by Roddy Doyle
He turned back to the boys. He held up the wet straw.
“Take – out.”
He held up the new straw.
“Put – in.”
He put the knife back in his belt.
“Jesus, lads,” said Sandra when they walked into the room, an hour later. “Where are you going with that smell?”
“We were helping the man,” said Tom.
“What man? Don’t come in. Take your boots off first.”
Sandra watched her boys take their boots off. She could tell they were frozen. They could hardly bend their legs.
“What man was this?”
“He’s in charge of the dogs.”
“What’s his name?”
“Don’t know,” said Tom. “He didn’t tell us.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“He isn’t that kind of a man,” said Johnny.
And Tom nodded.
“What work were you doing?” said Sandra.
“Putting straw in the kennels and stuff,” said Tom. “Can we come in now?”
“I suppose so,” said Sandra. “But stinky-poo, lads.”
Johnny didn’t like that word. It was from when he was a little kid. But he came in and got up on the bed beside Sandra.
“What are the dogs like?”
“Brilliant.”
“Brilliant.”
“Big day tomorrow, so?”
“Yeah.’”
They sat on the bed and told her all about the dogs, and the kennels, and the man, and the snowmobiles. But there was one thing they didn’t tell her. Tom had bought a knife.
The Airport
The plane was delayed. Half an hour. EI 156. That was the name and number, and it was late.
She sat.
She’d waited all her life. Most of her life.
It was still dark outside. There weren’t many people waiting. There was no one she knew or she’d ever seen before.
She sat where she could see the screens that showed the arrival times.
She took the photograph from her bag again. She put it back. She looked at the waiting people. It was getting busier.
She looked at the screen. She looked at it the same time a new word appeared: LANDED.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was very dark and very quiet. The excitement was the thing that told the boys it was morning. They woke up together, both pushed up by it.
“Is she still asleep?”
“No, she isn’t,” said their mother. “She’s starving.”
They climbed down out of their huge bunk bed and got in under their mother’s duvet.
“That was the best night’s sleep I ever had in my life,” she said.
“So what?” said Johnny.
She tickled him out of the bed, and Tom followed him on to the floor. They got dressed quickly.
“Don’t forget to put on your thermals,” said Sandra.
“Ah, yes,” said Tom. “Our toasty thermals.”
“Our underground knickers,” said Johnny.
They were dressed and ready to go.
“Can we go without you?” said Tom.
She always took ages to get ready, even when she was in a hurry.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
It was very quiet out in the corridor. They walked and skidded on down to the foyer place. They could smell food they thought they’d like, and then they were at the dining room. It was full of quiet people, and they both noticed it at the same time – no kids. At all. There were no children. Just Johnny and Tom.
Some people looked over at them. Some smiled. Some didn’t.
“All grown-ups,” said Tom.
“I’m hungry,” said Johnny.
It was one of those places where you served yourself. There was a counter with cooked stuff – eggs, sausages, toast – and a table with cereal and fruit and things of yoghurt.
Johnny went to the table. There was a huge glass bowl full of muesli.
“Is that all?”
But then he saw the little boxes. Cornflakes, Rice Krispies, and one he didn’t know but was covered in chocolate. He looked out to the foyer – no sign of their mother.
“Quick.”
They grabbed a box of the chocolate cereal each, and a bowl and spoon. There was no empty table. They had to sit beside a man and a woman who looked way too old to be messing around with dogs and snow.
“Hello,” said the man.
He smiled. There was a reindeer on the woman’s jumper.
“Hello,” said Tom.
“English?” said the man.
“No,” said Tom.
“Irish,” said Johnny.
“Ah,” said the man.
He said something to the woman. She nodded. The man pointed at himself and then at the woman.
“Belgium.”
“Brussels,” said Tom.
“No,” said the man.
Tom looked at Johnny.
“Brussels is in Belgium,” he said. “It’s the capital city of it.”
“He’s not from Brussels,” said Johnny.
“I never said he was,” said Tom. “I only told him Brussels is in Belgium.”
“D’you not think he knows that already?”
“Shut up.”
“Muppet.”
“Thick.”
“Muppet.”
The man smiled. The boys opened the cereal boxes and dumped the chocolate stuff into their bowls.
“Coo-il. They’re shaped like dogs.”
“They’re not.”
“They are. Look.”
“That’s not a dog.”
“It is. That’s his tail, look.”
“Shut up and just eat it.”
By the time their mother got there, Johnny and Tom had eaten the cereal, and they’d thrown the evidence, the empty boxes, into the bin. They’d filled their plates with cooked stuff, and they were just starting to eat it.
“Looks good,” she said.
