The Tide of Terror

by Stuart G. Yates

  I'm sure, thought Jenny. “Right then. When would you like me to come down? I could make it Wednesday afternoon. That's our half-day closing.”

  “Wednesday it is, after lunch if that's all right. Two o'clock?”

  “Yes. I'll see you then.”

  “Thank you so much. Bye for now.”

  And the phone went dead.

  Jenny pressed herself back in her chair and gently span it from left to right, thinking things through. This had all come as a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one thank goodness. She actually smiled at the prospect, telling all the children about the hedgehog, its habits, its uniqueness. All she had to do was try and cobble together a work sheet or two. That couldn't be that difficult, surely?

  Three hours later Jenny was beginning to realize just how difficult it was to 'cobble together' a work sheet. A collection of crumpled, abandoned sheets of paper lay in a haphazard pile at her feet. She was sitting at her desk, head propped up by one hand, while the other absently doodled on yet another page. The doorbell came as a welcome relief.

  Mark Burridge stood there, smiling. “Hi, I've come to see how that dog is.”

  Jenny waved him in. “He's fine. You can see him if you like. He's a sweetie.”

  “Yeah, I thought that when I found him. It's a wonder why anyone would dump him like that, he's so good-natured.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She led him through into the rear entrance of the kennels. The little dog jumped up, wagging its tail when it saw them both. Mark stooped down, putting his fingers through the cage to tickle to dog's muzzle. Meanwhile Jenny fished out the key and opened up the kennel. Immediately the dog was out, jumping up at Mark, licking him as if he were his long-lost master. Mark spluttered and coughed. “Easy boy!”

  “He certainly likes you. He probably senses that you helped him.”

  Mark struggled to his feet, still patting the dog across the back and sides. “You think they can do that?”

  “Of course they can – dogs have a whole range of emotions. You mustn't think of them as just poor, dumb animals you know. We've had a relationship with dogs for probably well over fifty thousand years. We're very close, and they've learned a lot from us.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do. Collective memory.”

  “Well, if you say so…” he squatted down again and ruffled up the dog's fur around its neck.

  “You're not convinced.”

  “Well, to be honest…I mean, I know we've been around one another for a long time, that we've bred dogs to do all sorts of jobs, but…to give them human feelings? I'm not so sure.”

  “I didn't say they had human feelings. I said they had emotions. Nothing to do with humans.”

  Mark cocked an eyebrow. “Well…all things considered…to be honest, I'm open to most things now. So, why not?”

  “How are you about birds acting bizarre? Usually placid dogs attacking their masters, parrots biting owners, hedgehogs ganging up on a gardener?”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. Let's take him out for a walk and I'll tell you all about it.”

  They wandered down to the beach not long after that. The Sun was beginning to set, casting glorious multi-coloured hues across the majestic sky. Jenny let the dog go, watching him bound down along the shoreline, barking at the waves as they crashed in towards him. She laughed when he jumped, the water drenching his paws. “His paw's much better now. He looks happy.”

  “So he should be. This is a wonderful place.”

  “Yes it is. You're not here for much longer?”

  “No. Business is done, so I'll be away in a couple of days. I think I might miss it, despite everything.”

  “You won't come back?”

  “Who knows? You should never say 'never'.”

  She laughed again, but this time at Mark. “Wasn't that a film?”

  “Yes, it was. But I think it was actually said by Sean Connery. He said he'd never play James Bond again after 'Diamonds Are forever'. Then he goes and plays him in…well, the name of the film is obvious.”

  “True sentiment though, isn't it. No one really knows what's round the next corner.”

  “Indeed.”

  They strolled along the sand, letting the gentle breeze play through their hair, the salt air refresh them, the sunlight fill their hearts with something more than just romance. It was pure, unrushed, perfection.

  Suddenly, from a long way off, another dog appeared. At first Jenny was concerned, but then she felt relief. When they came together, the dogs began to play, tumbling over one another, barking good-humouredly, like long-lost friends. They certainly seemed to recognise each other, if Jenny wasn't mistaken. And as the dogs played, the owner of the other dog came into view and then Jenny's heart really did freeze, because he was immediately recognisable.

  “Oh no,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What is it, Jenny?”

  “Him. The owner. It's Bernie Morrison.”

  Mark pulled in a breath. “Well, he won't be threatening you this time.”

  Together they began to strike out towards where the dogs were playing. The two animals ran towards them, tails wagging like mad, both of them with mouths open, lost in the moment of sheer exhilarating pleasure.

  Jenny took Morrison's dog, hugging him by the neck and the dog rewarded her with furious licks around her face, while Mark wrestled frantically with the other. As Jenny stood up, she noticed the dog had on a collar, with a large pendant. 'Rusty'. “Hello boy,” she said, scratching him behind an ear, “So you're Rusty are you?”

  As if in response, Morrison's voice cut through the playful atmosphere, breaking the spell of the moment instantly. “Bouncer! Bouncer, come here!”

  The gruff little man was panting like another dog as he came closer. His face was screwed up in a sort of gargoyle grimace.

  “I'll have my dog now, thank you very much.”

  Jenny shrugged, stepping back. She remained silent.

