A Dog Called Jack

by Ivy Pembroke

  Emilia immediately turned from the window and sought out her parents, who were sitting in silence in the lounge, her dad watching TV and her mother reading a book.

  Emilia said, “I want to go to the fireworks. Can I go? The rest of the street is going. I can just walk up with them.” She spoke quickly, knowing that the Basaks would stop to retrieve the Bishops, but then they would all be on their way, and it might be difficult to find them again.

  Dad looked up from the telly. “The fireworks? Actually, that’s a good idea. Sounds like fun. We haven’t gone to see fireworks in ages.” He glanced over at Mum, who hadn’t even looked up from her book. “Anna?” he said.

  “Hmm?” Mum looked up at that, still distracted.

  “I think I’m going to go to the fireworks with Emilia,” said Dad. “You should join us.”

  It wasn’t what Emilia had wanted—she had wanted to be able to slip off somewhere with Sai—and she was honestly shocked. She couldn’t remember the last time her parents had done something like this, together.

  So she looked at Mum, genuinely curious what her mother would say.

  “That’s okay,” Mum said. “You two go.”

  Dad sighed. “Anna. Come with us, hmm?”

  “Are they even having fireworks?” asked Mum without looking up from her book. “It’s not the best night for it.”

  Emilia glanced out the window, where the air was wet enough that it glistened with mist. Not that she cared, because the fireworks were hardly the point for her.

  “It might clear before they start. Come with us, it would be fun.” Dad walked over to Mum and picked up her hand and kissed it, and Emilia had to turn away at the naked emotional plea on Dad’s face.

  Apparently Mum was unmoved, because Emilia heard her reply, “It’s been a long day. I don’t feel like going anywhere. I’ll just stay in here with the cats.”

  There was a long silence. Emilia risked a glance over her shoulder, to see Dad standing by Mum’s chair, still and quiet, Mum still reading her book. As if he wasn’t standing right there.

  Emilia had wanted to go to the firework display by herself but suddenly she experienced a bolt of pure fury toward Mum, for doing this to Dad. She said loudly, “Come on, Dad. Let’s get going. I could murder some chips.”

  She found herself holding her breath, but Dad said eventually, “Yeah, let’s go.”

  * * *

  “I just want to say,” said Teddy, shrugging away from Sam when he tried to zip up his jacket a little tighter, “that having fireworks in November is a terrible idea. July’s much better than standing outside in cold rain.”

  “I actually can’t argue with you there.” Sam handed Teddy a hat.

  Teddy recoiled. “I’m not wearing that.”

  “It’s cold outside, and rainy, and I don’t want you to catch pneumonia.”

  Teddy said, “Whose fault is it that we’re in a place where I’m going to catch pneumonia?”

  “Your grandparents’ fault, for giving birth to me in this country and not a warmer, drier climate,” replied Sam, as the doorbell rang.

  Sam opened it on the Basaks, who all chorused hellos, except for Sai, who was lingering in the back and glancing moodily up the street as if waiting for somebody. Arthur and Max and Pen were heading in their direction, but Sam doubted that was who Sai was looking for.

  Everyone met up and exchanged general observations about the weather and whether the fireworks would actually happen. While they were debating it, the Pachutas’ door opened and closed and Emilia and her father stepped out and walked up to the knot of people. Sam noticed that Sai, who had been basically sulking, brightened right away.

  Emilia’s father said mildly, “Mind if we join you?”

  “Not at all,” said Sam pleasantly, noting that Sai looked as if he agreed. Neither Marcel Pachuta nor Diya and Darsh Basak seemed to notice, however. Darsh was talking to Arthur about something and Diya was busy nosily nudging past Sam to ask Marcel where Anna was.

  Pen said, “Hang on, let me dart in here to collect Jack and make sure Mr. Hammersley joins all of you.”

  Sam found himself standing next to Max and said, “Speaking of Mr. Hammersley, what exactly is this top-secret art project you’re working on?”

  “Top secret,” replied Max cheerfully. “How’s the environmental insurance Christmas play coming along?”

