A Dog Called Jack

by Ivy Pembroke

  A gaggle of children suddenly came running up, having an enormous disagreement over something. Miss Quinn looked at them, breaking the spell, and Sam blinked and straightened away from her, shaking off the vestiges of the daze. And Clever Sam shouted at Foolish Sam in his head, For God’s sake, the only place worse than a school coach for a first grown-up kiss would definitely be a noisy, riotous Year 4 classroom.

  Miss Quinn gave Sam an apologetic look. “I must—”

  Sam forced himself to say, “Yeah. Yes. Of course. Go,” and make a pointless gesture with his hands, and call out, “Happy Halloween,” as Miss Quinn moved into the pack of children, and she glanced over her shoulder at him with a little wistful smile.

  Sam ducked out of the classroom and started the walk back home and that smile lingered with him, wrapped around his heart, and settled warmly in his stomach, like a gentle glow, and the feeling of quiet, contented stillness inside him never quite went away. The world hummed all around him, busy and bustling, and Sam felt a little bit like he floated through it, barely touching the pavement, barely registering all of the people jostling past him.

  Maybe, Sam thought, it was like being in love.

  * * *

  “And what are you supposed to be?” asked Tommy Dower, with that usual look on his face.

  Teddy had learned to hate Tommy Dower. Teddy had a list of things he hated in his life. It used to be that England in general was at the top of that list. At the moment it was Tommy Dower who occupied the first part of the list. The rest of England was improving in Teddy’s view, but the corner of the country occupied by Tommy Dower was still horrendous.

  “I’m a football player,” Teddy said, and gave Tommy Dower an answering look.

  “A football player?” said Tommy, and started laughing, and all of Tommy’s annoying friends started laughing. Most of the time it seemed as if almost every person in the class was Tommy Dower’s friend except for Teddy. “What sort of rubbish football player is that?”

  Pari leaned over Teddy to insert hotly, “He’s an American football player,” because Pari never stayed out of an oncoming fight, in Teddy’s experience.

  “Oh, like, fake football?” sneered Tommy.

  “It isn’t fake—” Pari began, coming to Teddy’s defense. Except that then Molly Wasserstein said, “I think it’s kind of cool.”

  Teddy blinked, surprised.

  So did Tommy.

  Molly, ignoring all of them, came up to Teddy and picked up his helmet and said, “Can I try it on?”

  Teddy and Pari exchanged equally confused looks. Was bullying right around the corner? Was this a trick?

  “Sure?” Teddy said, not at all sure.

  Molly put the helmet on, and it swallowed up her head, and Teddy could just about make out her eyes through the protective grille. She said, “This is aces in here!”

  Which started a clamoring from the other kids—save Tommy. But everyone seemed to want a turn in the helmet.

  Teddy watched the helmet get passed around the classroom and couldn’t help but feel a moment of pure pleasure. Pari nudged him and smiled when he looked at her, like, This is nice, isn’t it?

  It was nice, and even better to have someone to share it with, thought Teddy.

  * * *

  Teddy and Pari walked home from school, Halloween costumes slightly bedraggled, and Jack came to meet them as usual, bouncing about in excitement at having them back, and chasing a few leaves around the street for their amusement, and otherwise telling them all about what they had missed while they were at school, which was generally, they assumed, standoffs with the street squirrels.

  When Dad greeted him at the door and said, “How was your day?” Teddy replied enthusiastically, “It was an awesome Halloween. Everyone loved my helmet. They all wanted to try it on. It was great. Great costume.”

  “Oh, good,” said Dad, as Teddy went running to the back of the house with Jack following, barking joyfully.

  “Next year,” Teddy said, opening the door to let Jack out and then preparing to follow behind him, “we should get Jack a costume, too.”

  * * *

  “Have we thought through,” Libby asked, “what might happen to someone who lives in a desert, like the manger owner in the class play, if climate change causes it to suddenly snow?” The class frowned intensely, all of them clearly thinking about this.

