Noah didn’t know, either. He had been expecting her to be angry with him, but she hadn’t been. Just like Mrs Gentleshaw. In an odd sort of way Noah wished somebody would be angry with him. You knew where you were with grown-ups’ anger. But all this bewilderment, this mournful shaking of heads – how was he supposed to respond to that?
At teatime he trudged downstairs to the kitchen, where Mum was ladling baked beans on to a plate of beefburger and chips. His favourite. The smell was wonderful, homely and comforting. Despite his tiredness, Noah’s mouth watered and his stomach gave a little gurgle.
“Here’s your tea.”
Noah sat down and Mum set the plate in front of him. She laid a hand on his head, briefly, and for some reason Noah felt tears well up behind his eyes. There was a big lump in his throat. He swallowed it, along with his mouthful of burger, and dashed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Noah,” Mum said, looking hard at him. “What’s the matter?”
Noah crashed his knife and fork down on the plate. “Why did you call me Noah?” he demanded.
Mum looked taken aback. “What d’you mean?”
“My name!” Noah almost shouted. Why was she being so thick? “Why did you call me Noah? It’s a stupid name!”
“No it isn’t.” Mum spoke calmly. “It’s a very old and dignified name. We named you Noah after your great-great-great-uncle, Noah Trevelyan. He was a preacher from Cornwall. He was a very respected and talented man.”
Noah was unimpressed. “Bet he was rubbish at football,” he muttered.
Mum stood up and picked up Noah’s empty plate. “There’s trifle for pudding, if you want any. Oh yes, and Mrs Harrison rang.”
“Who?” Noah looked blank.
“Mrs Harrison. Your friend Bertie’s mum.”
“Who’s Bertie? I don’t know anyone called Bertie.” All of a sudden, light dawned. Bertie. Bertie Harrison. Albert Percival Harrison. “Oh – you mean Pigface!” A suspicious thought crossed his mind. “Why did she ring? Was it to complain?”
“To complain? What would she be complaining about? No, she was ringing to ask you over for tea.”
Whatever Noah might have been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. Tea at the pig farm, sang a nasty little voice in his head.
“On Saturday,” Mum said, and opened the fridge. “She thought it would be nice for you boys to get together. She said Bertie’s always talking about you. Noah this, Noah that. Sounds like you’ve got a fan.”
“Mum,” Noah said crossly, “It’s Pigface.”
“Well, I think you should go.”
“But I don’t want to. Mum,” he beseeched, “it’s Pigface. Pigface!”
Mum looked at him closely, the bowl of trifle in her hand. “She said something about not being invited to a party. Basil Moroney’s birthday party?” She put the trifle on the table. “She said to take your wellies, and you can have a good look round the farm. Have a ride on the tractor, that kind of thing. To make up for missing the party.”
Basil’s party. He’s invited the whole class. Except you and Pigface. Noah could hear Emily’s smug voice now, see Rosie’s spiteful face.
“Anyway,” Mum went on. “It’s too late. I told her you’d love to go. That’s OK, isn’t it? Now eat your pudding, before it gets warm.”
Noah was dreading going to school the next day. He kept thinking Pigface was going to blurt out the fact that Noah was going to tea with him on Saturday. How embarrassing would that be, if people got to hear that Noah hadn’t just been befriended by Pigface, but was actually going to the dreaded pig farm! He shuddered at the possibility. But rather to his surprise Pigface said nothing about the invitation, just gave a secret smile whenever their eyes happened to meet.
Mum drove Noah over to the farm shortly after lunch on Saturday. If he had thought about it at all, he had imagined the Harrisons living in some kind of filthy rotting hovel at the end of a pitted muddy track, surrounded by a field or two of rootling pigs, stinking and scabby. He hadn’t expected this long tree-lined drive, or the large elegant farmhouse of pale honey-coloured stone.
Pigface appeared round a corner as the car crunched over the gravel by the front door. He was dressed in jeans and wellies, his hair ruffled and his plump cheeks pink from being outside. “Hi!” he said. “You came! Cool!”