  Sam chuckled. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? But I think very well. I hope Arthur didn’t mind that I sent them in his direction.”

  “Are you joking?” said Max. “It was the highlight of Arthur’s year so far. He was tickled pink at getting to explain his beloved insurance.”

  “I think they’re working on probability in school or something,” Sam said, as Mr. Hammersley opened the door and Jack came bounding out.

  Sam couldn’t hear the conversation Pen and Mr. Hammersley had, but then Pen turned to all of them and called, “Mr. Hammersley doesn’t wish to go to the fireworks! Tell him that’s rubbish!”

  “That’s rubbish!” they all shouted obediently.

  Teddy called out, “Please come, Mr. Hammersley. It’s going to be so much fun!”

  “Absolutely, Bill,” Max shouted from beside Sam. “We can’t go without you!”

  Mr. Hammersley stood in the doorway, plainly bewildered.

  “Oh, do come, Mr. Hammersley!” Pari exclaimed.

  Mr. Hammersley blinked at them, and then said, after a long moment, “All right. I suppose I’ll come.”

  And looked startled when they cheered in response.

  * * *

  Anna made herself a cup of chamomile tea and sat with her stash of chocolate and told herself she did not regret the decision not to join the others at the fireworks. It wasn’t as if she had any great fondness for fireworks. Neither, frankly, did Marcel and Emilia. She didn’t know why they had suddenly decided to go—why everyone on the street was suddenly deciding to do everything together. Pen Cheever from down the street walked to her house with that street dog and waved happily to Anna in the window like they were friends, when they had barely ever spoken.

  Anna found herself reading the same sentence over and over, and tossed the book away from her in disgust. It was ridiculous to be this fixated over an event she hadn’t wanted to attend in the first place. What had she wanted instead? For everyone to stay at home with her?

  In the distance, fireworks began to thump and thunder. Anna checked her watch. It was far too soon for the firework display Marcel and Emilia were attending. She had hours yet to be alone. And she should have been rejoicing. It was blessedly quiet in the house, and she had her cats and her chocolate and her tea. What more could she want?

  Anna looked out the window at the street, where all was quiet. Not even the street dog wandering about. Anna didn’t realize until that moment how accustomed she’d become to the sight of that dog.

  The fireworks kept pounding away somewhere. Anna checked her watch again, wondering anew if it could be the display Marcel and Emilia had gone off to. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to just step outside to see if she could see the firework display. It wasn’t the best night for it, but one never knew.

  Anna went to the front door and opened it . . . and that was when Socks streaked outside.

  And as she shouted after him, “Socks!” Tabby followed close behind.

  * * *

  Pen was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her laptop cradled on her lap, staring at the latest article she was working on, which was about current trends in wine.

  “Do you know anything about terroir?” she asked Jack. She’d already asked the question of Chester, who, as usual, refused to share any vast knowledge he might have with her.

  Jack didn’t seem much more forthcoming. He looked at her and whined, tail wagging forlornly, and then walked over to the door and glanced back at her hopefully.

  Pen shook her head. “Nope. No outside for you tonight. I read up on this, and during Bonfire Night you’re supposed
to keep dogs inside so they don’t get too upset. And you might be a very special dog but you are included in the category of ‘dog.’ So even if you do want to update yourself on the current position of all street squirrels, you must stay inside for the night.”

  Jack looked unconvinced. He paced around the living room, plainly very unhappy with her.

  In the distance, Pen could hear fireworks start up, which explained why Jack was so unsettled. She glanced at her watch. Early for any of the official firework displays to have started but probably some private parties getting impatient for the main event.

  “They’re fireworks,” Pen informed Jack, who tipped his ears in her direction as if paying close attention to her. “Just a lot of noise and color, nothing to worry about. Actually, you can’t see color, can you? No wonder dogs hate them so much. To you they’re just a load of noise, aren’t they? But don’t worry. It’s just a matter of . . . celebrating something that frankly nobody cares about anymore. So really, it’s just an excuse for us all to make a lot of noise, I guess.”