  So Libby gave them some gentle prompting. “What do we do in our houses, when it gets cold?”

  “Turn on the heating,” said Marya immediately.

  “Right. Do you think that the manger owner has heat?”

  “In his stable?”said Pari, wrinkling her nose.

  Libby was pleased. “Exactly. So what do you think will happen to all the animals?”

  “They’ll be cold,” said Patrick.

  “Wouldn’t the baby Jesus make them warm?” said Edwina.

  “The baby Jesus is just a baby,” said Molly. “He’s not doing anything special yet aside from crying. Trust me. My baby brother does nothing.”

  “Is your baby brother the baby Jesus, though?” asked Pari, very seriously, as if this was going to make a difference in the conversation.

  Libby interjected, “Say the baby Jesus doesn’t wander into your stable to be born. All of your animals are cold. You’ll have to find some way to get them warm. And you probably don’t even have useful heating in your house, because you live in the desert.”

  The children absorbed this solemnly.

  “So you’ll need to figure out something. And it’s going to cost you money.”

  “Heating is expensive,” said Misty.

  “Very expensive. Very dear. So what do you think can be done for the poor manger owners?”

  “Insurance,” said Gilbert. “When my mum got in a car accident, the insurance helped us fix the car when we didn’t have money to pay for it.”

  “Exactly,” said Libby. “Insurance. So let’s talk about what insurance is. Because insurance is going to depend on probability.” She turned to the board.

  * * *

  Teddy and Pari were sprawled on their stomachs on the carpet in the lounge, working laboriously on their scenes for the Christmas play.

  They’d been at it for a while, and Sam, curious, finally couldn’t stand it any longer and wandered into the lounge and said, “So tell me about the school play.”

  “It’s about the birth of Jesus,” Teddy said.

  “Do you know that story?” asked Pari.

  Sometimes Sam couldn’t tell if Pari would have asked these questions of anyone or if she genuinely worried that Sam had an appalling lack of knowledge. Sam said, “I know the story. What’s your scene about?”

  “Our scene is about the owner of the manger,” said Teddy.

  “Really?” said Sam. “He’s not someone you hear a lot about in that story, usually.”

  “Right,” Pari agreed. “But he has a lot to say. Considering that all of his animals are in the freezing cold probably dying because he doesn’t have any heat.”

  Sam blinked in surprise. “That is a lot of stress for him to be under.”

  “Exactly.” Pari went back to her piece of paper.

  Teddy said, “His animals are dying because of climate change. He used to live in a desert, and now there’s a blizzard.”

  “Baby Jesus is being born in a blizzard?” asked Sam.

  Pari nodded.

  Sam grinned. “I like this twist. Teddy was born in a blizzard, you know.”

  * * *

  “You never said that!” Pari said to Teddy. “That’s so cool!”

  “It was in America,” said Teddy, as if to remind Pari that it hadn’t been a blizzard she had also got to experience.

  “That’s mostly where blizzards happen,” Pari agreed. “These days. Climate change may change things.”

  “True,” Sam agreed.

  “And that’s where insurance kicks in!” added Teddy enthusiastically.

  “Insurance?” Sam had no
t expected that to be the next topic of conversation.

  Teddy nodded. “Miss Quinn told us all about insurance, and how it’s based on probability, and how you have to pay more based on how likely something is, and so it’s not likely you’d have a snowstorm in the desert, so he probably wouldn’t pay much.”

  “Unless climate change makes snowstorms likely everywhere,” added Pari.

  “And if it’s super unlikely, then maybe the person who owns the manger doesn’t even have insurance, and then what can they do?” finished Teddy.

  “Sounds like this insurance situation is very intense,” said Sam.

  “It is,” Pari agreed, nodding wisely. “It’s going to be very dramatic.”

  “Jack is going to whine very pitifully,” Teddy said.

  “Whine about what?”

  “The whole situation. He will ‘provoke sympathy.’ Miss Quinn says you want to ‘provoke sympathy’ in your audience if you want them on your side,” Teddy announced grandly.

