The Invisible Dog
Page 3
‘We don’t tell you everything,’ her father said.
‘Two hundred pounds!’ Janie said. ‘Nearly enough to buy half a harlequin Great Dane puppy!’
‘Has it really got to be a harlequin?’ her mother said.
‘Yes. She said so.’
‘Who said so?’
‘Mrs Garrow.’
‘What on earth has Mrs Garrow got to do with it?’
‘She saw it.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ her father said.
After tea Janie took the invisible dog for a walk up the lane. As she passed Mrs Garrow’s cottage, the old lady looked over the garden wall and said, ‘Hullo, Janie. Better luck next time.’
I don’t know what you’re talking about, Janie thought.
‘Ask your mum and dad,’ Mrs Garrow said, just as though she’d read Janie’s mind.
‘Ask them what?’
‘Where they went this morning.’
‘Where did you go this morning?’ Janie asked when she got home again.
‘How d’you know we went anywhere?’ her father said.
‘I just do.’
There was a pause.
‘Tell her,’ her mother said.
At that moment the phone rang. It was the Great Dane breeder.
‘I’ve just this minute had a thought,’ she said. ‘Since you just missed that puppy this morning and are set on having a harlequin, I’ve had an idea, if you’re interested. I have a nine-month-old harlequin dog that might do you. He’s a good typical specimen, with a lovely nature, but he has a fault that spoils him for the show ring.’
‘What sort of fault?’ Janie’s mother said.
‘He’s got a kink in his tail – a little sort of twist near the end of it. He was born like that, but I’ve kept him on because he’s such a lovable character. Would you like to see him?’
They arrived once more at the kennels, this time with Janie. The breeder looked at her as she stood, lead in hand, collar dangling. ‘That’s a biggish collar,’ she said. ‘Have you had a Dane before?’
‘We had one called Rupert,’ Janie said, ‘when I was very small, but he was fawn, not a harlequin like this one.’
‘Which one?’ said the breeder.
‘Janie has an invisible dog,’ her father said. ‘He goes everywhere with her. He’s never any trouble.’
‘Sit, Henry!’ Janie said.
‘Did you say Henry?’ said the breeder. ‘How extraordinary! Hang on half a tick, I’ll fetch the dog.’
Of course they all fell in love with him at first sight. Already he seemed enormous, with feet like soup plates. He did not squirm or wriggle as a puppy would have done, but stood steady in black-and-white dignity as befitted someone who was almost grown-up.
‘His nose is partly black and partly pink!’ Janie’s father said as the young dog sniffed at them.
‘That’s all right,’ the breeder said. ‘A harlequin’s allowed a butterfly nose.’
‘And he’s got one brown eye and one blue!’ said Janie’s mother, as he smiled at them.
‘A wall eye. That’s all right too. He’s a good typical specimen, with a lovely nature, but, like I said, he has a kink in his tail – that little sort of twist near the end of it.’
As if he understood, the dog slowly wagged his tail.
‘I like that,’ Janie said. ‘I want to buy him, please.’
‘You want to?’ the breeder said, smiling. ‘Have you got enough money of your own, d’you think?’
‘I’ve got two hundred pounds,’ Janie said.
‘I won’t charge you that much,’ the breeder said. ‘As I told you, he’s no good for show, with that fault. But I don’t think I can give him to you – he’s cost me a lot to rear. On the other hand, I feel sure that you’ll give him a really good home. So shall we say a hundred pounds?’
Janie put out a hand.
‘It’s a deal,’ she said. ‘What’s he called?’
‘You aren’t going to believe it,’ the breeder said. ‘In fact I must confess that there’s something very strange about all this. But he’s called Henry.’
Janie nodded. It was as though she had expected this news.
Carefully she unbuckled the collar from the invisible dog and fastened it again around the neck of his successor.
‘Good boy, Henry,’ she said.
EIGHT
The Twist
About a week later Janie came out of the front gate and turned up the lane, the lead in her right hand, her dog walking steadily at heel with his long strides, his great head not far below her shoulder. From the buckle of his collar hung a new round metal disc that said, above the telephone number, HENRY.
They walked up the village until they came to Mrs Garrow’s wall, with the red postbox set into it, and Janie opened the garden gate and went in. Inside the porch of the cottage were Mrs Garrow’s wellies and, leaning in the corner, the long broomstick that she used for sweeping up leaves. Her cat sat on the mat.
‘My old black cat doesn’t like dogs,’ Mrs Garrow had said, but to Janie’s surprise it stood up and began to rub itself against one of Henry’s long legs, purring loudly. Henry looked embarrassed.
Janie knocked on the front door, and after a moment old Mrs Garrow opened it, smiling her crinkly smile.
‘Hullo,’ Janie said. ‘This is Henry.’
‘I know that, dear,’ said Mrs Garrow. ‘You showed him to me before, lots of times, don’t you remember?’
She patted the dog.
‘Who’s a good boy then?’ she said. ‘He’s looking ever so well, Janie. You must be proud of him.’
‘I am,’ Janie said. ‘D’you see, he’s got a butterfly nose and a wall eye? There’s only one thing meant to be wrong with him though I don’t think it matters a bit, and that’s the twist in his tail.’
‘It was all in the tea-leaves,’ Mrs Garrow said.
‘I don’t understand,’ Janie said. ‘How can you know these things?’
Mrs Garrow let out her usual volley of quacks.
‘Aha, Janie my dear!’ she said. ‘That’s the twist in the tale.’
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First published by Viking 1995
Published by Puffin Books 1997
Published with new illustrations 2003
This edition published 2017
Text copyright © Fox Busters Ltd, 1995
Illustrations copyright © Ann Kronheimer, 2003
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
Cover illustration by Stephanie Laberis
ISBN: 978-0-141-38907-3
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