by Iva Ibbotson
This exhausted little dog who had hardly been able to put one foot in front of the other raced across the room like a bullet from a gun, passed the first table – felling a waiter who was carrying a tray of glasses and a bottle – and the second table, where a man tried to catch him and toppled over backwards, and crashed violently into the third…
… where a boy had jumped to his feet, knocking over the vase of flowers, which rolled on to the floor and tripped up a lady making her way to the toilet.
The head waiter, hurrying in through the double doors from the kitchen to see what had happened, found everyone screaming and complaining and mopping at their clothes. Everyone except a young boy and a small dog, who saw nothing but each other.
“It’s absolutely extraordinary,” said Albina to her husband when he came home that night. “They had to send for a security guard to carry the wretched dog away, howling and struggling, with his head twisted towards Hal. And yet Hal just sat in the taxi on the way home without any fuss. He didn’t cry or anything, and he seems quite resigned to going away to school. He’s asked if he can spend a night with Joel tomorrow to say goodbye. That was the friend he made in his first school – do you remember? Rather a common little boy, but I’ve said yes.”
“Well, it looks as though he’s growing up at last,” said Donald. “We’ve obviously done the right thing, not letting him wear us down. I’ll go and say goodnight to him.”
Going up to his son’s room, Donald saw that Albina had been telling the truth. Hal seemed calm and quiet, he hardly mentioned having met Fleck in the restaurant, and said he was looking forward to going to school and that he was glad to have a chance to say goodbye to Joel.
And indeed Hal was calm and quiet, because he now knew exactly what he was going to do. One of the things which people had told him was that Fleck would have forgotten him. Well, they had been wrong about that, and it seemed to him that they were wrong about most of the things that mattered.
Hal was tired of living in a grown-up world. It was time to make his own world where things were right and fair and as they ought to be.
Mr Carker was in a towering rage. He stamped through his office, cursing and swearing. The restaurant had sent in a huge bill for the damage that the little dog had done. Gertie Gorland was suing him for the price of her blouse, which had been entirely ruined by soup. The businessmen whose suits had been damaged when the waiter’s tray fell on them were asking for hundreds of pounds to buy new ones, and the lady who had fallen on her way to the toilet was going to send him her medical bills.
“I won’t have it,” raged Mr Carker. “I’ll fight everyone. I won’t pay a penny to those rogues! As for that blasted dog, he’s out of his mind. It’s probably inbreeding – you get that in these pedigree animals.”
He sent for the vet and told him to give Fleck an injection which would keep him quiet till he had decided what to do with him, after which he and Mrs Carker set off for a nice weekend in Brighton to get over the strain of the last few days. Kayley would see to the dogs on Sunday. She always did.
But on Sunday morning, Kayley woke with a temperature, a sore throat and a splitting headache.
“You’ve got flu,” said her mother. “And you’re not going to work.”
“I have to,” said Kayley. “Pippa can’t manage everything on her own and she’s got all her stuff to get ready.”
Pippa was going off to spend a week at school camp on the following day.
But when Kayley tried to sit up in bed, the room spun round and she was forced to lie down again.
“Of course I can manage on my own,” said Pippa, looking mulish. “I know exactly what to do and you know it.”
“It’s too much,” Kayley repeated.
But by this time, Pippa was halfway out of the door.
All the same, Kayley was right. There was a terrible lot to do.
On Sundays there were no rentals; the dogs spent the morning in the compound while the rooms were cleaned, the cages swept, the water bowls rinsed out and the carpets hoovered. In the afternoon the dogs were taken back to their cages for a couple of hours while the yard was hosed down and the bedding in their sleeping quarters changed and the food prepared.
By four o’clock Pippa was exhausted. There were only the dogs in Room A now to be taken back, and the burglar alarm to be put on and she could go home. Otto and Francine and Honey and the little Peke sat quietly in their cages, but Fleck was stretched out barely conscious after his injection. Pippa had had to carry him in from the compound and she felt such rage that if Mr Carker had come in then she would have throttled him. It was for being loving and faithful that the little dog had been punished.
