A Secret in Time

by H. Y. Hanna

  “It would have been nice to win the trophy cup,” said Honey wistfully, “but you know, a part of me is relieved that I won’t have to go into the ring again.” She gave a rueful laugh. “Being a show dog is hard work! I thought—”

  She broke off as the lights in the arena suddenly flickered, then went out. Dogs around her began to murmur nervously. At one end of the arena, the big double doors rattled suddenly, as if hit by a strong gust of wind.

  And then eerie howling began.

  Honey felt the hairs rise on her neck. The mournful sound rose, higher and higher, echoing around the arena. Somewhere a human cried out in alarm, followed by another. Dogs began barking. Some broke free from their leashes and began running blindly around, crashing into crates and grooming tables, toppling bottles, brushes, and other tools from the ledges. People began shouting and running too, tripping over dogs and cursing.

  The lights came back on. In the middle of the commotion, Honey suddenly caught a glimpse of a pale, grey shape ... floating, almost transparent. It was the Phantom Hound! He stood on the other side of the show ring and those amber eyes were fixed on her. He turned and drifted a few steps away, then looked back at her.

  This time, Honey didn’t hesitate. She yanked her lead out of the Breeder’s hands and darted across the arena. She ignored the sounds of her name being called and bounded after the ghostly figure, intent on keeping the Phantom Hound in sight. He was moving across the arena now, fading in and out of the crowds. Honey followed, her heart racing. He led her past the show rings, past the wall with the portraits of the winners, to the other end of the arena. By the time Honey arrived, panting and drooling, the Phantom Hound was gone. But she saw what he had been leading her to. A door in the wall.

  A door marked “STOREROOM”.

  CHAPTER 13

  Honey looked around. She was back near the crate area—although she could see no one around. Everybody must have been over by the show rings. Farther along the wall, she could see another door with the green “EXIT” sign above it. She remembered that door. It was the side door that she had gone through yesterday afternoon, to the Viking ship. But this door—she looked back at it—she had never really noticed before.

  Honey lowered her head and sniffed cautiously along the bottom edge of the door. As her nose nudged the wood, the door creaked and shifted slightly, showing a gap alongside the doorframe.

  It was unlocked.

  Honey hesitated, then took a deep breath and pushed the door with her nose. It creaked again, then swung slightly open.

  Should I go in?

  She thought of Olivia and her Breeder. They were probably searching for her now and might come down to this end of the arena any minute. She had to grab this chance while she could. Honey squeezed her way in through the slight opening and paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior. She wrinkled her nose and sneezed as a bitter, charred smell hit her. The smell was old, mingling with the scents of musty cardboard and mouldy furniture, and also the sharp, chemical odour of fresh paint.

  She blinked and looked around. The storeroom was much bigger than she had expected—more like a garage than a storage cupboard. There was a skylight in the ceiling, its dusty surface letting in just enough light to make out shapes in the room. There were boxes everywhere, stacked haphazardly in tall piles, together with an assortment of junk: broken chairs and other bits of old furniture, a piece of folded tarpaulin, gardening tools, ripped plastic sacks with the word “FERTILISER” on the side, some rotting planks of wood, and an old metal cabinet. Honey knew the type—it had sliding drawers with lots of papers inside. Olivia had one in her office, although it wasn’t as rusty as this one.

  Many of the things looked too undamaged to be from ten years ago. They must have been things that got dumped in the room when the Showgrounds re-opened and people were clearing out the arena. In fact, the front half of the room had fresh yellow paint on the walls and there were still some cans of paint left by the door. It looked like they had started re-painting the storeroom and then stopped abruptly halfway along the wall. Maybe they had run out of time before the show began.

  Beyond the jumble, in the far corner of the room, Honey could see the old, faded walls with ugly, black scorch marks. Tiffany’s voice echoed in her head. “It started back there, in the storeroom”. It was here, she thought. This was where the fire had been.

  Slowly, she began exploring the room, picking her way through the stacks of boxes, sniffing everything cautiously. The Phantom Hound must have brought her here for a reason ... but what? What did he want to show her?

