One Dog and His Boy

by Iva Ibbotson

  Then Li-Chee was taken away to have his ears syringed and only Fleck was left. He tried hard to amuse himself but it was very lonely without the other dogs, and though his cage was comfortable it was still a cage, and without meaning to, he began to howl softly.

  In a second, Kayley was in the room.

  “Oh hush, Fleck. Please be quiet. Mr Carker really hates dogs to howl.”

  She fondled his head, and he stopped at once – but there was no hope now that anyone would come for Fleck that day; the hiring stopped at five. And that meant there were only two more days for the Tottenham terrier to earn his keep and become an Easy Pet.

  It was always late when Kayley got home. Mr Carker did not live in the Easy Pets building – he and Mrs Carker had a very elegant flat a few streets away – and it was Kayley’s job to make sure that the dogs were safely in their compound, and the building was locked and the burglar alarm put on at the end of the day. And even when all that was done she had an hour’s journey on the tube.

  But she did not come home to an empty house – far from it. Kayley lived with her mother, her grandfather, her twin brothers, who were still at school, and her ten-year-old sister, Pippa.

  The O’Brians were poor. Kayley’s father had been killed in an accident on a building site, and though her mother had a job sewing for a wealthy lady called Mrs Naryan, and her grandfather had his pension, money was very short. The little house was shabby, the carpets were threadbare, greasy smells from the burger chain next door wafted through the window, but when Kayley came home she was hugged and petted, and when her family asked how she got on, they really wanted to know because they thought that her job as kennel maid to the Carkers was the most interesting you could imagine.

  And the person who hugged the hardest and wanted to know the most was ten-year-old Pippa.

  “Did your plan work?” she asked now. “Has Mr Carker let him stay?”

  Fleck had spent the night at the O’Brians’ and all of them wanted to know about the stray.

  “He’s given him till Friday night. If nobody borrows him by then he’s going to send him away.”

  Pippa was a sturdy, cheerful girl – but now her face puckered up.

  “To the cat and dog shelter?”

  Kayley nodded.

  “Well, I think it’s wicked. He knows perfectly well they can only keep the dogs for three weeks and then if no one’s given them a home, they have to have them put down. It’s just a sneaky way of getting other people to do your dirty work.”

  Pippa knew all about the dogs that Kayley looked after. On Sundays she went along to help Kayley with the cleaning and the feeding; and she was determined, when she was old enough, to follow in her sister’s footsteps.

  “He’s got to let Fleck stay,” she said now.

  “If only he’d see…” said Kayley. “Mind you, Fleck shouldn’t really be a rental dog – he’s a bit mad, the way he goes on about people. He’s like Snow White when she sings that song. You know: ‘One Day My Prince Will Come’. He’s convinced his prince will come – or his princess. You should see his eyes every time someone comes into the room.” She shrugged. “Anyway, we’ve got to make up a pedigree for him before the morning. Mr Carker wants one to put over his cage.”

  Supper was ready then, and the twins needed help with their homework, and after that Grandfather had to be wheeled down to the shop to buy his lottery ticket.

  But at last everything was cleared away and Kayley and Pippa went into the little bedroom they shared and started to work on Fleck’s pedigree.

  “Pedigrees are always complicated and a bit ridiculous,” said Kayley. “The bitches are called things like Wilhelmina Bossyboots of Kilimanjaro. And the more highly bred the dogs are, the longer the names.”

  They spent a long time thinking, but in the end they decided that Fleck’s mother had been called Rodelinda of Mersey Drive because that was the name of the street where they had been for a takeaway on the night they found Fleck.

  “And his father could be Frederick the Fifth of Fillongley,” said Pippa. “It might bring him luck if he was called after the farm.”

  Fillongley was the name of the farm which had belonged to the O’Brians till their great-great-grandfather went bankrupt. There was a painting of it above the mantelpiece, and whatever else occasionally got pawned or sold, the picture of Fillongley Farmhouse stayed where it was.