  Jack cocked his head to the side.

  Pen are shrugged. “People are odd. What can I say?”

  Jack made a huffing sound and walked over to the front window and stood up on his paws to look outside.

  Pen watched him for a moment, but he seemed a bit calmer, so she turned back to her laptop. Which of these whites is all “white” with you? her article read currently. Pen rolled her eyes at herself and opened her blog instead and started drafting an entry.

  Hope everyone is having a lovely Bonfire Night! I am currently sitting here with Street Dog Jack, as I volunteered to stay home this year and soothe him about the fireworks. I’m not sure I’m doing such a good job soothing him, I confess. Having a difficult time explaining the point of fireworks other than to make a lot of noise, which Jack does not agree with! Anyway, everyone else on the street has gone off to view fireworks, including Old Man. The only one who stayed behind was Polish Woman, even though her husband and daughter both went. Again, don’t know what—

  Jack started whining again, and his tail began to beat back and forth more furiously.

  “What is it?” Pen asked.

  Jack turned in an anxious little circle, still whining.

  “Jack, it’s just fireworks,” Pen assured him, but he seemed anxious enough that she stood and went over to the window and peered out. The street seemed quiet as far as she could tell.

  Jack obviously disagreed with her assessment. He suddenly began barking furiously and practically flinging himself at the door in his eagerness to get out.

  And Pen knew that she was supposed to keep Jack indoors to keep him calm, but in the heat of the moment, in the face of Jack’s frantic barking, she opened the door without thinking, and Jack immediately shot out of it, into the street beyond.

  * * *

  “So, young American,” Max said to Teddy as they walked to the park. “Are you bewildered by our Bonfire Night tradition?”

  “Miss Quinn told us all about it,” Teddy said. “It’s basically like the Fourth of July only with more blowing people up.”

  “Well, actually, no one ended up blown up,” said Arthur.

  “Which is why we celebrate,” added Pari.

  “You know, the Fourth of July wasn’t exactly a gunpowder-free zone,” remarked Max.

  “I think it’s a strange reason for a celebration,” said Darsh. “And at a miserable time of year.”

  “That I don’t disagree with,” Max responded. “The Americans had the right idea, plotting their treason in the summertime. Now, who’s Miss Quinn? Your teacher?”

  Teddy nodded. “She’s basically the best teacher in the entire universe.”

  “She’s behind the Christmas play involving environmental insurance?” asked Max. “Arthur approves of her.”

  “So does my dad. If he ever gets his act together.” Teddy glared at him.

  Sam became aware of all eyes turning to him and hoped it was dark enough outside to cover his blush.

  “Oho,” said Max happily. “Is this romantic intrigue I sense?”

  “No,” said Sam. “No romantic intrigue.”

  “Only because my dad is hopeless,” said Teddy. “Isn’t my dad hopeless, Mrs. Basak?”

  “Absolutely hopeless,” Diya agreed frankly.

  “Thanks, everyone,” said Sam drily. “Your support really means a lot to me.”

  “Aw, don’t take it personally,” said Max, and flung a casual arm over Arthur’s shoulders. “This one here was also hopeless. You only have to be a little less than hopeless for a little while. It can be done.”

  Arthur rolled his eyes.

  Max said, “What do you think, Bill? I’m sure you were rather the flash one in your day. Wooing with woodwork and all that.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” grumbled Mr. Hammersley. “That wasn’t what it was.”

  “He made his wife all these little wooden flowers and stuff,” Teddy said. “He showed me.”

  Mr. Hammersley basically spluttered in response to that.

  Diya said, “Maybe you can make one of those wooden flowers for Sam. He needs all the help he can get.”

  “I really don’t,” said Sam. “I’ve got everything under control.”

  “How do you know all about this romantic intrigue, Diya?” asked Max. “You’ve been holding out on me. We should have tea more often.”

  “We chaperoned the same field trip,” Diya answered. “He spent the entire time starring over her.”

  ‘Starring?” echoed Max.

  “Mooning,” Arthur suggested.

  “Yes.” Diya nodded energetically. “That’s it. Mooning.”

