Dexter

by Jesse Blackadder

  It was a picture of Bella and Puppy together on a patch of grass. There was no message with the photo. What did it mean? Had Emma, in spite of everything, convinced her parents to secretly pick up Puppy for her?

  Ashley felt a strange tightness in her belly, which took her by surprise. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure how she felt about Puppy.

  ‘Ashley! What are you doing?’

  Ashley jumped and nearly dropped the phone.

  Micky had come back down the steps and was standing at the bottom, hands on hips. ‘You know you’re not meant to have the phone!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Ashley stammered. ‘It’s just — I thought playing a game would help me stay awake.’

  Micky glared at her. ‘Not good enough, kid. I need you to stick by what you say. Hand it over.’

  Ashley pulled the plug out of the phone and put it in her aunt’s hand. ‘But something’s happened.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Micky said. ‘You’ve made a commitment to look after Dexter and that’s all that matters right now.’

  ‘He hasn’t made any noise,’ Ashley said.

  ‘He’s probably eating leaf in that case,’ Micky said. ‘I’m going back to bed.’ She turned away and clumped painfully up the stairs again.

  Ashley settled down on the couch and switched off the light. Her brain was buzzing furiously as she tried to work out what might be going on. Was Puppy waiting for her at Emma’s? Did her parents know?

  And most of all — why was she suddenly unsure how she felt about him?

  Chapter 21

  It was pitch dark when Ashley woke up, but she knew at once where she was. Dexter must be hungry, she thought. He must have made a noise to wake her.

  She lay still, waiting to hear it again. The night was chilly — the fire in the wood stove must have burnt low and it was only early spring. For the first time since she’d arrived, she couldn’t hear rain falling on the roof.

  In fact, it was strangely quiet. She couldn’t hear anything. She felt around for the torch, slid out of bed and flicked it on. The kitchen clock said 2.43.

  Ashley felt a pang of worry. Dexter should have been calling out for food hours earlier. He hadn’t eaten, apart from the glucose and water, since sometime the previous night. From what Micky said, he should have been bouncing around his room, climbing the tree, eating leaves, playing and calling out for milk. But she hadn’t heard a thing.

  She crept to the door of his room and put her ear against the wood. But on the other side was only silence.

  Ashley realised she was shivering. What if something was wrong with Dexter? Micky had said to leave him alone if he didn’t make a noise, but surely she didn’t mean for this long? Maybe he wasn’t calling for food because he was alone and he didn’t know that someone was waiting to feed him. Or maybe he was in trouble.

  She felt for the door handle and softly opened the door, making sure she kept the torch pointed towards the floor so she didn’t startle him with the light. The rest of the room was gloomy and it took her eyes a few moments to adjust as she scanned the branches of the stumpy dead tree fastened to a climbing frame that she and Micky had put up earlier. Where on earth had Dexter gone?

  She stood on tiptoe to peer into the basket, which was hanging off one of the branches. She saw something furry inside, but realised it was only the teddy.

  She looked up at the tree again, and then saw him. He’d wedged himself into a fork surrounded by leaves. He was slumped there, leaning on the branches, just staring blankly ahead.

  There was something about the way he was sitting that made Ashley’s heart start to pound. It didn’t look natural. He wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t curled up, he wasn’t gripping the branch. It didn’t look like he’d touched any of the leaves that they had carefully chosen for him.

  ‘Oh, Dexter,’ she said.

  He gave no sign that he’d heard her voice.

  Ashley backed out of the room, then turned and ran up the stairs to her aunt’s bedroom, not caring how much racket she made. ‘Micky! Wake up!’

  She accidentally flicked the torch beam right onto Micky’s face and her aunt flung up an arm.

  ‘Jeez, kid, watch the light,’ Micky grunted, and sat up. ‘What’s going on? Is it feed time?’

  ‘He’s not doing anything. He hasn’t eaten anything, he hasn’t called out for food, nothing. He’s just sitting there in the fork, staring.’

  Micky sighed. ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘Just before three.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound too good. I suppose you want me to take a look?’ Micky got out of bed, put on her slippers and grabbed a dressing gown.