As she bent down to his cage, Pippa heard a noise coming from the office next door. It sounded as though the door from the street was being opened, and by someone who did not want to be heard.
The alarm was not switched on yet. Pippa waited till the sound came again. Then she pounced.
“Got you!” she said, bursting through the door.
The boy she had surprised was about her own age, a slight, fair boy wearing a rucksack and carrying a canvas holdall.
Pippa stared. At the same time from next door came the sound of Fleck whimpering in his drugged sleep, and suddenly Pippa knew.
“You’re the boy who had Fleck,” she said. “Hal, is that your name?” She looked more closely. “Have you come to steal him?”
Hal wasted no time.
“Yes,” he said. “And you’re not going to stop me.”
“I never said I was. But have you got a proper plan?”
Hal nodded. “My parents think I’m staying with a school friend but I’m going to take the night train to the Scottish border. You can buy a ticket for a dog. I’ve got money. My grandparents live there. They’ll take us in, I know they will.”
“Well, that sounds all right. But I warn you, you’ll have to carry Fleck at first.”
Hal’s face went white. “Is he hurt?”
“No. But that charming Mr Carker ordered him to have an injection to keep him quiet. Come on, we’d better hurry. I’ve got his flannel – you’d better take that. Thank goodness my sister’s not here. She’s one of those good people. She can’t help it; she thinks you mustn’t break the law.”
“I used to be like that,” said Hal.
He followed her into the room and bent over Fleck’s cage. Hal had no eyes for anyone except Fleck, but the other dogs got to their feet, quivering with curiosity and excitement … and then with despair.
For they knew what was going to happen. Fleck’s story was going to end happily. His master had returned and was gathering him up to take him out into the world. Fleck was going to be free.
Otto was as devoid of envy as any dog but his whole body trembled with longing. Francine had pushed her muzzle right up to the bars and her black eyes were full of grief. Grunts of frustration came from the Peke.
Hal, lifting up his sleeping dog, saw none of this. But Pippa saw it. She had grown up with these dogs and she knew them like she knew her own brothers.
“Let me know when you get there,” she said. She scribbled her name and phone number on a piece of paper and Hal put it in his pocket.
“Thank you,” he said. “I won’t forget.”
It was very quiet when Hal had gone. Time to take the other dogs back to the compound and put on the burglar alarm. Time to go home.
But Pippa did not move. She was looking at Otto, still trembling with longing, at the anguish in the collie’s eyes …
And she was their jailer. Hal, whom she had despised as rich and feeble, had freed his dog, but not she. She was dooming them to imprisonment, to sitting there like toys, day after day, waiting to be claimed.
The dogs expected nothing. They only looked. Then Otto moaned once softly – and suddenly Pippa went mad. She marched over to the cages and one by one she undid the catches and threw wide the doors. Then she opened the door into the office and the one out into the st
reet.
“You can go,” she told the dogs.
And they understood her. Otto waited for a moment to lick her hand; Honey rubbed her head against Pippa’s skirt, saying thank you.
Then they were gone.
Only Queen Tilly stayed in her cage, though the door was open. Freedom did not interest this spoilt creature. Later she began to complain because her hot water bottle had gone cold, but there was nobody left to hear her. Nobody at all.
10
And Then There Were Five
Hal’s arms were getting tired. He had not expected to have to carry his dog to King’s Cross station. He had bought a map and learnt the route from Easy Pets and it shouldn’t have taken more than an hour to walk, but that was when he thought that Fleck would be trotting at his heels.
To begin with the little dog was just a dead weight, but now he was beginning to stir in Hal’s arms. His back leg twitched once, then again, and Hal turned into a small park with a fountain and sat down on the rim. It was dusk, and the people were all leaving. Soon the street lights would be lit.
