Chasing the Sun with Henry
Gary Brockwell
Copyright © 2017 Gary Brockwell
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
For Betty, who knows we all deserve our second chance.
Contents
Chapter 1 A Local Beach
Chapter 2 Chinese Burns
Chapter 3 Summer Fete Bouncer
Chapter 4 Sugar Rush
Chapter 5 A Book of Perfect Brilliance
Chapter 6 Chasing the Sun with Henry
Chapter 7 Pub Quiz Playboy
Chapter 8 Clive
Chapter 9 Are You Ready for Your Close-Up?
Chapter 10 When the Wind Blows
Chapter 11 Lost in Translation
Chapter 12 Formation Flying
Chapter 13 First Dates and Goodbyes
Chapter 14 The Twenty-Second Rule
Chapter 15 In the Kitchen at Parties
Chapter 16 Everything Changes
Chapter 17 The Queen Departs
Chapter 18 Home Truths in a True Home
Chapter 19 After the Storm
Chapter 20 Eebiss
Chapter 21 Toward the Land of Cranes and Buffaloes
Chapter 1
A Local Beach
Before I even turned the key in the front-door lock, I knew the words that were going to greet me from within.
‘Make sure that dog’s feet are clean, I’ve just washed the floor,’ she boomed, as I pushed the door open and Henry rushed in.
These are the words she always utters, each Saturday on our return from our early-morning forays onto the beach. And I always reply the same.
‘Sally, why wash the floor before we return?’
At this point, she always sighs deeply and mutters under her breath, while Henry stands patiently, panting, tongue protruding, waiting for one of us to replenish his drinking bowl with water.
But not today – today was different. Today, I simply smiled and said brightly, ‘I am sorry’ as I bent down, picked up the bowl, filled it with water and returned it to the floor in front of Henry. I gave him an affectionate pat on his flank, the action of which dislodged sand and introduced that ‘wet-dog smell’ into the room.
Henry moved forward, his large ears hiding the bowl, and began his lapping and slobbering at the fresh water, his tail keeping a steady rhythm along with his slurps.
‘Well, just think next time,’ she said, waiting for Henry to finish, so she could commence mopping up the water displaced around his bowl.
With his thirst quenched, Henry wandered to his basket in the corner of the room, a trail of water droplets from his jowls marking his way. He turned and took up a position on his cushion to entice a deep sleep unto him.
‘Don’t forget, Jenny is coming tonight,’ she stated.
This statement is also repeated weekly and normally results in my heart sinking and a sarcastic response muttered over my lips.
But not today.
‘Of course, how is she?’
Sally stopped mopping the floor and looked up, tilting her head to one side at my reply.
‘Are you feeling all right?’
‘Certainly, just asking how your friend is,’ I answered.
‘How do you think she is? She is lonely.’
‘She has got the dogs.’
‘That’s right, make fun of my friend.’
‘I wasn’t, Sally!’ I responded, with palms showing.
I really meant what I said. Today I felt no malice toward Jennifer Rees. I sincerely believed this benevolence of calm would remain with me even in her formidable presence later that evening. When, whilst eating cake after cake, biscuit after biscuit, she is accustomed to bemoaning my entire gender and complaining that she is never destined to be happy. And all the while Sally nods in agreement, confirming Jennifer’s victim status while offering more biscuits and more cakes, which are greedily received, through her sobs and wails.
The climax to this ritual occurs during Match of the Day, when I am forced to increase the volume on the TV to enjoy the post-match analysis, and to compensate for Jennifer’s sugar-induced outbursts. The look Sally throws to me indicates that she is unwilling to compete against commentary on why the league leaders should never play with a lone striker, and is enough to make me turn off the TV. With a heavy sigh, I always retire from the room. Henry shows his male solidarity and accompanies me. My parting scowl is never delivered back in the direction of the lounge until I am hidden safely in the hallway. I always view the remainder of the programme, glumly, on a portable TV in the kitchen from a wooden breakfast-bar stool, with the noise of Henry’s snores emanating from his basket.
But perhaps this evening, I will watch TV in the kitchen all night, give them the opportunity to really talk. Today, after our walk on the beach, I feel happy.
Despite what Sally thinks, I am correct about Jennifer’s dogs being company for her. She has three; all rescue dogs, which is commendable. They deserve a second chance to be happy, content and loved. I don’t agree with them sleeping on her bed, but guess as they are all small terriers, they wouldn’t take up that much room. I do fully understand the companionship she draws from them sharing her home, though.
Perhaps, if she walked them, exercised more, she could break the circle of unhappiness which keeps her weight a constant problem for her. And perhaps, at the same time, she could meet someone too.
That’s what happened to me today on the beach. Our beach, Henry’s and mine, our normally deserted beach.