  Ashley led the way down the stairs, chafing at Micky’s slow progress. But at last they reached the koala room and went inside.

  Micky rubbed her eyes and then studied Dexter. ‘I don’t think there’s much we can do here, Ash.’

  ‘But you convinced him to drink before. Even when he wasn’t calling for food. Can’t you do that again?’

  ‘If he doesn’t want to drink, then he probably doesn’t want to live. It’s better to just let him go.’

  Ashley shook her head. She wasn’t ready to do that. ‘His mother has only just died. He probably misses her. You said he can’t be near other koalas, but he can be near us. Why can’t we keep him company until he gets over her?’

  Micky was silent for what felt like ages. At last she said, ‘All right, Ash. Looks like he’ll die otherwise, so we’ll try giving him some comfort. Get his blanket and teddy and sit down. I’m going to reach up and get him from the branch, and put him on your lap. You can give him a little scratch and let him feel the warmth of your body, while I get his formula ready. Then we’ll try convincing him to drink.’

  Ashley gave her aunt a grateful look. ‘Thanks, Micky.’ She took the blanket and teddy out of the basket and sat down on the beanbag in the corner. Micky reached up and slowly lifted Dexter out of the fork. He barely moved as she turned around and lowered him onto Ashley’s lap. He was limp, but he still managed to sit. Micky offered him the teddy, but he ignored it.

  ‘Poor little thing,’ Micky murmured. She stood watching Dexter for a moment, then turned and went out of the room.

  Ashley could hear Micky getting the feed ready in the kitchen. She looked down at Dexter herself and felt her eyes fill with tears. Perhaps it was true what Micky had said. He looked as though he’d lost all of his life force.

  Ashley bit her lip to choke back tears and slowly lifted her hand. She found the little spot on the back of his neck that she’d scratched before and sank her fingers into Dexter’s fur. When she felt his skin, she started to rub it gently with her fingertips.

  Dexter didn’t move. It was like scratching a toy koala, except that he was warm. Ashley couldn’t stop the tears falling as she kept going. It looked like he was going to die right there on her lap, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  How do you show love to a koala? she wondered. It was easy with a dog. You could show a dog you loved it, and it returned the feeling; you understood each other. Even cats, though they were more aloof, knew you cared about them. At the very least, feeding an animal showed it that you cared. But if Dexter wouldn’t eat, what other way was there? How could you show a wild creature that you loved it?

  She couldn’t force love on him, she realised. She couldn’t force him to eat, and she couldn’t force him to live.

  The only thing she could do was sit still and be there with him. It was up to Dexter to accept comfort from her. Or not.

  Chapter 22

  Micky knelt on the floor in front of the beanbag and held out the bottle. She gently nudged Dexter’s mouth and squeezed a few drops of milk out.

  Dexter ignored the milk. He didn’t even bother turning his head away: just let it run down his chin.

  Ashley couldn’t help herself. A sob escaped her lips.

  ‘You’ve got a job to do here, Ash,’ Micky said, not taking her eyes off Dexter. ‘Koala mums and babie
s talk to each other in little grunts and squeaks. You and I are going to talk to Dexter like that, to try and get his attention and let him know there’s someone with him.’

  Micky held the bottle steady and started making little grumbling, grunting noises. If she hadn’t been so upset, Ashley would have thought they sounded funny. She swallowed and tried to ignore the lump in her throat. She made an experimental grunt. It came out all wrong, but she tried again and the second one was better. Micky nodded.

  They both murmured and grunted, but Dexter remained hunched over, ignoring them. Then Ashley had an idea. She’d heard him calling for food and for his mother several times, and she reckoned she had a good idea of what he sounded like.

  ‘Yip yip yip,’ she tried. It wasn’t quite right, but Micky raised an eyebrow and nodded.

  Ashley tried again, and again. ‘Yip yip yip.’ By the fourth time, she thought she’d just about got it.

  Her fingers were still buried in Dexter’s fur and she felt a slight ripple underneath them. He’d moved, just a little.

