A Secret in Time

by H. Y. Hanna

  “I think I know why,” she said gently.

  Graf turned to look at her and it was not horror that she saw in his brown eyes, but relief. Relief that somebody had discovered his guilty secret at last.

  “You cheated ten years ago, didn’t you?” said Honey. “One of your ears isn’t white—it’s a sort of dark grey colour, but your human dyed it white. I saw a picture of you with your real ear colour; your human was carrying it around with her.”

  Graf sighed and nodded slowly. “Yes. The breed standard for Pulis says that we have to be a solid colour. If our coats are parti-coloured—you know, with large patches of another colour—then we would be disqualified from the show ring. My human said I was perfect in every way—the only thing wrong with me was my left ear with its patch of grey fur. It was just slightly bigger than the two inches allowed, you know. My human ...” Graf faltered. “She was young and she really wanted to win. She said ... she said it was stupid to lose just because of some hairs being the wrong colour. So she said we could cover it up with a bit of white dye and nobody would ever know.” He hung his head.

  Honey glanced at the others, then looked back at Graf. “We found some paper scraps in the storeroom ... I think they were from the label of the bottle of white dye that your human used to dye your ear. There was an accident, wasn’t there? And the white dye, which is really flammable, caught fire. That’s what started that terrible fire ten years ago.”

  Graf hung his head even more. “We hid and did it in the storeroom before the show. After the show, my human rushed back there to get rid of the dye and stuff. But she was so scared that people would come in and see what we were doing. She was trying to do things faster and ... I don’t know what happened ... I think she must have spilled some of the dye.” He shuddered at the memory. “There was one of those smoky white sticks that humans like to put in their mouths, on the floor. Somebody must have been in the storeroom earlier and thrown it on the floor. It was just a little stub, but it was still burning. I don’t know what happened, but suddenly, there was smoke and flames everywhere and people screaming and dogs barking ... I just ran—and kept on running. When I finally looked around, I was in the field. I saw the hill and I came here.”

  Honey said eagerly, “That’s what the Phantom Hound was trying to tell me—and that’s why he led us here!”

  “Phantom Hound?” Graf looked up in puzzlement.

  “Haven’t you seen him? He’s supposed to keep coming out here,” Honey said. “I’ve seen him a few times ... he’s a grey, ghostly dog ... almost like a Weimaraner.”

  Graf stared. “That sounds like Oskar. He was a Weimaraner with the most beautiful pale, grey coat. They used to joke and call him ‘the grey ghost’.” He hung his head again. “Oskar got second place—‘Reserve Best in Show’—but he really should have been the champion. If I hadn’t cheated, he would have won. Instead, Oskar lost his life. I saw him when I was running from the fire. There was so much smoke everywhere ... he ... he didn’t make it.”

  “Do you think the Phantom Hound is really Oskar?” asked Suka. “My Boy has this book of ghost stories and he says ghosts sometimes hang around when something wrong has been done. They can’t rest until the wrong has been set right.”

  Honey nodded. She looked at Graf. “You need to go back.”

  Graf shook his head fearfully. “No.”

  “You have to,” said Honey. “You’re the only one who can set things right. Everybody should know the truth about what happened.”

  “I ... I can’t! Then everybody would know that I cheated! And that it was my fault that the fire started and Oskar died!” cried Graf, taking a step back.

  “Reckon the fire was an accident. And anyway, it wasn’t really you, mate, was it?” said Ruffster. “It’s really your human who was doing the cheatin’ so she should take the blame.”

  “Yes, but I kept quiet about it,” said Graf, hanging his head. “I could have at least told the other dogs, but I didn’t. Everybody thought I’d won because I was the best dog in the show, but it was all a lie. I won by cheating.”

  “You can still set things right,” urged Honey.

  Graf hesitated for a second, then sighed and shook his head. “No. It’s too late now.” He turned away and walked back into the cave.