  She found herself in the back corner, where the black soot on the walls and the little piles of rubble and ash on the floor showed that this was probably where the fire had begun. Scattered around her were charred pieces of wood, scraps of blackened paper, a half-melted plastic bottle ... and wedged into the corner, a stuffed toy with its face burnt off. Honey shivered. There was a horrible feeling of loss here. She turned to go.

  Then she saw it.

  Several scraps of paper had been pulled out from the pile of rubble and spread out on the floor. She tilted her head and peered at them. Each piece of paper had letters on them—like fragments of words that had been torn up and mixed together.

  They made no sense at all. But they were obviously important. She was sure this was what the Phantom Hound had wanted to show her. Honey leaned closer and tilted her head, staring at the letters. Maybe there was a message hidden in them—she just had to unscramble them to see what the words said ...

  A sound outside the door made her jerk her head up. She could hear shuffling. Someone was out there. Honey scooped up the paper fragments in her mouth and hurried across the room, stumbling over a broken chair leg. But when she poked her head cautiously out of the door, she saw nobody there.

  Did I imagine it? she wondered. No, she had definitely heard something. She hovered in the doorway, uncertain what to do. Already, she could see people and dogs returning to the crate area. Things were calming down again after the panic from the howling. Olivia could come looking for her any second. She needed to hide the paper fragments somewhere safe—somewhere she could retrieve them from later. But where? Honey didn’t dare leave them in the storeroom—what if the door was locked next time? Then her eyes fell on the other door along the arena wall—the side door that led outside.

  I’ll bury them outside, Honey decided. Then she could either slip out the side door later or even go around the outside of the arena and dig them up.

  She was about to head for the side door when something white caught her eye. It was on the door jamb of the storeroom doorway. Honey looked closer. The wood had once been smooth and shiny, but over the years, patches had been worn away so that parts of the jamb were rough and cracked, with tiny wood splinters jutting out. And something had snagged on a few of those splinters. Something that looked like white woolly curls.

  Honey leaned in and sniffed cautiously. It was dog hair, she realised. And even before she recognised the scent, she knew who the white curls belonged to: Colette.

  Honey was lying by Anja’s crate, waiting, when the humans and her friends returned. She had her front paws crossed and an expression of innocence on her face.

  “Oh, here she is!” exclaimed the Breeder. “She must have got lost in the chaos. Good girl, Honey, coming back here to wait for us.”

  The dogs weren’t so easily fooled. Ruffster eyed Honey suspiciously as he came up to join her. “What’ve you been up to, mate?”

  Biscuit froze, his nose twitching. “You’ve been to the storeroom. I can smell the same scent that I tracked there.”

  Honey admitted that he was right. “I think that scent was the smell of soot, Biscuit. That’s where the fire started ten years ago and there’s still bits of burnt stuff in there.” She quickly told them what she had found in the storeroom, although she didn’t mention seeing Colette’s fur snagged on the door frame. She glanced uneasily at Ruffster. He seemed back to his old,
cheerful self and she was afraid of ruining his good mood if she mentioned her suspicions about Colette again.

  “I wonder what those letters say?” said Suka excitedly. “They sound like the word puzzles that my Boy does. He’s really good at them. Maybe we can get him to help us.”

  Honey tilted her head doubtfully. “Do you think it’s a good idea to involve the humans? Besides, how would you be able to explain it to him? He might just think they’re bits of rubbish and throw them away!”

  “My Boy understands everything I say to him,” Suka said loftily. “He’s very well trained—for a human. If you start them young, you can achieve a lot.”

  “Hey, I didn’t get my Guy young,” said Ruffster. “Rescue mutts like me—we get our humans older, you know, when they’ve got baggage already. But you can still teach ’em a lot. My only problem now is trainin’ him to share the couch. But I’m gettin’ there. Just got to be consistent.”

  Biscuit sighed gloomily. “Wish I could train my Missus to feed me more often.”