The panic Hal had felt when he found Fleck stretched out in his cage had died down. Pippa had told him that he would recover, and Pippa knew about dogs. Now he laid Fleck down across his lap and began slowly, steadily to stroke his back.
“Please wake up,” he begged his dog. “Please.”
And it worked. The injection was wearing off and now Fleck turned and opened his eyes – and then he looked at Hal. Looked and looked with his dark right eye and his gold-flecked left eye, trying to believe what he was seeing. He gave a ghost of a whimper and then another. He was still too weak to do more than faintly move his tail, but as he took in that he was really there, where he needed to be, he began carefully to lick Hal’s wrist. He licked it steadily, thoroughly, making sure that everything was as clean as it ought to be.
Then he began on the other one. No piece of skin was left unwashed; every inch was cared for. Only when he had made certain that everything was as it should be did his tail start to wag, slowly at first, then fast, and faster … and from his throat came a burst of ecstatic barks.
And Hal held him close and told him that he would never leave him again. Never.
“I swear it, Fleck,” said Hal to his dog. “No one will come between us ever again, do you hear me?”
Fleck heard him. He became very quiet, and sighed, and buried his head in Hal’s chest and slept once more.
At first the four dogs Pippa had let out simply ran. They bounded down the long straight street which led away from Easy Pets, feeling the strength in their legs and the breeze blowing through their coats. Li-Chee had to take four steps to one of theirs, but even with his bandy legs he kept up.
They were free! No one tugged at their leads, shouted at them, pulled them away from whatever it was that they wanted to see or smell or touch. They had dreamed of running like this so often as they slept, their limbs twitching – and woken to face another day of sitting in their cages.
When they had run the length of the shopping street, they came to a row of houses with gardens. One of the garden gates was open. The patch of lawn was messy and rough; there were no flowers in the flower beds. It was exactly right for what they needed to do.
Francine went first, rolling and rubbing and rolling again. Then Honey followed, and Otto and Li-Chee. They rolled and turned and crawled on their stomachs, rubbing themselves as hard as they could against the scratchy grass. They pushed their faces into the earth. From time to time they stopped, their tongues lolling from the effort, and grinned at each other.
And it worked! Gradually the loathsome scents that had been sprayed on the dogs at Easy Pets disappeared, blotted out by earth and grass and mouldy leaves and comforting compost. The last whiffs of “Mountain Glory” left Otto’s thick coat, the vile odour of Francine’s “Dark Dancer” coiled up and was wafted away. Honey’s horrible “Heather Mist” and Li-Chee’s “Lotus Blossom” were extinguished. They sniffed each other blissfully, making sure that they smelled as they should smell once again: of dog. But now someone came out of the house shouting and shooing.
“Get out!” he said. “Get out of my garden at once.”
The dogs looked at him. They would have liked to thank him for the use of his garden but he didn’t seem to want to be thanked so they trotted out of the gate and into the street.
Now that they were rid of the ghastly, gooey scents which had plagued them, they could really enjoy the smells they came across. Spices from a distant kebab shop … pigeons on the roof … worm casts in a tub … an old shoe caught in a drain … dust and the sour smell of spilled milk from a doorway … cats which had passed by, of course … tom cats, kittens … a dead mouse in a gutter …
They had never been allowed to spend long enough at a lamp post, with its whirligig of amazing odours, before someone had yanked them back.
Then suddenly Otto stood stock-still and called the others. They came at once because what Otto had discovered was obviously important. They had caught the smell of a hundred pairs of feet, and of more dogs than they could count, but the smell which now came to them was familiar. It belonged to the boy who had come to Easy Pets to take away his dog. Now, as they put their noses together, they could smell the dog. It was Fleck, the small white mongrel who had been their friend.
They waited no longer. Their noses down, their tails up, they set off down the road, across a zebra crossing, and into a small park with a fountain.