At the time of the morning we are there, we own every last grain of sand, every pebble and weathered piece of driftwood that we see. To reach our beach we have to pass through towering sand dunes that have stood proudly for centuries, and marram grass covers their faces with a coarse, unkempt stubble. The dunes are so impregnable that you hear the crashing of the surf long before the shoreline comes into view.
Our entire kingdom, on account of the flora and fauna, is deemed an area of special scientific interest. In Henry’s world, it is but an area of special smells of interest, all of which are examined thoroughly, before he cocks a back leg where his nose had just been and leaves his own seal of approval. Watching him running back and forth, sniffing, urinating and sniffing some more, it seems he never tires of this place, and neither do I.
As we pass between the last dunes before the shore, the view that makes this, in my eyes, a special place comes into focus for the first time – the mountains, the
ir huge bulk hidden until now; their enormity a total surprise when they suddenly appear without warning. Rising straight out of the sea and piercing the sky, they force the cloud cover to sag below their conical summits. But now, after years of exposure to this, my initial pleasant shock has matured into a feeling of wonder at how much these gentle giants have witnessed over countless millennia.
Such conundrums do not concern Henry. He merely gets lost in the pleasure of the new smells that overload his senses, blown on the wind to him from the shore.
Henry saw them first; or rather he sensed them first. His keen nose involuntarily moved his entire face from the shore to his left. Then his excited bark drew my attention and announced their arrival into our perfect morning ritual.
With a single backward glance at me, he was off, pounding the sand hard, anxious to meet the onward-rushing dog whose owner watched from an equal distance to me.
They greeted with wagging tails and sniffed each other’s noses and faces for some time, causing me to smile. After this initial, cordial introduction, I willed Henry, as I got closer, not to embarrass himself or me, but then he did it. He couldn’t help himself. In one swift movement he positioned himself to the rear of his new acquaintance and sniffed and licked her anus intently. His forwardness resulted in a growl and a flash of teeth from the recipient and a barking command from me for him to come back. Which in fairness to him, he did immediately, scampering over the sand, knowing by my tone of voice he was in trouble, but equally not understanding why.
As I attempted to hook the leash onto his collar, he stood, his tail between his legs, his sad eyes staring up at me.
‘Why did you do that?’ I said gently, melting in the face of his submission.
He noted my change of tone and acknowledged my forgiveness with a double lick to the back of my hand. The action of which instantly made me recoil and drop his lead, as I remembered where his face had been moments before.
‘You might want to wash your hand!’ the voice laughed in front of me.
I look up and saw her, she gave a warm smile, revealing perfect teeth. Her hair blonde, tied into a ponytail, her face fresh, bereft of any make-up. Her body formless, dressed in a blue fleece, jeans and wellies.
‘I am sorry about that,’ I muttered, embarrassment sweeping over me. ‘He is normally well behaved,’ I added, knowing I was lying, as my mind recalled Henry’s multiple misdemeanours.
I stood awkwardly, hoping the situation was not going to deteriorate further.
‘Don’t be sorry – Phoebe has forgiven him.’ She gestured with her hand at the two dogs, now playing chase across the sands. ‘Actually, she probably liked it, but didn’t want him to know! Think of it as a kind of lady-dog prerogative!’
‘Perhaps!’ I laughed. ‘She is a beautiful dog – pure Lab?’ I continued.
She nodded. ‘A gift from my husband, he seemed to misunderstand my need for companionship,’ she stated, without a hint of irony.
‘Phoebe is a –lovely name,’ I said.
We stood watching the dogs as they bounded into the breaking waves together. No small talk, no discussion about the weather, just watching the dogs play, momentarily connecting with their world of no worries or concerns.
‘Well, I am heading back now, been out a while. Which way are you heading?’ she said eventually.
I didn’t reply.
‘Actually, we could walk with you,’ I suddenly blurted out, ‘if that’s okay?’ I added quickly, ‘In fact, to be honest, it would be good for Henry; he doesn’t normally get on with other dogs and he really is enjoying Phoebe’s company.’
‘I thought you said he was normally well behaved?’ she injected.
‘Well actually, this is why we come here early. We had just got here, to have the place to ourselves, to make it easy for Henry. I was surprised and slightly uncomfortable to see someone else here at this hour.’
‘Oh, I thought this was a public beach; we won’t encroach again,’ she stated, and started to walk away from me.
‘No, no, I didn’t mean anything like that,’ I responded anxiously.
She stopped and turned to face me, a smile forming across her lips.
I realised she was teasing me again, and found her playfulness caused my breath to quicken.
We walked over the sands together – the dunes to our left, the shore to our right and the mountains watching our progress from behind us.
‘I am actually glad he has bonded with Phoebe, I’d like him to do normal doggy stuff.’