Mum opened the door for Noah, leaning across him. “I’ll come and pick you up later. Ring when you’re ready. Enjoy yourself.” Then she whispered in his ear, for him alone to hear. “And be good.”
Noah felt cross – what did she have to say that for? She hadn’t said that kind of thing to him since he was a little kid.
The annoyance disappeared, though, as Pigface bore him off for a grand tour.
Noah was astonished. The farm was enormous: acres and acres of emerald-green fields, criss-crossed with ancient hedgerows and small streams, and dotted everywhere with the pale shapes of the pigs. Odd wooden arcs were placed here and there as shelter for them. There was a large Dutch barn and some low stone outbuildings, and a grain silo for keeping feed.
The farm wasn’t just for pigs, though. There were some cows too, black-and-white Friesians standing about munching contentedly, and in the distance Noah could see two fields of sheep. Pigface spoke knowledgeably about the animals’ feeding regimes and breeding seasons and overwintering as they bumped along in a hay-filled trailer towed by the promised tractor.
“Thanks, Sid!” Pigface said to the tractor-driver as they jumped out into the yard. Two black-and-white dogs shot out from the doorway of one of the outbuildings, barking angrily. Noah shrank back. He liked animals on the whole, but he was never totally happy around strange dogs. Especially when they were making as much noise as these two.
Pigface shouted at them and the barking stopped, although the larger of the two continued to bare its teeth at Noah, snarling aggressively.
“That’s enough, Kim,” Pigface told it sternly. “It’s OK,” he told Noah. “They won’t hurt you. They’re just protecting their farm.”
“Their farm?” Noah noticed the long chains tethering the dogs to the outside of the building, and started to feel a bit safer. “Does your dad know his dogs think it’s their farm?”
Pigface laughed. A lot. It was as if Noah had made the funniest joke of all time. It was much nicer when people laughed at things you said on purpose, Noah decided, rather than things you did by accident.
“You lads having fun?” It was Sid. He’d parked the tractor across the other side of the yard.
“Yes thanks,” Noah answered politely.
“That’s good.” Sid turned to Pigface. “You still going to help me change that fan belt on the Land-Rover?”
“I don’t know.” Pigface looked doubtful. “Not as Noah’s come over.”
Sid nodded. “You want to hang out with your mate. Fair enough. But I’ll be seeing to it in about half an hour, if you still want to lend a hand.”
“You don’t really know how to change a fan belt, do you?” Noah asked Pigface, watching Sid as he strolled across the yard, whistling.
“No,” Pigface admitted. “He was going to show me. But I do know how to clean plugs and points,” he added.
“Yeah?” Noah felt a touch of admiration, despite himself.
“Yeah. And I can start a flat battery with jump-leads.”
“Cool!” Noah was impressed. He wouldn’t even recognize what a jump-lead was, let alone know how to use one.
“And Sid lets me drive the tractor sometimes.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, he does. Only for a minute or two, though, up in the field. Where it’s safe. Only don’t tell my dad – he’d go ballistic if he knew,” Pigface said cheerfully. “Come and see the piglets. You’ll like them.”
He pushed open a low wooden door and they went in. Noah wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was the best bit so far: little pink snuffling things, lined up in neat sausage-like rows against their mothers’ sides, contentedly sucklin
g. They were not dirty and smelly at all, but small and clean and perfect.
“Oh!” Noah breathed, leaning over one of the pens. “They’re so cute!”
“I saw all those being born. Two weeks ago.”
“Did you?” Noah was awestruck. “You actually saw them – coming out? What did they look like?”
Pigface shrugged. “Like piglets being born.” He stood up. “Look, I think I’ll just go and have a word with Sid. Shan’t be long.”
Noah stayed with the piglets. They had finished feeding now and were all fast asleep in an untidy pink pile, twitching slightly amongst the straw. One of the sows lumbered to her feet suddenly and began to grunt noisily at him, and he spoke soothingly to her until she lay down again. He looked at his watch. Pigface had been gone for ages. He decided to go and wait outside.