Everybody now felt fine except for Hal. Fleck had greeted his friends with enthusiasm, barking and wagging his tail from the security of Hal’s lap. The four dogs who had been freed from Easy Pets felt fine too. It was good to see the little terrier again, and though roaming free through the town had been interesting, it was comforting to find a human whom they could trust. They settled themselves at Hal’s feet, ready to do his bidding, and Li-Chee, who was really very tired, closed his eyes and had a nap.
But Hal was desperate. He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when the Easy Pets dogs came bounding across the park towards him. What should he do now? The dogs must have escaped after Pippa left, which meant she would get into trouble, but he couldn’t think of that now. Nor could he take the dogs back. The risk that there would be someone there who would make him give Fleck back was far too great.
“Go home,” Hal said, trying to sound firm. “Go on – go home!” and he waved his arms in the direction of the street.
The dogs just looked at him. Otto’s ears twitched; Francine blinked. Humans did make odd remarks like that sometimes. It was best to take no notice. Where was home? Certainly not the place they had come from. Not one of them moved.
And why should they? thought Hal. What kind of “home” was Easy Pets for a self-respecting dog? But he had to get Fleck to King’s Cross. The train left at nine-thirty and it was the last one of the night. Surely if he began to walk they would make their own way back?
He put Fleck down on the ground, and clipped on his collar and lead. It was awful to leave the dogs to fend for themselves but he had to get Fleck away before anyone noticed that he was gone.
He began to walk towards the gates of the park. Fleck could walk quite well now, with only a slight drunken lurch. The effects of the injection were almost gone. And a few paces behind, quietly and without fuss, came Otto and Francine, Honey and Li-Chee. A drunk carrying a bottle came towards them, and Otto’s hackles rose. He growled in his throat, and the drunk retreated. Not only was Otto accompanying them, but he had set himself up as a bodyguard.
Following his map, Hal walked the streets of London with his Tottenham terrier – and a few paces behind, correct and obedient, came the four dogs who had broken free. Every so often Hal stopped and said, “Go home, go on. Go!” and they looked at him politely, waiting till he should set off again. They were no trouble; stopping at zebra crossings, talking to any other dogs they met only briefly before catching up again with Hal. Fleck’s tail was high with pride, for not on
ly was he reunited with his master, but he was enjoying the company of his friends.
They reached King’s Cross at last. Fleck was overwhelmed by the throng of people, and Hal picked him up as he made his way to the ticket office.
“Go home, please,” he said for the last time to the four dogs who were following him, but they only pressed closer on his heels because there were smells and sounds there that were most unappealing to self-respecting dogs. Someone was being sick; a group of people in funny hats were shouting and hiccupping and singing stupid songs. The dogs looked at Hal with their innocent eyes, wondering why they were there, but they trusted him to do his best even in this loathsome place.
Hal was desperate. He carried Fleck to the queue for the ticket office, and the four dogs queued also, silent and well behaved. Even if he’d had the money to buy tickets for the four escapees, he couldn’t have done it. The regulations said a passenger was allowed to bring only one dog on to the train.
“Yes?” said the ticket clerk impatiently.
“A single to Berwick on Tweed and one for the dog,” said Hal, laying his money on the counter.
He took his ticket and the one for Fleck. The train was on platform seven. There weren’t many trains now. He made his way along the almost empty platform, and the dogs, full of trust, came after him.
Hal knew there was only one thing to do. Getting Fleck away safely was a matter of life and death. He would get on the train and shut the door quickly and then – he was sure – the other dogs would go away. In the morning, when he reached Berwick, he would ring Pippa and tell her what had happened and she could organize a search for the dogs. Nothing terrible could happen to them in one night.
He got into his carriage and put Fleck down on the floor. Then he climbed in after him and turned to shut the door. The four dogs were still on the platform, looking up at him trustingly, but he hardened his heart.
“Come on, Fleck,” he said, and made his way to his seat.