  They went on making up pedigrees, getting wilder and sillier till it was time for Pippa to go to bed.

  When she came to tuck her sister up for the night, Kayley said, “You’d better pray for Fleck. Pray that there’s someone out there who wants him.”

  “Yes, I will,” said Pippa.

  And she did. But Pippa wasn’t a gentle and accepting girl like Kayley. Pippa was a fighter. She wanted to go out into the world and do battle for the rights of stray dogs everywhere to have a decent home. And not just stray dogs. Everyone who was poor and treated unfairly by life. When she was six, she had dragged a girl called Myrtle to the school toilet and flushed her head down the pan because Myrtle had been bullying an infant in the reception class.

  When later Kayley slipped into the bed beside her sleeping sister, she could hear, quite distinctly, the sound of Pippa grinding her teeth.

  Back in the compound at night, Fleck cheered up again. Though he was careful not to take up Li-Chee’s place by Otto’s left foot, he slept with his roommates. Otto was tired – there is nothing more exhausting than being petted by twenty-five small children – but he had time to give Fleck a goodnight lick before everybody slept.

  But the next morning, and the morning after, which was the fateful Friday, the waiting began again. Fleck now had his name above his cage, and his pedigree, which Kayley had inscribed on a serious-looking piece of paper, and he had a number – Number 51. If only someone came and rented him out, just one person, just for a short time, everything would be all right.

  But the day crawled on, and again nobody came for the little dog. The other dogs became more and more concerned; they understood full well what happened to dogs that never left their cages. They were taken away by two men in brown coats and bundled into a travelling crate and never seen again, and they could hardly bear to watch as Fleck pressed himself against the wire and looked up with his unequal eyes as the borrowers came – but not for him. He knew better now than to howl, and Kayley came whenever she could to stroke him – but as the minutes ticked away the atmosphere in Room A became more and more tense, and when Queen Tilly started one of her squealing sessions because her hot water bottle had cooled down, the others forgot themselves and started to growl.

  Then at three o’clock Mr Carker came in with his clipboard.

  “It seems there isn’t much call for Tottenham terriers,” he told the little dog. “We’ll have to get rid of you. Can’t have you eating me out of house and home.”

  And he told Kayley to expect the men from the Canine Transport Company, who were coming to take the dog away.

  He went out and shut the door and Fleck was left cowering in the corner of his cage. He recognized Mr Carker’s tone all too well. He had heard it often in his hard life as a stray.

  Then at four thirty, a large Mercedes drew up in the street outside, and a man got out, holding the hand of a small boy.

  4

  Hal Chooses

  Mr Carker always saw important clients in his office before he took them round, and Mr Fenton, who was head of International Power Inc., was clearly important.

  “I believe you know our terms,” he said, “they’re laid out in the brochure. Twenty-five pounds an hour, and a deposit of three hundred pounds, returnable when the dog is brought back to us in good condition. Now, for a weekend borrowing we have a special rate—”

  “Yes, yes,” said Mr Fenton hurriedly. Hal had been looking out of the window and hadn’t been listening. He lowered his voice. “Perhaps you have someone who could show my son round while we deal with the business.” He gave Mr Carker a mean
ingful look and Mr Carker caught on quickly. He was very used to people who lied to their children, and he went out into the corridor and shouted for Kayley.

  “Will you take the young gentleman through the rooms and show him the dogs?” he said when she came. “He’s going to pick one out.”

  Kayley smiled at Hal and he smiled back. He thought being a kennel maid must be the most wonderful job in the world; and she was so pretty with her wavy dark hair and her deep blue eyes …

  “I’m allowed to pick out whichever one I want,” Hal told her. “I hope it’ll be a young one because dogs can live for fifteen years, can’t they, or more, so I’ll have him till I’m grown up.”

  Kayley drew in her breath. She knew that Easy Pets were never rented out for more than three days. So they were tricking the child; she’d seen it done before. “Have you got any special breed in mind?”