  They sat and looked at each other uncertainly, unsure what to do next. The wind was picking up again, whistling as it blew around the boulders at the top of the hill. Finally, Suka stood up and shook herself. Glancing at the sky, she said, “Shouldn’t we be heading back? It’s starting to get dark. And it might rain again.” She looked back out across the fields to the Showgrounds in the distance. “I’ve got to get back to my Boy.”

  Ruffster nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want to be crossin’ that boggy field in the dark again.”

  Reluctantly, Honey agreed and they all stood up to go. Suka looked at the cave, but no dog came out to join them. She shrugged, then started down the hill with Ruffster and Biscuit at her heels. Honey hesitated, looking back towards the cave. She could see Graf still sitting there, his eyes wistful but scared. She started to turn away and follow her friends, then stopped and walked back to the mouth of the cave.

  “Graf, it’s not too late,” she said gently. “I know you’ve done something wrong and you’re scared of people finding out. But running away isn’t the answer. You can’t hide here, alone, forever. I know you want to come back, to see your human again.”

  The Puli looked away.

  Honey stepped closer. “Sometimes you have to face up to what you’ve done, to tell the truth—even if it might be scary. I think everyone will understand. And ... and if the Phantom Hound really is Oskar, then this is the best way you can make it up to him. By letting everybody know the truth and giving him the credit that he deserved.”

  She touched Graf’s nose with her own, then turned and started down the hill. She could feel his eyes on her back, watching her as she walked away.

  CHAPTER 23

  The journey back was even worse—with the fading light, they couldn’t see where they were going and twice they found themselves lost and walking in circles. They wasted precious time retracing their steps and starting out again, taking almost double the time to cross the same distance. It was a relief when they finally came to the fence surrounding the field. It was at a different place from where they had crossed under earlier, but it didn’t matter. They just wanted to get back into the field again. Suka and Ruffster set to work immediately, digging underneath the lowest bar, and soon they had widened enough of a gap for everybody to wriggle through easily.

  Back inside the field, they took a minute to get their bearings. Night had fallen long ago and darkness had closed in around them. With clouds covering the sky, there was no moon to light their way and they could barely see their own paws. The strong scent of fresh water told them that the river was to their left. So they set off in the opposite direction, testing the ground tentatively with their paws before placing their weight down on each step. It made the going dreadfully slow, but it was better than falling into a bog again.

  Finally, Biscuit paused with one paw raised, his nose twitching excitedly in the air. “I can smell it. The arena. And the cars and caravans. And the fairground. C’mon, this way!”

  The others followed eagerly as he broke into a trot. The big arena building loomed suddenly out of the darkness. They had arrived back at the spot where they had entered the field earlier—on the west side of the arena, next to the fairground—and they quickly crawled back under the fence. Now they would just have to walk around the front of the arena to get back to the east side where the caravans were parked.

  Honey was the last to crawl under the fence, out of the field, and she shook herself as she stood up, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her back. She turned to Ruffster with a wag of her tail. “We did it. We worked out what the Phantom Hound was trying to tell us!”

  “Yeah, but we still don’t know who’s attackin’ all the show
dogs, mate,” Ruffster pointed out. “Don’t reckon the stuff that’s happenin’ now is related to Graf and what happened ten years ago.”

  “You’re right,” said Honey, wrinkling her brow. “I thought the Phantom Hound was trying to help me work out who was behind all the attacks, but I was wrong. He was trying to tell me about Graf and what happened ten years ago. What’s happening now isn’t linked to the Phantom Hound at all. There must be another dog involved ... a real dog.”

  Ruffster stiffened. “Don’t tell me you still think that dog is Colette—”

  “I ... I don’t know.” Honey hesitated. “You know, I didn’t mention it before, but I saw some fertiliser in the storeroom.”

  “So?”

  “So that was what gave the Boxer that allergic reaction. And I know Colette was skulking around outside the storeroom ...”