  “This is true,” Sam said. “I just didn’t know Jack was in the play.”

  “Oh, we’re writing him in,” said Pari. “He’s going to be one of the animals in the manger.”

  “Are you having other live animals, too? Live donkeys? Live cows?”

  Pari and Teddy both gave him the perfect looks of despairing put-upon-ness.

  “Dad,” said Teddy. “Who has live cows?”

  “Do you know anyone who has a donkey?” added Pari.

  “No,” Sam admitted.

  “Dogs can be at the birth of Jesus,” said Teddy.

  “There’s nothing that says dogs can’t be there,” said Pari.

  “So Jack will be there because Jack’s what we have.”

  “Jack and insurance problems,” remarked Sam. And then, as it occurred to him, “Hey. You know who works in insurance?”

  * * *

  Max was getting out the Christmas decorations.

  Max loved Christmas. Every year, Max was the first person on the street to put the decorations out. Every year, he hoped to persuade Arthur to let him do it before Halloween. He had not yet hit upon the magical means of persuasion that would make Arthur permit him to do that, but Arthur had stopped fighting him on anything post-Halloween. As soon as Halloween was over, Christmas decorations were fair game.

  Max’s approach to Christmas decorations was grand and artistic. Every year he worked intensely on a different vision. There was no need to be boring and routine when it came to Christmas. Every year, Max was determined to do something new and unique. Max’s Christmas decorating schemes were art.

  Max kept the Christmas decorations upstairs in the art studio, which was an expansive, airy attic with plenty of storage space. Arthur had suggested putting the decorations in the shed and Max had been appalled. Something as precious as Christmas decorations must be in the house for safekeeping. What if thieves broke into the shed?

  “And stole Christmas decorations?” Arthur had said skeptically.

  Arthur clearly didn’t grasp the true value of their spectacular Christmas decorations. And Max had managed to win the storage space discussion, as the art studio was considered his sole domain.

  So Max was standing in the art studio dragging out Christmas decorations and arranging them systematically over the floor, according to type, color, size and artistic attraction, which was difficult to describe, but Max knew its level instantly. When the doorbell rang.

  “Darling?” Max shouted. “Could you get that?” He’d left Arthur in the kitchen, but Arthur had been talking about popping out to the shops, and Max had been too caught up in the Christmas decorations to notice whether Arthur had left yet or not.

  Max, getting no response from Arthur, moved out of the art studio and halfway down the stairs. Arthur was still home, and had opened the door to reveal Teddy and Pari and Jack. Jack came bounding happily up the stairs to Max, tail wagging in greeting.

  “Hello, Jack,” Max said, responding with a scratch behind Jack’s ears. “And hello, children. To what do we owe this visit?”

  “We’ve come to ask Arthur about insurance,” said Teddy happily.

  Max looked at Arthur in amused surprise. “Oh, really?”

  Arthur’s ears were adorably pink with a pleasure that Max knew he would strenuously deny if asked. He said, “So they say.”

  “We have lots of questions,” said Pari. “It’s a very serious matter.”

  “Not too serious, I hope.” Max glanced at Arthur. “I will leave you to your important clients.”

  “Thank you,” said Arthur, looking torn between confusion and approval regarding the gravity with which Pari and Teddy were clearly treating this occasion.

  Max went upstairs to occupy himself with the Christmas decorations again, normally an all-consuming task, but he was hopelessly distracted by the idea of Arthur, downstairs, with two children who inexplicably wanted to know about insurance. The idea of Arthur with children was irresistible in general. They didn’t do much interacting with children.

  Eventually, Max could resist no longer, and crept down the stairs just far enough to peek around the wall. Arthur was at the kitchen table, facing the children, whose backs were to Max, so Max could see the little frown of concentration on Arthur’s face. He looked as if they were having a very serious conversation indeed. Max was fond of telling Arthur that his heart had fallen at Arthur’s feet the very first time he saw him, and Arthur scoffed, but Max had felt it, and he felt it again at that moment, Arthur so somber and intent toward eight-year-old insurance issues, whatever those might be.