  “Mr Morrison isn't it?” asked Mark, levelling the man with a hard stare.

  “What of it?” He put the lead on his dog and yanked the animal close to his side sharply. The dog yelped. Jenny wanted to say something, but she thought better of it.

  “There's no need for that,” snapped Mark.

  “I'll ask you to mind your own damned business.”

  And with that he was gone, pulling the dog behind him. Mark had hold of the other, but it was obvious that the little dog wanted to run after Bouncer, play with him some more. “Not tonight, I'm afraid,” said Mark with feeling. Then he added, sarcastically, “Nice chap.”

  “I told you what he was like.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  “Funny though, isn't it.”

  “What is?”

  “Around his dog's neck, a collar with the name 'Rusty', when Morrison called it 'Bouncer'.”

  Mark pulled a face, “He's weird – perhaps he doesn't know, or care what he's doing.”

  But Jenny wasn't convinced. There really was something weird going on, and not all of it to do with horrible, nasty Mr Morrison.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Jenny brought Mr McGregor back from the airport, the surgery waiting room was packed. The vet stopped at the entrance, eyes agog. He cast a quizzical look at Jenny. “There's been some very strange things going on, Mr McGregor.”

  They worked throughout the morning, but the queue never seemed to get any smaller. There were cats that were doing cartwheels, dogs that were barking at the Moon, birds – of all descriptions – biting their owners, or flying against windows trying to break through. Even some lizards that had decided to somehow crawl through letterboxes to escape. In honesty, there was very little that either of them could do as most of the problems seemed to be psychological rather than physical. It was really a case of Mr McGregor offering support and re-assurance. People were disturbed by how the behaviour of their pets could change, becoming erratic and o
ut of character. Docile dogs snapping and snarling, rabbits doing summersaults, wild birds landing on the backs of pet cats… Some people demanded to know asked 'why', but all McGregor could do was smile and spread out his hands in total bafflement.

  Virtually an hour after their normal finishing time, Jenny finally managed to set down a cup of tea before the vet, then she too sat back and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “What a morning!”

  “I'm going to have to get the later flight, Jen. But not to worry, it'll give me time to have a look at that gannet. How's he doing?”

  “He seems much brighter.”

  Finishing his tea, McGregor went into the adjoining room and, with Jenny's help, they managed to get the big bird out of the pen and onto the operating table. Soon, the vet had expertly removed the bandaging and both of them smiled as the bird stretched out the wing and flexed it without any seeming discomfort.

  “Let's get that towel around him, then we'll take him down to the beach and release him.”

  Jenny quickly draped a towel over the bird's head to calm it down, then McGregor lifted him up and began to carry him out. As they passed the two cages that held the hedgehogs, both of the little animals looked up and snuffled loudly. Amazingly, as if in reply, the gannet gave a soft and gentle caw.

  They released the bird as close as possible to the place where Jenny had originally captured it. At first, with the towel removed, it stood there, checking its surroundings. It then lifted its head, as if gauging distances and directions, and took off with a powerful beat of its huge wings. Everything had healed wonderfully and McGregor and Jenny watched bedazzled as the great bird soared up into the blue, then swept back down at a sickening speed, before it looped back up. It was giving them the most wonderful display of precision flying that either had ever witnessed, and it truly did seem to be for their benefit alone. Finally, with a loud and seemingly delighted call, the bird banked off to the left and was gone, gliding out across the shimmering sea to whatever future lay before it.

  Both of them stood breathless for a few moments, lost in their respective thoughts. At last, McGregor clapped his hands together, “Well, that's that! You did a good job there, Jen. You've done us proud.”

  “I hope so. The School have invited me in do a talk with the children this afternoon. I hope that goes equally as well.”

  “It's all good publicity, Jen. Who knows, we might even get some donations. The money's been pouring in, thanks to that article. Perhaps you could do another one, about the School – a follow-up, perhaps.”

  “I think that might be difficult, Mr McGregor. The reporter who did the article…he's dead.”

  “Oh no, how awful. What was it, car crash?”

  She shook her head and told him some of the facts. McGregor listened in stunned silence then, with head held low, he went over to the van and clambered in. As Jenny got in beside him, the vet was muttering something to himself.

  “In all my years, Jen…I knew Mrs Charles was eccentric, that her death has posed a few problems for the animals…but this, this is just too awful. Are they connected in any way?”

  “I don't know. Odd though, isn't it. Him being in the shed.”

  “You don't think she could have done it.”

  “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Perhaps…perhaps he caught a whiff of something, went down to investigate why she had so many animals. She got abusive, lost control…she was a bit like that, you know.”

  Jenny was nodding. “Could be. He certainly liked to delve into things…he knew all about the gannet, Mr Morrison, everything. He could have picked up another story. It's feasible.”

  “That must be the answer, Jen. The police don't seem to be actively investigating it, do they?”

  “No. You're right, come to think of it.” She looked out of her window, gazing across the water, hoping to find another glimpse of the gannet. “I know she was strange…but to murder someone…and how could she do that? She was frail, elderly. He was a young, fit man.”