  “Well, I still don’t think we should involve the humans,” said Honey firmly. “And anyway, we have to figure out a way to go back and dig the scraps up. I was thinking maybe tonight after dinner—”

  They all jumped as a scream split the air.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Oh my God! Help! Help!”

  There was a stampede of feet around them as people rushed towards the screaming. The Vet hurried past, pushing his way through the crowd, saying, “Excuse me ... sorry ... I need to get through ...”

  Honey stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to see what was happening. A crowd of people and dogs had formed around one of the benches nearby. A woman was talking to the Vet, wringing her hands hysterically. Then the crowd parted slightly and Honey’s heart lurched as she saw who was in the middle. It was the Boxer—the Boxer who had just won her group in the show ring. He would have gone on to compete for “Best in Show” ... but not anymore. His face was covered in a horrible red rash and half of his lips and one eye were grotesquely swollen.

  “Great Dog Star, what happened to him?” cried Anja, straining to see from her crate.

  Honey watched as the Vet shook his head while he bent down to examine the Boxer. He gently touched the dog’s face, then reached down and fingered the blanket that the Boxer had been lying on. He raised his hands, peered closely at his fingers and frowned, then said something to the hysterical woman. She gasped.

  “Allergic reaction? But how did the fertiliser get here?” Her voice carried clearly across the arena and several people gave each other horrified looks. They shook their heads. It was clear from their expressions that they knew the Boxer’s chances of winning “Best in Show” were over. Honey felt her heart shrink as she remembered how happy the Boxer had looked earlier.

  The Afghan Lady hurried over to the Boxer’s owner, holding something out in her hands. “I’ve got some Benadryl. It’s great for allergies—it’ll help with the itching and swelling.” Honey saw the Vet nod as the Boxer’s owner smiled her tearful thanks.

  “Howling Hyenas, it looks like the Phantom Hound has struck again, eh?” said Suka. “First the creepy howling and now the attack on a winning dog.”

  “That’s three dogs now,” said Ruffster. “That Chihuahua who broke her leg, Anja gettin’ poisoned, and now this Boxer.”

  “That’s not counting what nearly happened to Honey with that Viking ship,” said Suka.

  Biscuit looked nervously around. “Do you think the Phantom Hound is still somewhere nearby?”

  Honey said nothing, but she was still not convinced that these attacks were caused by the Phantom Hound. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt that the Phantom Hound meant no harm. He was trying to tell her something—something to do with what had happened at the show ten years ago—but he wasn’t trying to harm the other dogs. Or her. She felt sure of that.

  Which meant that there had to be another dog—a real dog—responsible for these attacks on the show dogs. The problem was, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Honey suddenly realised that while most of the humans were still crowded around the Boxer and his owner, many of the other dogs were now gathering around them. Their hackles were up, their eyes were hostile, and they were all looking at Ruffster.

  “Is this your dirty work, mongrel?” demanded a Fox Terrier.

  “Me?” Ruffster stared in surprise. “What d’you mean, mate?”

  “We saw how you attacked Ferrari,” said a Chow Chow. “You have a thing against purebreds?”

  Ruffster shook his head. “No, I—”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s been behind all these attacks on show dogs!” cried a Bearded Collie. Several other dogs nodded, staring at Ruffster with narrowed eyes.

  Ruffster looked around indignantly. “Hey, that’s ridiculous, mate.”

  “He had nothing to do with those attacks,” said Honey.

  “Yeah, why would I want to hurt any o’ those dogs?” asked Ruffster.

  “Because ...because you’re jealous and mean,” whimpered a Shih Tzu. “You don’t like us purebreds getting all the attention. You want to get back at us.”

  Ruffster bristled, his own hackles going up. “That’s a stupid lie!”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” snarled the Fox Terrier, thrusting its nose into Ruffster’s face.

  “No one’s calling anyone anything,” said Suka hastily, stepping between them.