  Pari was saying, “So if someone doesn’t have insurance, there’s nothing you can do for them?”

  “Nothing the insurance company could do,” Arthur said.

  “But of course we would all try to pull together to help them out.”

  “But it would be better to have insurance,” concluded Pari.

  “It’s always a good idea. Then you can stop worrying about it.”

  Max smiled fondly. Arthur was such an insurance agent.

  “Sometimes it can be hard to stop worrying,” said Teddy.

  Arthur looked at him closely, and then said, “Yeah. It can be. And that’s okay. It’s just also good to sometimes make yourself take a deep breath and see what you have already, because if you’re too worried about what could be, sometimes you forget to enjoy what is. You forget to appreciate the good stuff in your life. Sometimes you have insurance just to give your head some room to enjoy what it is you’re trying so desperately to protect. It’s your backup plan to keep safe the things that you love.”

  Max leaned his head against the wall and watched the look on Arthur’s face.

  “Yeah, like enjoying your stable with a baby Jesus inside,” said Pari, which made zero sense to Max.

  And chased the reflective, thoughtful look off Arthur’s face. “Yeah,” he said wryly. “Like that.”

  “Dad makes us say adventures every night,” said Teddy.

  “Adventures?” echoed Arthur.

  “Yeah. A fun thing that happened to us during the day. I think so we don’t forget to appreciate the good stuff.”

  Arthur smiled. “That’s a nice thing to do. It’s a good idea. Your dad’s clever.”

  “His adventures are usually pretty boring,” said Teddy. “What would your adventure be?”

  “Living with Max,” said Arthur, tone desert-dry, which made Max laugh and reveal his presence.

  The children turned to look at him. Arthur also looked at him, and Max winked at him, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

  “Arthur gave us lots of information about environmental insurance,” Pari announced as she stood.

  “How kind of him,” said Max. “Is that what you wanted to know about?”

  Pari and Teddy both nodded.

  “And what about you, Jack?” Max asked Jack, who had come bouncing over to be greeted again as if Max had not already greeted him before. “What did you learn about?”

  “J
ack learned about the Jaffa Cakes the children kept slipping him under the table,” replied Arthur. “Here, make sure you take them home with you,” he said to the children, handing them the package that had been on the table.

  “Thanks, Arthur,” they chorused. “Bye, Max!”

  They swept out the door, followed by Jack, who gave one last courteous bark good-bye, and Max watched them through the window as they went racing up the street.

  Max looked back at Arthur, who walked to stand at the foot of the staircase, two steps below where Max was. Max lifted an eyebrow. “They wanted to know about environmental insurance?”

  “For their Christmas play at school.”

  “This must be the only Christmas play in history with insurance as a major story point,” remarked Max.

  “And climate change,” said Arthur.

  Max chuckled and pulled Arthur in, the height difference imposed by the steps making Arthur even with Max’s chest. He said, “This sounds like a Christmas play not to be missed.” There was a moment of silence. “You gave them all my Jaffa Cakes, you big softie.”

  Arthur sighed. “Walk me through your Christmas Spectacle idea this year.”

  Which made Max brighten and forget all about Jaffa Cakes.

  Chapter 11

  Bonfire & Firework Display!

  Gates open at 6:00pm, Bonfire starts at 7:00pm, Firework display starts at 8:00pm.

  Admission:

  Adults £4. Children £1. Under 5’s Free.

  Limited parking available—car park £1.

  Food available.

  Children’s rides.

  For safety reasons—no fireworks or sparklers.

  No alcohol allowed.

  Under 14’s must be accompanied by an adult.

  Emilia was spying out the window, so she saw the exact moment the Basaks left their house to head to the firework display. Mr. and Mrs. Basak stepped out first, although Pari quickly skipped in front of them. Sai brought up the rear and looked up toward Emilia’s window as he passed, lifting his eyebrows in silent invitation.