She didn’t reply.
‘My neighbour told me about this place,’ she suddenly said. ‘But she didn’t mention how the mountains just appear before you; it’s amazing!’
I smiled to myself, remembering my first encounter, but in my case, I had no one to share the experience with.
‘Yep, we like to keep them to ourselves – local mountains, for local people!’ I responded.
She looked at me, saw my smile and returned her own.
‘Okay, I am an outsider – moved two weeks ago, still finding my way around. You locals might get blasé about them but to me they are amazing.’
It felt good to be equally playful with her.
‘Perhaps Henry and I could show you and Phoebe around,’ I continued, feeling confidence rushing through me.
She stopped and looked at me.
‘And what would my husband and your wife think of that?’ she asked with a straight face.
‘Just being welcoming to a new member of the community,’ I replied with a smile. ‘And anyway, who said I was married?’
She laughed, but I was not sure if this was in response to my statement or my question.
‘Anyway, I am not a “new member of the community” – I live miles away. My neighbour said it was worth the drive, and it truly is,’ she said, spinning around greedily, taking in the whole scene.
We continued in silence for some minutes, the wind fresh on our faces and our footsteps in unison across the firm sands. The dogs continued their own walk.
‘What about Henry? He’s a collie-and-spaniel cross, isn’t he?’ she enquired.
‘Yep, a right mixture! He’s a rescue dog; dumped in the middle of town as a pup by his previous “owners”. I use this term loosely. They were seen calmly opening the tailgate of their car, leading him out and tying him to a lamp post before driving away.’
‘That’s so awful.’
I nodded.
‘He ended up in the dog pound and was going to be put down.’
‘He was lucky that you were there at the time, to save him.’
Instinctively I threw a wounded look in her direction as the reason for me being at the pound that day caught me. The same as it always does when I allow myself to remember the circumstances of Henry coming into my life.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked with a half-smile.
‘Yes, sure,’ I replied, regaining my composure. ‘He actually chose me,’ I continued. ‘All sealed with a look over his shoulder and a lick to the back of my hand, through the bars of his cage.’
‘Don’t forget to wash it!’ she reminded me.
I chuckled as I remembered her first words to me.
We stopped at the only small break in the dunes, at this end of the beach, the gap was just wide enough to allow a narrow duckboard path to rise and dip beyond our view. She called for Phoebe, who returned on her command, closely followed by Henry.
‘That was a really wonderful thing to do, to let Henry into your heart. I can see he loves you,’ she stated, tickling his ears. ‘Are you going to carry on walking?’ she asked, hooking the leash onto Phoebe’s collar. ‘My car is through that way – I think!’ She laughed, pointing toward the path between the dunes.
I took it that her words were not intended to form an invi
tation for me to escort her back to her car.
‘No, I think I will head back now. He has had more than enough exercise today – I don’t think he can believe his luck. Besides, the rest of the world is now rising; he really should be off the beach!’
‘Think about obedience classes. He is a smart dog, and if he were trained he could do that “doggy stuff”, as you say.’
I was pleased to have this advice to take away; it showed she had listened to me and didn’t see Henry as a hopeless case.
We watched in silence as both the dogs recovered from the exertion, forcing huge quantities of air into their lungs, and periodically licked their lips in that satisfied way only happy dogs do.
‘Oh, by the way, I am Eddie, Eddie Dungiven. I would shake your hand but…’ I trailed off, laughing.
She giggled, exposing her perfect teeth again through her smile.
‘Cerys Sindon. Nice to meet you, Eddie. Maybe I will see you again on “your” beach!’ she teased.
‘You are welcome any time, we’re always here, every Saturday,’ I responded.
As I watched, she turned and headed toward the dunes, but stopped abruptly and looked back at me.
‘You are a good man, Eddie Dungiven, a good man,’ she said, smiling.
‘Thank you!’ I replied.
And with that, she retreated from my view.
Our walk back along the beach captured the mountains in our view, but for once, I did not see them. Instead, I replayed the words uttered to me by a beautiful, gregarious, fresh-faced woman who I had only just met, but who refused to vacate my thoughts. You are a good man, Eddie Dungiven.
Chapter 2
Chinese Burns
Later, I sat on a kitchen bar stool, the Saturday paper and supplements spread out before me on the work surface. As intended by the art editor of the article I was reading, my eyes were drawn to the matching white-linen-trousered, bare-footed couple, entwined lovingly on a wooden floor. Their backs rested against a clean-lined leather sofa while natural light flooded the scene from behind them through a floor-to-ceiling, gable-shaped window. I stared at this alien world and realised I would need to substantially increase my income to emulate Pippa and Max’s ‘dream self-build’ in the New Forest. The only thing I could see from the photograph that we all had in common was a dog.
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