Johnny’s mouth was full of sausage that didn’t taste as he’d expected, and he didn’t know if he liked it or not. His mother was staring at his mouth. He swallowed the meat.
“Is that chocolate I see on your lips?” she said.
“No,” said Johnny.
Tom quickly wiped his mouth. The no-chocolate rule was stupid. It made no sense. She let them eat everything else. She was looking at his mouth now. He could feel himself going red.
Then a man came in, right behind their mother.
“Hello,” he shouted. “People!”
He was dressed in black. He had a black fleece, and big, black padded trousers. His hair was white, and he had a beard with a point on it, done in little braids, like the back of a girl’s hair. And a red-andblack striped cap with the bits for the ears tied up. He was young, for a man, and he looked nice.
“Good morning, people,” he said. “Everybody speaks English, yeah?”
Tom and Johnny looked around. Some of the adults nodded, and two of them said “Yes” out loud. Three of them looked down at their tables.
“Cool,” said the man. “So. My name is Aki. Spells A-K-I, I guess. Finnish name, yeah? Aki. I am your GUIDE.”
“Ah,” said the man who wasn’t from Brussels.
Other people nodded.
“And we will go now to get the suits and boots, and then we will meet the dogs.”
“We met them already,” said Tom.
“And good,” said Aki. “You are Thomas or John?”
“Tom,” said Tom
.
“Awesome,” said Aki. “And you are John.”
“Yeah,” said Johnny.
“Also awesome,” said Aki. “And so.”
He turned. They followed.
Sandra grabbed some toast and a sausage, and they all followed Aki out of the hotel. It was cold.
“Yum,” said Sandra. “The sausage is nice.”
“The meat of the deer is in the sausage,” said the man from Belgium.
“Oh, Jesus,” said Sandra. “Poor Bambi.”
It was still dark. It was lovely, a silvery grey colour. She slid on ice, but didn’t fall. She’d forgotten her gloves. Her hands were already hurting, only a few seconds after coming outside. She pushed them into her pockets, but that made walking on the ice more difficult. So, she took them out again. She could balance better now. They weren’t going far, just across the yard and down a little icy hill. To a big, red-painted shed. The light from the open door cut a triangle in front of the shed.
She looked at her watch. It was nearly half-nine. She’d have been at work by now. She looked at the boys. They were like two rabbits in front of her, bobbing along; she could see the excitement in their bodies. They were keeping up with Aki, chatting away, probably driving him mad with questions.
She wondered how Frank was getting on, and Gráinne. She was glad she was here, just for a while. Just herself and the boys. Away from the complications. Fresh air and deer meat – things were nice and simple here. She was sure they were fine, Frank and Gráinne. And the mother, the ex-wife – Rosemary. What about her?
It was sudden, a shock – she slid, and fell backwards. But her head landed on the man from Belgium’s boots. She was OK. Hands helped her up. She was OK, a bit embarrassed.
“You are fine?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m grand. I’m fine. Thanks.”
Someone behind her slipped, and she felt less embarrassed and hot. She heard laughter. Foreign voices. She’d like this, the adventure. She was fine. She walked on.
A few minutes later, they all stood in the yard and looked huge. They were dressed in big red suits that made them all look a bit like astronauts. They had scarves and gloves, either red ones made from the same stuff as the suits, or caps and gloves of their own. There was lots of laughing and back slapping. Aki gave them time to take photographs of one another.
“Stand still a minute, lads,” said Sandra.
But they didn’t. Running properly wasn’t easy because the suits were so fat and stiff. But the boys were able to run slowly, and they ran straight into each other – and bounced. They were padded, and it didn’t hurt, not when they whacked into each other, not even when they landed on the hard snow. They made the noise –
“Ouch, ouch!”
“Agon-eee!”
But they were fine. They got up to do it again, but then they heard the dogs, and that was more important.
And Aki thought so too.
“And SO,” he said. “We go.”
The big red people turned and followed Aki. Tom and Johnny knew the way, and they rushed and skidded ahead of him. They blew the steam that came from their mouths straight into each other’s faces.
“Killer steam! Die, small boy!”
They were at the dogs again, in among the kennels and the smell. The dogs were excited, and none of them were standing on the kennel roofs. They knew they were going out; Johnny and Tom could tell.
“So, these are the husky dogs, I guess,” said Aki. “And, hey, I think they like you.”
He was talking to Johnny and Tom, and they were delighted. They looked at their mother. She was smiling at them.
“So,” said Aki. “People.”
He waited for the last of the adults to arrive. The man who wasn’t from Brussels had stood on poo and was trying to rub it off on the snow. And that was stupid because the snow was full of it already.