It had been dark in the pigs’ shed, and as he emerged into the yard he was dazzled by the sunshine. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes, and it was as if all hell had been let loose.
It wasn’t all hell, though. It was the two sheepdogs. Afterwards, when it was all over, it was the suddenness of the dreadful barking that Noah remembered; the barking, the snarling and the baring of sharp terrible teeth, and the dreadful realization that the two dogs were no longer tethered to their chains. He truly thought that they were going to leap for his throat and tear it out and kill him, right there on the dirty puddled concrete of the farmyard.
Chapter 8
“Down, Kim! Lie down, Jess!”
The voice came from nowhere, startling Noah just as much as the dogs had. To his immense surprise and relief, the dogs slunk instantly to their bellies. The barking stopped, but they continued to growl threateningly, their top lips curled up to expose the razor-sharp fangs.
“That’s enough now! Be quiet!”
It was Pigface, hurrying across the yard towards Noah, looking anxious. Sid was a few paces behind, and when the dogs saw him they got to their feet and greeted him with wagging tails and lolling tongues. It was hard to recognize them as the savage monsters that had almost frightened Noah to death just moments earlier.
“Are you OK? Sid let them off the chains to take them up to the sheep, but they snuck back here. I was just coming round the corner after them – I saw you standing outside the shed and putting your arm up. I think you startled them. I know they make a lot of noise but they wouldn’t have hurt you, honestly. They were just protecting the farm.”
Noah looked at them, frisking round Sid like puppies, and swallowed. He was still trembling, his knees weak and wobbly, as if he’d just stepped off a rollercoaster.
“I’m sorry.” Pigface touched Noah on the arm shyly. “You must have been scared.”
No I wasn’t. The words were in Noah’s mouth, ready to say. He looked up into Pigface’s worried pale-blue eyes and he had the oddest feeling. It was as if it was the first time he had ever seen him – properly looked at him.
“Yes,” said Noah instead. “I was.”
Sid came over, the two dogs still playing around his heels. “You all right, lad?” He looked concerned. “It was my fault, I should’ve been keeping a proper eye on them. They know the sows are in there, see, and their babies. They must have just seen you outside, and, well . . .”
“I know,” Noah said. “They were protecting them. Pig – er, Harry explained.”
“Did he, now.” Sid looked at Pigface. “Well, he’s right. And he knew what to do. They’ll always lie down on command – they’re properly trained, see. Matter of fact, they’d most probably have lain down if you’d shouted at them too. They’re good dogs really. But you weren’t to know that. It must have been a shock for you.”
“It was a bit. But I’m OK now.” Feeling braver, Noah put out a tentative hand and stroked a black head, shining silkily in the sunlight. The dog put out a pink tongue and licked his wrist, once, as if to show there were no hard feelings.
After Sid had gone, taking Kim and Jess with him, Pigface apologized again.
“You don’t need to keep saying sorry,” Noah told him. “It wasn’t your fault. Sid said so. Anyway, you saved me, didn’t you?”
“Did I?”
“’Course you did. You called them off me. You shouted at them to lie down.”
“I s’pose, but . . .” Pigface shrugged. “I wanted you to have a nice time today. I wanted us to have a nice time.”
“I have had a nice time.”
“Honest?” Pigface’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Honest. Even though the Killer Dogs from Hell nearly got me.”
Pigface smiled. “Yeah, right. So d’you want to come back sometime, then?”
“Don’t see why not,” Noah said. “If you want me to. But on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you tell Kim and Jess first.”
Pigface smiled again. “OK. But I’ve got a condition too.”
“What condition?” Noah was surprised. Pigface accepted things; he didn’t make demands.
“That you call me Harry. It’s what you called me just now, to Sid. It’s what everybody round here calls me – well, everybody except Mum. She calls me Bertie.”
And you lot, who call me Pigface. Noah could see the words floating above his head, as clearly as a thought-bubble in a comic. It was quite a shock. He had been called Pigface for so long, and everyone had just assumed he didn’t mind. Then another thought popped suddenly into Noah’s mind. Noah’s Ark, he thought. You minded that, didn’t you?