  ‘Keep going,’ Micky murmured, and added a grunt to the end.

  ‘Yip yip,’ Ashley called, putting as much love into it as she possibly could. Come on, Dexter, she thought.

  He turned his head. Yip yip yip.

  It was very soft, but it was definitely a call. Micky followed him with the bottle and squeezed another few drops of milk onto the outside of his mouth. For what felt like ages, nothing happened. Then Dexter opened his mouth and Micky slid the teat in.

  Ashley felt Dexter’s muscles moving under her fingers. There was no milk dribbling out of his mouth. He was suckling at last.

  ‘Keep talking to him,’ Micky said.

  Ashley kept up a soft stream of sound, murmurs, grunts and the occasional ‘yip’ while Dexter finished off the bottle of milk. When he was done, Micky put the teddy in front of him. This time Dexter clasped it with both arms.

  Micky smiled at her and stood up. ‘I’m going back to bed, Ash. Why don’t you stay here with him for a while? He’ll move off you when he’s ready. You can have another snooze on the beanbag if you feel like it.’

  Ashley nodded. She wasn’t planning on falling asleep now. After Micky had closed the door behind her, Ashley looked down at Dexter. He looked back at her, his brown eyes wide and alert. She couldn’t believe how different he looked already.

  ‘Feeling better?’ she asked.

  He blinked as if replying to her. She scratched his back again and he narrowed his eyes and leaned closer in a way that clearly showed pleasure. He shifted under her fingers so that she was scratching a new spot and she couldn’t help smiling. It looked like Dexter had decided to stick around.

  The world isn’t empty after all.

  His belly is full and the warmth of it spreads through his whole body, from his stomach to the ends of his claws. It’s like life flowing back into him.

  The creature talks to him and she’s not so terrifying. When she made noises, the milk came. Her lap is the wrong shape and too big, but it is cosy anyway. He burrows into her warmth and he feels her touch. It’s unfamiliar, but it comforts him, and for a while he closes his eyes and lets it seep through him. He remembers the way his mother warmed him when it was cold.

  Then he remembers the gum leaves, up above his head. He wonders what they taste like. He lifts his head and scents the air. Yes, they’re still there.

  He clambers off the creature, who doesn’t stir, and bounds across the floor. He reaches the tree and halts. He remembers that his mother always leapt into trees from the ground, catching the bark with her front claws and then bounding upwards.

  He tries it, leaping high with his front claws outstretched. They catch in the bark and he hangs for a moment, trying to remember what to do. Then he draws his hind legs up and uses them to push himself into a jump.

  It works. He does it again and again, and shortly he is at the fork of the tree. Two more bounds and he reaches the leaves. He settles himself into the fork next to them, swings out a claw, catches a handful and draws them to his mouth.

  They taste so good that he closes his eyes as he chews. The smell of them fills the air and it is sharp and strong and familiar. It’s not one of his home trees, but the smell is right.

  He reaches out a claw and swipes another spray of leaves.

  Ashley woke up with a stiff neck and the sun in her eyes. She was still on the beanbag, she realised, and it was horribly uncomfortable.

  ‘Morning,’ Micky said, standing above her.

  Ashley’s hand went at once to her lap, but there was only an empty blanket and a teddy bear there. Her eyes opened wide. ‘Dexter?’

  Micky laughed. ‘He’s doing fine. Stuffing his face with leaves at the top of the tree. Look!’

  Ashley looked in the direction Micky was pointing. She saw Dexter chewing happily. At the sound of their voices he was looking back down at them, and she could swear he had an inquiring look on his face, as if to say, ‘What?’

  She pushed herself up off the beanbag and scratched her head. She felt like she needed another half a night’s sleep at least to catch up.

  ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you!’ Micky said. ‘Come on. Breakfast. Then clean up Dexter’s room, change all the towels and blankets, put them on to wash, feed him if he’s hungry, and then out to collect leaf for him and Jemima. That’ll take us up to morning tea, I reckon.’