  “He’s been here since the first day,” said a Pointer, looking at Ruffster fearfully. “Skulking around the place with that human of his. I’m sure he was the one who made the Chihuahua break her leg! And then yesterday, I saw him hanging around here too when the Great Dane got poisoned—”

  “Ruffster didn’t poison me!” cried Anja from her crate, but no one was listening to her.

  “—and now he’s here, just when another terrible thing happens. Isn’t it all too much of a coincidence?”

  “Yes! It’s him! He’s the one behind all these attacks. You know mongrels can’t be trusted!” cried a Springer Spaniel, looking around at the others.

  “That’s right,” said a Dalmatian, nodding. “They have no pedigree, do they? No lines, no papers. We don’t know anything about them.”

  “Yeah! Can’t trust them!”

  “Mongrels!”

  “Dirty mutts!”

  “No kennel name or anything!”

  “Can’t even trace their dam and sire ...”

  “Mongrels are out to get us!”

  “STOP!” shouted Honey, stepping forwards. Her big, booming bark cut through the whines, squeals, and cries of the other dogs. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a mongrel—Ruffster isn’t responsible for these attacks!” She looked at Suka and Biscuit, then back at the other dogs pleadingly. “We’re purebreds and we trust him.”

  “Why should we listen to you?” demanded Dior the Afghan Hound, stepping out from the back of the crowd of dogs. “You’re just a pet dog wannabe. You’re not really one of us.”

  The other dogs around him nodded. There were cries of “Yeah! Yeah!” and more jostling and pushing as all the dogs surged closer, their lips curled back in snarls. Ruffster faced the crowd, his fur bristling, his own lips lifted to show his teeth. Then a voice rang out above the snarling and growling.

  “I trust him!”

  The crowd of dogs parted to reveal Colette the French Poodle. All eyes followed her as she walked slowly forwards and went to stand next to Ruffster. She looked around at the other dogs challengingly. “Oui, I trust him. And I come from a long line of show champions.”

  “Me too,” said Anja, standing up in her crate. “And I trust Ruffster completely.”

  The other dogs looked confused, glancing at each other, shuffling their paws. Dior narrowed his eyes, his jaw jutting out angrily. Then he growled and turned away. One by one, the other dogs started lowering their heads and turning away too. The crowd slowly dispersed.

  Ruffster relaxed and glanced at Colet
te shyly. “Er ... thanks for speakin’ up for me.”

  The French Poodle gave her pom-pom tail a little wag. “C’est rien. It is nothing.” She paused and hesitated, as if about to say something more, then with another little wag of her tail, she turned and trotted off.

  “Howling Hyenas,” said Suka, giving herself a good shake. “I thought we were heading for a serious dog fight just now.”

  “Me too,” said Honey. She looked worriedly at Ruffster. The mongrel mutt was still staring after Colette with his eyes glazed over, his mouth slightly open. He seemed to have forgotten all about what had just happened, but Honey could still see the crowd of angry eyes and snarling teeth. Colette’s word might not be enough to save Ruffster next time. Many of the other dogs already didn’t like a mongrel in their midst. Now that they were scared, they needed someone to blame. And Ruffster was the perfect target.

  Honey took a deep breath. They had to find out who was behind these attacks—and quickly—to keep Ruffster safe. Maybe the answer lay in the hidden message in those paper fragments, she thought hopefully.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Ready?”

  Anja nodded. “So you want me to go and sit in front of the caravan window—there.”

  “Yes, where the humans can see you,” said Suka. “And act like Honey. Make sure you drool a lot.”

  Anja ran her tongue around her mouth. “I’ll try.” She looked at Honey. “What makes you drool? Is there something special you think about?”

  “Mate, everythin’ makes Honey drool,” said Ruffster. “She drools in her sleep.”

  Honey ducked her head in embarrassment. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

  “Maybe you can just dip your mouth in the water bowl,” suggested Biscuit. “And let the water drip off your chin.”

  Honey looked doubtfully towards the caravan. “Are you sure this is going to work, Suka?”

  “Trust me,” said the Husky.

  “Relax, Honey,” said Ruffster. “She’s your dopey-gangsta, right?”