  “What?” Ruffster growled. “Are you sayin’—”

  “Ruffster, I don’t want to think it’s her. But she does—”

  “Are you going to stand there discussing this all night?” Suka looked impatiently back at them from a few paces ahead. “We should get back to our caravans—the humans are going to be really worried about us. We can figure it out tomorrow.”

  Suka was right, thought Honey guiltily as she remembered her earlier worries about the humans. They were probably frantic.

  They hurried around the arena building. As they rounded the east corner and finally came upon the rows of parked cars and caravans, a spotlight suddenly came on, illuminating Ruffster in a yellow circle of light.

  “Chokin’ chicken bones!” Ruffster jumped, then froze, looking around wildly.

  But there was no sound of voices or footsteps or even other dogs. After a moment, Ruffster relaxed and carefully edged his way out of the pool of light.

  “It must be one of those guard lights,” said Biscuit.

  “Guard lights?”

  Biscuit nodded. “We’ve got them outside our house. They have these special eyes that see in the dark and when they see something move, they light up. It helps to guard the house because anybody who comes near will wake the lights up and be seen.” He looked up and pointed with his nose to a spotlight attached to the wall of the arena.

  They continued on, slinking quietly past the row of parked cars and caravans. It must have been much later than they thought because—aside from the guard lights which came on at intervals along the side of the arena—everything was dark and quiet.

  “Oh no, the humans must have all gone to bed,” said Suka guiltily. “My Boy will be really upset that I wasn’t there. I always sleep at his feet.”

  Biscuit hunched his shoulders. “Well, I’m not in a hurry to see my Missus. After our escape this afternoon, I think she’s going to shut me in a crate for life!”

  Honey felt another stab of remorse as she looked down the row of caravans. Right at the end, she could see the last caravan with its lights still on. Olivia must be waiting up for me, still hoping that I might come home.

  They passed a yellow car with a sloping roof parked next to a large blue tent: Colette’s car, Honey remembered. She thought of Colette’s birthday party—it was only two nights ago and yet now seemed ages ago. That table full of food had been set up next to this tent. Now there was no table in sight and the tent flaps were firmly closed, although she noticed a slight opening at the bottom of the zip, almost as if somebody had pushed their way in. Or out, she thought.

  Honey was about to hurry past when she noticed that Biscuit had fallen behind. She looked back. He had stopped by the car parked just before Colette’s and was sniffing something intently in the grass. The car was a station wagon and it had a sticker on its window, showing a tall dog with long legs and flowing hair. Afghans. Honey recognised it as Tiffany and Dior’s car. Next to it was another large blue tent, also with its flaps down. Honey wondered if the Afghans were inside.

  She turned back. “Biscuit? What is it?”

  The others stopped and looked back too. The Beagle followed his nose from the car to the side of the tent and stopped by the closed flaps. He raised his nose from the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  “This scent ... I know it ...”

  “What scent?” asked Honey.

  “It’s the second scent ... you know, the second scent I picked up on that fake Peemail. One of the scents led to that storeroom—it was the smell of the soot—but the other one ... I’ve been trying to figure out what it is ...” Biscuit looked down triumphantly at something in the grass. “Now I know!”

  Honey walked over and bent to look. Nestled deep in the grass next to the tent was a small, rectangular, flat object. It must have been dropped there by mistake. She sniffed it cautiously. It made a slight crackling sound—like plastic—and she saw the shine of silver foil in the dim glow from the distant guard lights. Little round holes were punched out of the silver surface at regular intervals. Suddenly Honey knew what it was. She had seen Olivia take out something similar from the kitchen drawer several times and pop out little pills from it, which her human would then swallow with water. It was human medicine.

  She tilted her head as the silver foil caught the light again and she realised that there were letters printed on it: “BENADRYL”.

  Honey’s mind began to spin. Where had she heard that name before?

  “What is it, mate?” Ruffster came up, followed by Suka. He thrust his nose at the pill packet, flipping it over in his haste to smell it. The other side of the rectangle showed little plastic bubbles raised up from the silver foil. Most of the bubbles were empty, but a few still had a little pink pill in each.