  Ashley groaned, but then smiled. Dexter was OK. Better than OK. He looked healthy and bright and full of life. That was really all she’d wanted.

  She gave him a good-morning ‘yip yip yip’ and thought she heard a little noise in reply, though it might have been the sound of him chewing.

  ‘I’ve made us some pancake batter,’ Micky said. ‘We’re going to need a big breakfast.’

  Ashley followed her out to the kitchen, stretching her arms. Then she stopped. Her phone was lying in the middle of the kitchen bench.

  ‘I decided two things during the night,’ Micky said. ‘Firstly, you’ve earned your stripes in the last few days, and it’s time I stopped calling you “kid”. Secondly, that means you can decide how you use your phone while you’re here. So there it is.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ashley said, picking it up.

  ‘Oh, and I stuck it on the charger last night, so it’s full of juice. Do you like your pancakes thick or thin?’

  ‘Thick,’ Ashley said. As the smell of the sizzling batter filled the kitchen, she wondered what to do with the phone. Did she really want to open Emma’s twelve messages?

  Probably not. But she did have to know the meaning of the picture of Bella and Puppy. Perhaps it was just a snap that Emma had taken at the breeder’s place when they collected Bella.

  She turned the phone on, drumming her fingers impatiently while it powered up and found the network. As soon as it was ready, she flicked through to the messages. She skipped the photo that she’d seen the previous night and went straight to the second message.

  parents totally on board with plan. Puppy is with us!

  And then:

  keep it secret! keep it safe!

  ‘What day is it?’ Ashley asked Micky.

  ‘Monday,’ Micky answered, and flipped the first pancake expertly. ‘And the sun’s out.’

  The next messages were all photos. Puppy and Bella on Emma’s bed. Puppy and Bella in the garden with Emma. Puppy and Bella asleep in a basket.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Micky asked.

  Ashley felt a bit sick, in fact. She wondered what Micky would think of the whole situation. ‘I had this idea that my friend could pick up my puppy at the same time she picked up hers. She would keep them both until my dad gets a job.’

  Micky slid the pancake onto a plate and pushed it over towards Ashley. ‘But your folks are in the dark, right?’

  ‘How did you know?’ Ashley asked.

  Micky grinned. ‘Let’s just say there’s a bit of a theme here, Ash. You get an idea in your head and nothing is going to get in the
way of it. Even if it means lying.’

  ‘But it all worked out well with Dexter!’ Ashley protested. ‘He probably would have died if I hadn’t done that.’

  Micky poured in the batter for the next pancake. ‘You might be right. But it means you forced me into being a joey carer again, because you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Sounds like you’ve done the same thing with your mum and dad, forcing them to let you have the puppy you want. How do you think they’re going to feel?’

  Suddenly Ashley didn’t feel so hungry. She sat in front of her plate and watched Micky flip the second pancake.

  It was no good; she had to read the rest of the messages. She picked up the phone again. Five more pictures. The last message said:

  we want to call him Billie until you pick a name. OK?

  Micky slid the pancake onto her own plate and sat opposite her. ‘Eat up, Ash. You’ve still got a while to make some decisions. Sometimes these things work themselves out. And if not — well, the problem will still be waiting for you when you get home.’

  Chapter 23

  The branch cracked and dropped as Ashley sawed through the last part of it. She picked up the fallen piece, stacked it on the neat pile with the rest of the logs and straightened up. She’d been working on it all week, but the many small branches of the swamp mahogany that had fallen beside the house and smashed her bedroom window were all cut up now and she was much better at using a handsaw than she had been. Micky had chainsawed the bigger trunks into sections and together they’d stacked all the wood into a neat pile. It would be next year’s firewood, apparently.

  Ashley faintly heard the phone ringing inside the house, and then heard Micky answer it. She put down the saw and sat on the grass for a rest, pulling down her hat to keep the sun off.

  The past seven days she’d done the hardest physical work of her life, but together Ashley and Micky had finally cleared all the storm debris from the garden. They’d cut back broken branches, raked up fallen leaves, used stakes and ties to try to repair plants that had fallen over or been damaged, and generally tidied up.