  Hal shook his head. “No. I just want to look – when I see the right one, I’ll know.” He looked up at her trustingly. “I’ll know at once, I’m absolutely sure.”

  “Yes,” said Kayley. “It’s often like that. One just knows.”

  She took him first to Room E, at the back of the building, and stopped by a basset hound, wheezing mightily in the corner of his cage. He was a most attractive dog, and Hal scratched him through the bars of the cage, but he did not say anything. The dog next to him was the mastiff who had bad dreams, and Hal listened open-mouthed while Kayley told him the sad story of the swallowed finger.

  “She’s over it now, but the other dogs are very gentle with her; it’s as though they know.”

  Nobody could help loving the mastiff but Hal was a sensible boy. It was nearly half-term now but later he would be at school part of each day; such an enormous dog would not get enough exercise. Next to the mastiff was a beautiful Cavalier King Charles spaniel who obediently lay down on his back with his paws in the air ready to be scratched or stroked – or even kicked, because these spaniels are such good-natured dogs that they will do anything to give their owners pleasure.

  “He’s had a bad time too,” said Kayley. “The couple he belonged to split up and they sent him backwards and forwards on the train between Edinburgh and London, from one to the other. If he sees a train now, he just sits down and howls.”

  “Oh, I wish I could have him,” said Hal. “He’s a marvellous dog.” And Kayley nodded, for the spaniel would have been a perfect choice.

  But Hal went on to the next cage, past a corgi, past a schnauzer … and then through into Room D.

  The first dog they came to there was a Dalmatian, and Kayley half waited for Hal to say, “That’s the one,” because since the famous film about Dalmatians every child in the world seemed to want one. But again, though Hal scratched him through the bars, and sighed a little – he did not stop. They passed a Lhasa apso, so hairy that it was hard to tell which end was which, and a pug. The dogs were tired now, it was the end of a working day, but when they saw Kayley come with a visitor they did their best to sit up and greet them politely. A chow … a beautiful Tibetan lion dog … a Labrador…

  Hal was looking a little strained now. He had been absolutely certain that he would know when he came to the dog that was for him – yet they had passed so many marvellous dogs and no voice had spoken inside his head and said, “Stop! This is the one.”

  Suppose he had been mistaken? Suppose there wasn’t one dog waiting for him which he would instantly recognize? And Kayley, seeing his anxiety, put her arm round his shoulders and they moved on into the next room, Room C, where she pointed out the special things about each of the dogs they came to: the markings round the eyes of a deerhound, which in the old days had made people think they could tell the future … the tight woolly coat of the Irish water spaniel which meant they could swim in the coldest water.

  And still Hal marvelled at the dogs, and still he shook his head, and still they went on.

  Hal’s father had come to join them now and he tried to give Hal some advice. “That boxer’s got a nice smooth coat – he wouldn’t make too much of a mess,” he said. Or, “I dare say your mother wouldn’t mind that little dachshund too much?”

  But Hal, with his forehead crumpled up, scarcely heard what he said. With Kayley beside him, he walked from dog to dog – and looked … and did not say the words that everybody waited for.

  Room A now. They passed Otto, and Hal stopped to give him an extra scratch between the ears. The beauty of his character shone through; this was a very special dog, and he saw how tenderly Kayley smiled at him. Francine too; Hal could see through the fussy poodle clipping to her hardworking, steady soul. Then the collie … Hal had seen every Lassie film ever made – but still he did not stop. Nor did he stop for the Peke, or Queen Tilly lying on her hot water bottle.

  But this was the last room. There was one cage in the corner but it was empty. There were no more dogs.

  “I was wrong,” he said in a small voice. “I thought I would know.”

  It didn’t matter. Every dog in the place was worth having. He would get Kayley to pick one out for him, but his confidence was gone.

  It was at this moment that two men in brown overalls came through the door which led from the street into the cubbyhole.

  “We’ve had a message from the shelter,” one of them said. “They’ve got a burst pipe – the floor’s awash and they can’t take in any more animals tonight, so we’ve brought him back. Number fifty-one.”