  “Sneak up behind him and…” he mimed cutting his throat with his finger, “Easy done, Jen. Now,” he glanced at his watch, “I'll make the four-thirty. Tortilla wraps with quorn chicken tonight. Yum, yum!”

  Jenny laughed, relieved that the mood was lighter. All that talk of murder had brought back some painful memories for her, memories that she would have preferred to remain buried. She kept thinking of poor Josh. His plans. His poor wife. Then she thought of the more pressing things that had to occupy her mind – finishing those worksheets for the children. Something told her they were going to take a long time to complete. But despite trying to turn her attention those things, there was still a niggling doubt playing around in her head. If Mrs Charles had murdered Josh Stewart, who had murdered her?

  She wasn't wrong in her mind about how much there was still left to do. By nine o'clock, she was continuing to battle over the wordings of the questions she was setting. By ten, she was worried. Then her mobile went. It was Mark Burridge, asking her how the day went. When she told him about how badly things were going with the preparations for the school visit, he offered to come over in the morning and help her out. He'd had lots of experience of doing such things for his council. She was delighted to accept his offer and she went to bed feeling a lot more relaxed.

  Throughout the next morning, she went about her business of making deliveries of dog food and bird feed. Everyone seemed bright and cheerful. The Sun was shining and the air smelled clean and fresh. It promised to be a beautiful day. When she pulled the van into the forecourt of the rescue-centre, Mark was already there. He raised his hand in welcome and she came up to him, smiling brightly.

  “Thanks for this, Mark. I haven't really got a clue what I'm doing.”

  “Anything I can do to help…You seem happier today.”

  “Yes, I am. I wasn't woken up in the night, the gannet has been released…and you've offered to get me out of a fix. Go and make yourself a cup of coffee or something; I've just got to make a few calls from the office. I won't be long.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were sitting opposite one another at Jenny's work desk. Mark reading through her worksheets, chewing at the end of a pencil thoughtfully as he did so. At last, he put down the paper and smiled. “Not bad. Could I…you know…make some changes?”

  “Mark, just do what you can.” She glanced at her watch. “I've got to be there in about an hour and a half. Tell you what, you finish it, and I'll make us something to eat.”

  “Can I use your computer? It'll look so much better – then I'll print off one copy and the school can do some more when you get there. They won't mind. Then, if you like, I could rustle up a PowerPoint for you. It won't take long, and I'll do it so all you have to do just click the mouse once and it'll run all by itself. Is that O.K.?”

  She smiled and ran a hand through her hair, breathless at his offer. “Thanks!”

  He shrugged. “It's nothing. Honestly.”

  “No, I really mean it. This is so kind of you - you're a life saver.”

  A shadow fell over his face for a moment and he glanced down, tapping the point of the pencil onto the desk. “I wish that were so, Jen.”

  She frowned, but didn't press the point. Mark obviously had his own demons to face.

  Leona and Tommy met her at the entrance to the school hall when she staggered in. Leona gleefully relieved her of the box she was carrying and Tommy skipped around her.

  “This is going to be great, Jen!” he shouted out. “We've been telling everyone about your work down at the centre – everyone is really excited to see the hedgehog. Is he better now?”

  “Almost, Tommy. But I'll tell everyone all about it when they come in.”

  Leona came back. “All ready, Jen.” There were a group of tables laid out near the far wall and she had placed the cage with the hedgehog in it on one. There was also a computer with overhead projector and screen all waiting. She'd phoned the school as soon as Mark had completed the present
ation on the computer, asking them for the required hardware to run it. Everything was set. She even had the worksheets, duly run off on the school photocopier. She actually felt quite professional.

  The presentation worked like a dream. Mark certainly knew his stuff. He'd found a mass of photographs on the Internet, and had even added some suitably uplifting music. Jenny stood there, like one of the children, her attention fully engaged by what she saw. Then, it was trying to marshal the children in such a way that they could all see the little hedgehog. Mr Richards had decided to put both the classes together. Fortunately, there were less than twenty pupils in each, so everyone could get a good look at the little blond creature.

  Jenny handed Mrs Strickland the wad of worksheets. “You could use these as a follow-up, if you like.”

  Mrs Strickland sniffed and gave them a cursory glance. She raised one eyebrow. “Did you do these?”

  “Er-yes,” she lied. “Is there anything…wrong?”

  “Not at all.” She slapped them under her arm, “They actually look quite good.”

  There was no praise in her voice. It was merely a statement, delivered in a neutral, flat tone. There was no way Mrs Strickland would ever want Jenny to feel good about anything.

  “Now then children,” she barked. All of the assembly came together in immediate, total silence. “Questions please. But keep them short.”

  Tommy's hand shot up almost straight away. Jenny smiled and pointed to him. “How long have you been a veterinary nurse, Jen?”

  “Just over six years, Tommy. I started out at―”

  “Next question! Samantha Highgrove.”

  Jenny blinked and shot Mrs Strickland a glance, which the teacher ignored.

  “Jenny. Do you think it's important to protect our environment?”

  “Of course it is,” snarled Mrs Strickland. Now it was her turn to look across at Jenny. “But only when it is prudent to do so. Next.”