but William calmly lifted the firearm and set the bead on Spot’s bounding bottom. William felt the inviting curve of the trigger on his forefinger, and squeezed it. There was the reassuring crack of the ordnance, the gun kicked and Spot somersaulted and lay on the lawn, motionless.

  ‘You killed my dog!’ screamed Tom, appearing round the side of the house. He charged at William and knocked him over. They wrestled on the ground, and Tom tore the gun out of his uncle’s hands.

  At that moment, a white van drove cautiously round the bend of the drive. On its side was written Denbighshire County Council Dog Services. It came to a halt, the driver’s door opened and ex-constable, now Dog Warden, Eryl Powell and Buck, his faithful but exasperated partner, got out. Powell ran to where Spot lay on the lawn. He removed the paper from between Spot’s teeth.

  ‘Rabies?’ he called to Tom, who now stood holding the gun.

  ‘That man shot my dog!’ Tom screamed, pointing at William.

  ‘It has to be done sometimes, son,’ said Powell. To William he said, ‘Well done, sir – we’ve had a lot of reports of this dog’s behaviour. It’s never nice to terminate. But when they endanger the public … He was a dangerous dog.’

  ‘He was not a dangerous dog, he was a naughty boy, but only sometimes,’ Tom said, going to his pet.

  ‘May I have that bit of paper?’ William said, holding out his hand to Powell.

  ‘All in good time. Now let’s get the important business out of the way first, shall we? Name of dog?’

  ‘Give me that bit of paper,’ William snapped.

  Powell had never much liked William Peyton-Crumbe, and now enjoyed having some power over him. ‘Shall we just do the necessary first, sir?’ He said, giving a professional smile. He leafed through some forms on a clipboard. ‘Dum de dum de dum.’

  ‘Right. I am going to speak to my lawyer,’ William said. ‘You are in a lot of trouble. A lot. This will probably get you fired, you realise that?’

  Eryl Powell licked his pencil and read the form. William strode off to the house.

  Tom was holding Spot in his arms, weeping.

  ‘Buck!’ Tosca called to the Alsatian. ‘Over here.’

  ‘Hello, Tosca, how are
you?’

  ‘We haven’t got much time,’ she said. ‘Come with me.’

  She led Buck round the log shed to the greenhouse.

  ‘Remember the cartridge used to kill Banger?’ she said. ‘We found the box it came from.’

  ‘Of course I remember,’ said Buck. ‘Where is it?’

  Tosca started to dig, tearing at the needle-covered earth with her paws, dusting her silky coat in earth.

  ‘Here!’ she said. ‘Look!’

  A piece of cardboard poked out of the dry flaky dirt at the bottom of the hole.

  ‘Let me take over,’ said Buck, ‘we need to preserve the evidence.’ He looked up at her importantly. ‘This is now a crime scene.’

  ‘It could have sperm on it,’ Sunshine said, trotting up behind them.

  ‘What?’ said Buck, lifting his head. ‘You mean there’s a sexual element to the crime? That man is worse than I thought. The depths to which some humans will sink.’

  He pawed away some more dirt. ‘It certainly looks like a cartridge box. I think we need help. I’ll call for back-up,’ said Buck. He barked into the air, ‘Eryl! Eryl! Come here, you idiotic man!’

  The fronds of rhododendron parted and Powell poked his head through the gap.

  ‘Good boy,’ said Buck. He then pawed the ground in front of him.

  ‘What have you got there?’ Powell said.

  ‘Look in the hole, you halfwit,’ Tosca said.

  ‘This is no time for digging for bones,’ said Powell. ‘Come on, come with me.’ He attached the leash and yanked Buck off through the undergrowth. ‘We have important work to do, you and me.’

  Banger had followed Sunshine to the greenhouse, and he now crept towards the hole, ‘Tosca,’ he said, ‘you’ve got small paws, climb in and dig around the box, carefully, though.’

  Tosca stared at him.

  ‘Please,’ he said.

  Tosca got to work, slowly exposing the cartridge box.

  ‘It says twenty bore on the packet,’ said Banger, looking into the hole.

  ‘Right, out the way,’ Sunshine said to Tosca. ‘You need a soft mouth for this.’ She bent forward and carefully grasped the box in her mouth, reversed out and set off through the bushes.