  “Look,” said Sam, “I am just waiting for the right moment.”

  “Oh, good,” said Teddy. “Because there’s Miss Quinn right over there.”

  Sam looked. They were near the park now, close to where they were going to have to pay admission to get in, and there indeed, across a teeming sea of people, was Miss Quinn, her dark red hair trapped under a bright green woolen hat with a silly pom-pom on top, and even in a silly bobble hat, on a misty evening when everything else was muted around the edges, Miss Quinn shone bright and clear as a beacon. She was laughing, and Sam could almost fancy he heard that laugh, above all of the more earthly conversations that more boring people were having around him.

  “Which one?” Max asked.

  “The one wearing the green hat with the pom-pom on it,” answered Teddy.

  “Oh, well done, Sam,” Max said. “She’s lovely. Go and chat her up.”

  “I’m sure she’s here with friends,” Sam said, not because he was nervous but because yes, obviously she was there with friends—that’s who she was talking to. “I don’t want to interrupt her evening with—”

  Which was exactly when Miss Quinn happened to look up and catch Sam blatantly staring at her from across the grass. Sam had no time to pretend that he hadn’t been staring. He also had no ability not to stare. He didn’t understand how everyone in the vicinity wasn’t admiring Miss Quinn, wasn’t feeling her gravitational pull the way he was.

  Miss Quinn didn’t look alarmed to find him staring. She smiled at him and lifted her hand in a wave.

  “Off you go, then,” said Max. “We’ll watch your child for you.”

  Sam tore his eyes away from Miss Quinn, looking at the knot of people all around him, at Teddy. “You’re sure?” He wasn’t sure whom he was asking. Possibly he was asking everyone.

  But it was Teddy whose response he watched for. Teddy nodded and smiled and said, “Yes, Dad. I’m sure. Have fun.”

  “Be safe,” said Max, managing to add a cheerful inflection to it.

  Sam gave him a look and brushed a kiss over the hat covering Teddy’s head. “I’ll catch up with you later. You know my mobile number, right?”

  Teddy nodded. “Go on,” he said. “Before she thinks you’re not interested again or something.”

  Sam nodded and waved to the rest of
the group and told himself he definitely wasn’t nervous, as he headed over to where Miss Quinn looked as if she was waiting for him.

  He wasn’t nervous, but Pari shouting out to him, “Don’t eat anything that will make your breath gross, in case there’s snogging later!” didn’t really help his situation.

  * * *

  Pen went running into the night after Jack and nearly ran straight into Anna, also running down the street.

  “Oh,” Pen said, surprised. “Are you also chasing Jack?”

  “Jack? No, I’m chasing my cats. Socks! Tabby! Come back! Oh, my God, that horrible dog is going to attack my cats!”

  Pen glanced down the street, confused by what was going on, and then noticed that there were indeed two cats also streaking down the street, Jack in hot pursuit. “I’m sure he won’t,” Pen said, but she wasn’t really sure about that. She didn’t know how Jack was going to behave toward cats.

  A car came around the corner, the headlights throwing the tableau of animals into dramatic sharp relief. The cats, apparently disoriented by the sudden flash of light, stopped running and huddled together, on the edge of the pavement, looking warily back to Jack. Jack also skidded his way to a stop. All the animals stared at each other in a tense showdown, before Jack took a cautious step forward, sniffing.

  “Don’t you dare touch my cats!” Anna shouted, still chasing after them.

  Jack looked up, as if confused.

  Pen said, “I don’t think he’s going to bother the cats.”

  And then, as another car came around the corner, Jack did the exact opposite of bothering the cats: he stepped out into the street, placing himself between the cats and the potential deadly weapon. The cats, startled, had no choice but to dart directly at Anna if they wanted to avoid Jack.

  Anna caught both of them up in her arms and gave Jack a wary look, as Pen caught up to them.

  “Good boy, Jack,” she said enthusiastically, and Jack bounded over to be given a scratch behind the ears. “You managed to make sure the cats didn’t dart out into the street in front of the car!”