  “Where is he?” asked Kayley.

  “He’s still in his crate out at the back. We were just going to load him up when we got the message. Where do you want him?”

  “Bring him in here,” said Kayley.

  “Oh, we can’t do that. Mr Carker’s signed him off – he wouldn’t want—”

  “Bring him in,” repeated the kennel maid.

  There was a short pause; then the men shrugged and went out again.

  Kayley followed them. There was the sound of a crate being prised open, and something small and white appeared in the doorway. For a moment, Fleck stood still and looked about him. Then like a bullet from a gun he shot across the room and hurled himself at Hal. Almost at the same time, Hal dropped to his knees and held out his arms.

  “I told you!” he cried. “I told you I’d know. I told you both of us would know!”

  Mr Carker came in at that point and took everything in.

  “Ah, you have found the Tottenham terrier,” he said with an oily smile. “We were just about to take him to … to a dog show … but there’s been a delay.” He turned to Mr Fenton. “Of course for a dog like that we’d have to charge considerably more. The breed is still very rare.”

  Mr Fenton was about to complain, but then he looked at Hal. Or rather he looked at the bundle that was Hal and the dog, seeming to merge into a single thing – and he shrugged and followed Mr Carker to his office.

  “He’s called Fleck,” said Kayley, when the men had gone. “It’s because—”

  Hal looked up at her. “I know why – it’s because he’s got a gold fleck in his left eye.”

  “Yes,” said Kayley. “That is exactly why.”

  5

  First Day

  Hal woke feeling … unusual. He was warm – but that wasn’t so odd. What was odd was that he felt happy. Comfortable. Safe. Not as though he had had bad dreams – not as though he had had dreams at all.

  On the other hand his bed was hard. It was surprisingly hard. Then he realized it wasn’t a bed at all. He was lying on the floor with his duvet over him, and then he remembered. He had promised not to let Fleck sleep on his bed, and he had kept his promise. But he wasn’t going to leave his dog alone on his first day in his new home.

  And at this moment a cold nose was thrust into his hand – and Fleck exploded into the glory of a new day. Like his owner, Fleck woke to safety and happiness and warmth. He leapt on to Hal’s chest, he licked his ear, he jumped off and rolled over so that Hal could rub his stomach.

  But Hal was remembering h
is mother’s words the night before.

  “If he makes a puddle on the carpet he’s going into the garage and staying there.”

  There was no time to lose in getting Fleck out of doors.

  Getting dressed was not easy because Fleck had good ideas of how to “help” – putting Hal’s socks in interesting places and herding his shoes … but when Hal was ready he allowed him to slip on his collar and lead and followed him down the stairs like a model dog walking to heel.

  Hal let himself out of the front door and down the drive. The garden, which wasn’t really a garden but a lot of raked gravel, stretched away to either side but they reached the road before Fleck lifted his leg. Opposite the house was a private garden belonging to the people in the street but there was a notice on the gate saying No Dogs or Unaccompanied Children.

  But past the end of the road, where the houses were smaller and not so elegant, there was a park, open to everybody. His mother didn’t like taking him there; the children who played in it could be rough – but Fleck thought it looked good. He steamed ahead, looking back at Hal every so often, and then they were through the gates.

  It was a very ordinary city park but Fleck behaved as though he was in paradise. He put his head down and sniffed the whole history of the dogs that had been there recently. He tried eating a tuft of grass and sneezed. He found a fascinating pile of raked leaves. And all the time his ears twitched with eagerness, and his face turned back to Hal, making sure that Hal too could smell the smells and feel the earth on his paws, and share.

  Hal let the dog lead him – and because of that found himself face to face with a girl of about his own age with masses of fair hair and bright blue eyes. She was sitting on a bench reading and was the sort of pretty, self-assured girl that usually frightened Hal, but Fleck liked her immediately.

  “He’s got a lot of breeds in him, I’d say?” she said, stroking his back, but Hal shook his head.