“So,” said Aki, again. “These are your huskies. For four days, I guess.”
Johnny decided; Aki was good at his job. He was scaring them a bit, but he was making them much more excited, the way he shouted some words and whispered others.
“Look at the eyes,” said Aki. “AWESOME.”
And the adults who hadn’t noticed, noticed now.
“Oh, look, lads,” said their mother. “They’re gorgeous.”
“Very beautiful,” said the not-from-Brussels man. “You agree?” he asked Johnny.
Johnny nodded. He didn’t want to be rude. But he’d seen the eyes already, and he just wanted to go.
“Too beautiful, I think,” said the woman from Belgium.
“I know what you mean,” said their mother. “You could never trust a fella with eyes like those.”
What was she on about now? What would a fella be doing with a dog’s eyes?
But Aki finished the eyetime.
“So,” he said. “How will these dogs bring us on the safari?”
No one answered. None of the adults wanted to be wrong, even though the answer was easy.
“On the backs?”
Some of the adults laughed.
“No,” said Tom.
“With saddles?”
“I said, no,” said Tom.
“Right,” said Aki. “I am being a dumb-ass, yeah?”
“Yeah,” said Tom.
“Tom,” said his mother.
“Sorry,” said Tom.
“For sure,” said Aki. “So. How?”
He was looking at Tom.
“Sleigh,” said Johnny.
“Me,” said Tom. “Sledge.”
“Right and right,” said Aki. “Sleigh and sledge.”
“There is a difference?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Or sled,” said Aki. “Three words for one thing. CHOOSE.”
He pointed at Tom, then Johnny.
“Sled!” they said, together.
“Good choice,” said Aki. “Cool. How many dogs?”
“What do you mean?” said Johnny.
“To pull the sleigh and sledge and sled. Each. How many dogs?”
“Four?”
“Right,” said Aki. “So.”
Tom and Johnny saw the panic on the adult faces; their brains were catching up. Four mad dogs to master and control. Four dogs to mush-mush. Four dogs to point in the right direction and hope that they would go that way.
“So,” said Aki. “This way.”
He walked across to the nearest sled. They all followed him. No one was laughing now; no one was talking. They stopped when he stopped.
“Come,” he said.
They gathered around the sled. There were no dogs attached to it yet. It was a very simple thing, made mostly from wood that looked like very thick, shiny string. There were two runners, parallel, at the bottom, with a thin plate made of metal on each runner, to stand on. There was a bar across the back of the sled, just over the runners.
Aki stood on the runners.
“See?”
He put a foot down on the bar, and they heard it scrape the ice. Aki got off the sled and picked it up. Beneath the bar, they saw a jagged line of steel, like serious teeth or a bear trap.
“The brake,” he said.
“Cool,” said Johnny.
“Right,” said Aki.
He dropped the sled and stood on it again. He put his foot on the bar, and the steel teeth bit into the ice.
“Doesn’t work so well in ice, I guess,” he said. “But in snow, put your foot down. The sleigh or sled will stop. I promise this, no problems.”
He picked up the sled with one hand.
“Not heavy.”
He put it down again.
“And the reins?” said the man from Belgium.
“What say?” said Aki.
The man pretended he was riding a horse. He even click-clicked with his mouth.
“No reins,” said Aki.
“How will the dogs know?” said the man.
“Know what?”
“To go,” said the man.
“They will know,” said Aki.
He looked at all of them.
“And you MUST also know,” he said.
He held the handles.
“Hands here, feet here. No problem.”
Johnny looked at all the adult faces. “But,” the faces said. “Who, me?” they said. “I wish I was in Spain.”
But no one spoke. It was up to Johnny, and Tom.
“How do we make them go?” said Johnny.
“You do not make them go. Tom?”
“Johnny.”
“Right. You and – Tom?”
“Yeah.”
“You are very young, I guess,” said Aki. “You will go with Kalle.”
“Who’s that?” said Johnny.
The Belgian man tapped Johnny on the shoulder.
“This is him, I think.”
And they saw him.
No one spoke.
Kalle was the man Johnny and Tom had met the day before. He was still very tall and very wide, and he still had the knife on his belt.
“So, good morning, Kalle,” said Aki.
Kalle didn’t answer, but he nodded at Aki. He walked past all the adults, to the dogs.
He still wasn’t wearing a hat.
“So, this is Kalle,” said Aki. “Kalle is the dog man.”
“He owns them?”
“Right.”
He pointed at Kalle. Kalle was collecting strips of leather, pulling the strips, making sure they wouldn’t snap. Tom had seen the leather strips the day before. They were the things that held the huskies to the sleds.