The two boys regarded each other solemnly, and Pigface stuck out his hand. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Noah replied, and shook it.
They went and found Sid, and he showed them both how to change the fan belt and then let Noah top up the oil in the engine and check the level with the dipstick.
Then it was time for tea, back in the farmhouse. It was burgers and chips.
Noah’s eyes lit up when he saw it. “Yum,” he said. “My favourite.”
“Is it, lovey?” Mrs Harrison was kind, with a sunny smiling face. “That was a good guess then, wasn’t it? So what d’you think of our farm? Haven’t been bored, I hope.”
Noah speared a chip. “No,” he said truthfully. He thought he wouldn’t mention the incident with the dogs. “I haven’t been a bit bored. I think it’s a great farm.”
“Bertie always seems to enjoy himself here.” She looked at her son fondly. “He hasn’t got his own computer, or a telly in his bedroom. But he always says he’s quite happy just pottering around.”
“I am,” he protested. “I’m going to take over here when I’m grown up. I’m going to be a farmer too, like Dad.”
“Well,” said Noah. “I think he’s lucky, living here. Really lucky.”
And he was surprised to discover that he meant every word.
Chapter 9
“It wasn’t the whole class at Basil’s party, you know,” Jack told Noah on Monday morning, back at school. “It was only me and Rosie and Emily, and a couple of others. Six altogether. Seven, including Bas. It wasn’t even that good. His mum made us play stupid games, like we were babies.”
“Oh,” said Noah. He really couldn’t have cared less about Basil’s party. The realization made him feel good inside.
“So what did you do, then?” Jack asked. “Over the weekend?”
Noah considered lying. But what was the point? He’d enjoyed himself at the farm. In fact, he’d almost certainly had a better time than Jack had at Basil’s party. “I went over to Harry’s on Saturday,” he said.
Jack stared at him. “Where?”
“To Harry’s,” Noah repeated. “You know – Pigface. To the farm. To look around, and stuff.”
“Oh,” said Jack, looking rather stunned.
Noah had thought he’d be embarrassed admitting it, but somewhat to his surprise he wasn’t – not at all. Instead he felt quite good about it, as if he was being rather brave and daring.
“Yes,” he said, getting into his stride.
“In fact, I had a really wicked time.”
After lunch Danny Gibbs was organizing another kick-about in the playground. “Jack, you go over there – and Basil, over there!” he commanded, and as usual everyone hurried to obey him.
Noah went over to him. May as well ask, he thought. Can’t lose anything by asking. “Can I play?” he asked humbly.
Danny Gibbs turned and looked down at him. He was only a couple of inches taller than Noah, but he managed to make it seem much more. “No,” he said. “Push off,” and turned back to his self-appointed role of director of operations.
Noah stood his ground bravely. “Why not?” he demanded. It was only a playground kick-about, after all: it wasn’t exactly England v. Argentina.
Danny Gibbs swung round again, astonished. “’Cos I say so,” he declared. “And I’m the captain of the Under-Elevens, and what I say goes. Understand?”
Noah’s heart was beating fast, but he was determined not to show Danny he was scared. “Not really,” he said, frowning in a puzzled way. “Why can’t I play? I’m good at football – you know I am.”
“You were,” said Danny Gibbs shortly. “You broke your leg. Now you’re rubbish. End of story.”
“No it isn’t,” Noah said calmly. “It isn’t the end of the story, I mean. I broke it weeks ago. It’s better now – look.” And he ran on the spot. “See? Good as new.”
“What’s the hold-up?” It was Basil Moroney, coming over to see why the game hadn’t started. “What’s going on, Gibbsy?”
“Oh, it’s Noah’s Ark,” said Danny Gibbs, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Wants to play. Reckons he’s up to it now.”
“Well, he looks OK to me,” said Basil, rather to Noah’s surprise. “He was fine in PE the other day. Go on, Gibbsy – let him have a go.”
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