  Honey stared at the pink pills. Pink.

  She turned to Biscuit. “Biscuit—that second scent you picked up from the Peemail ... the one that you said is the same here ... did it smell ‘pink’?”

  “Aw, Honey, no dog can smell pink—not even a Beagle,” said Biscuit.

  “I know, I know,” said Honey. “But you know what I mean.”

  Biscuit hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess ... sort of pink.”

  Honey took a deep breath. “I think I’ve smelled the same scent as you—but I didn’t smell it in the fake Peemail. I smelled it in the bowl of poisoned dog biscuits that Anja ate. And it’s the same scent that you found here ... which means these are the pills used to poison Anja!”

  Suka flicked her tail sceptically. “Are you sure? I mean, how do you know that you and Biscuit are talking about the same scent? Just because they both sort of smell ‘pink’?”

  Honey flipped the packet back over so they could all read the name on the back. “See this? Anja told me the Vet found out that the poison in her dog biscuits was something called ‘Benadryl’. It makes you sleepy when you take it, especially if you take too much. And something else,” she added urgently. “When the Boxer got that allergic reaction, I saw the Afghan Lady give the Boxer’s humans some pills to help. She said they were Benadryl and they would help to stop the itching. I remember Tiffany telling me the Afghan Lady is allergic to dogs, that’s why she has that medicine: to help stop her sneezing constantly when she comes to dog shows.”

  “Wait ... so you’re saying that the Afghan Lady’s the one who poisoned Anja?” said Suka. “She’s the one behind all these attacks?”

  “But she seems so nice,” said Biscuit.

  “No, it’s not her—it’s Dior!” cried Ruffster. “Reckon he’s the one behind everythin’! He could’ve just nicked some o’ these pills from his human and put them into Anja’s bowl—he was close enough to do it without anybody seein’. And he must’ve done somethin’ to that Chihuahua too, to make her break her leg.”

  “And he was behind the attack on that poor Boxer,” Suka agreed. “Then he tried to get the other dogs to put the blame on you because you’re a mongrel!”

  “Where is he now?” demanded Ruffster, growling. “I’m goin’ to find him and sort this out now.”

  He marched towards the tent, but Suka jumped in his way.<
br />
  “Don’t be stupid, Ruffster! You’ll wake his human up and we’ll all get in trouble. Now isn’t the time to have a dog fight.”

  “But—”

  “He’s not in there anyway,” said Biscuit.

  They all turned to look at the Beagle, who was still standing next to the tent. He had shoved his nose cautiously between the flaps—which were unzipped—and was taking a deep sniff.

  “His scent,” Biscuit explained, pulling his nose out of the gap. “I can tell. He’s not in the tent. It’s just their human sleeping in there.”

  “So where’s he gone at this time o’ the night?” demanded Ruffster. “Reckon he’s up to no good.”

  “What about his sister, Tiffany?” asked Honey.

  Biscuit shook his head. “No dogs in there.”

  Strange, where would she have gone? Honey wondered. Had the brother and sister gone off together? A snuffling sound made them all look up. A window on the caravan next to them was open and, as they watched, a black nose stuck curiously out, sniffing the night air. The next minute a white furry face joined the nose. It was a “Westie”—a West Highland Terrier—and he was looking at them irritably.

  “Some dogs are trying to sleep here, you know.”

  “Sorry, mate,” said Ruffster.

  The Westie peered at them. “You that group of dogs that went missing? Your humans have been going crazy all afternoon and evening. Fair turned the place upside down searching for you lot.”

  Honey felt that pang of guilt again. “We had to go somewhere to do something,” she tried to explain. “But we’re fine and we’re back now.”

  Ruffster went up to the window eagerly. “Have you seen the Afghan from this tent next to you?”

  “Afghan?” The Westie thought for a moment. “Yeah, sneaked out of the tent and went off with that French Poodle.”