Ninepins

by Rosy Thorton

  ‘Alfie? Has he had an accident?’ Alfie was always falling off things and crashing into things.

  ‘No, nothing like that. But they’ve got him under observation and it looks like he’s going to need an operation. He’s been having abdominal pain, and today it was a lot worse, suddenly. We came in this morning – been here all day. They’ve done dozens of tests. They’ve decided it’s a problem with his kidneys.’

  ‘Oh, God. That doesn’t sound good. Poor Alfie. How’s he coping with it? Is he in a lot of distress?’

  ‘Well, they’ve been very good here. Marvellous, in fact. Everyone who’s seen him has been great about explaining things, talking him through it. Even making him laugh. And they’ve got him on painkillers, on a drip, so at least that’s under control. He’s mainly just drowsy, now.’

  ‘Poor Alfie,’ she said again. ‘So, what is it I can do for you? Is it Jack and Roly? I’d be happy to take them if you and Tessa need to stay with Alfie overnight.’

  Happy was hardly the word. The boisterous four- and two-year-old, exhausting enough at the best of times, and then displaced, upset and missing their parents and brother: it would be, to be honest, a nightmare. But Beth loved the little boys; she would help. And she could scarcely do less for Simon.

  ‘No, that’s OK. They’re here with us. Tessa picked them up from nursery at three. We all want to be here with Alfie. Be together, you know.’

  ‘There in the ward?’ She pictured the chaos: the bored, rampaging toddlers, the beleaguered nurses.

  ‘They’ve moved him to a little side room by himself now, so it’s no problem. We’ve brought in a folding camp bed for the night, so Jack and Roly can share that. They do have some family rooms, actually, for parents staying over, but they’re way over the other side of the site, and have no space for kids. We all want to be near Alfie. Tessa and I can sleep on the floor.’

  ‘And they’re OK about it?’

  ‘Seem to be. With a little persuasion.’

  Simon, no doubt giving the nurses his wounded puppy act.

  ‘So then, what’s this favour? Do you need some things bringing over?’

  ‘Actually, Laura, I need someone to have Dougie.’

  Dougie? For a second, her mind was a blank. Then she remembered. ‘The dog?’

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t ask. But he’s been on his own since this morning – except when Tessa dashed in and fed him after nursery when she picked up the overnight stuff for us and the boys. I really can’t think who else could take him. And they said absolutely not, we’re not allowed to have him here.’

  Laura actually found herself wincing. ‘Simon. You didn’t seriously ask if you could have a dog in the hospital?’

  ‘Worth a try.’ She could almost see him grinning.

  ‘Well, yes. Of course I’ll have him. But you know I know nothing about dogs. Is there food for him? And how much, and when? And where will I find it, and his lead and dog bowls and whatever it is he sleeps in? I shall need some instructions.’

  ‘Come here to the hospital. Children’s surgical, G3. I can give you the house key and tell you what you need to know.’

  ‘OK.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll be straight over.’

  ‘And bring Beth. Dougie loves Beth.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Oh, and Laura?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  It was late to be taking Beth out on a school night, urging her out of her pyjamas and into jeans and a jumper and coat. Not that she needed much persuasion. The excitement of the excursion and the hospital was allure enough – even without the dog.

  ‘Dougie! We’re actually going to have Dougie here living with us.’

  ‘I don’t know about living, exactly. It’s only for a little while, until Alfie is better and can go home.’

  ‘How long? A week? Can we have him a whole week?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Now, get your gloves and scarf on. It’s freezing out there.’

  As they were putting on their shoes, Willow appeared, also coated and gloved. ‘Can I come?’

  ‘Why not?’ She might be grateful for any help on offer.

  It was an odd sort of mercy dash, driving with slow circumspection on the icy lanes, and worrying about the mysteries of canine care when she should have been thinking about Alfie and his operation.

  ‘Does he have that dry food?’ she asked, scanning her daughter’s face in the mirror.

  ‘Oh, he’ll eat anything. Vegetable lasagne’s his favourite. And he just sleeps on people’s beds.’

  Oh, God. Simon had never been much of a one for boundaries.

  ‘Can he sleep with me, Mum? Pleeease.’

  ‘What about your asthma? I’m not sure pet hair is – ’

  ‘ ’S’OK, Dougie’s no problem. He always sleeps on my bed at Dad’s.’

  It was eleven thirty by the time they arrived at the hospital, after midnight before they reached Simon’s house. All the other residents were already home and in bed or watching TV, and finding a parking spot was a struggle. Eventually, they squeezed into a half-space two streets away.

  ‘Right, then. Let’s go and find the hound.’

  It never seemed quite so cold in Cambridge as out in the fens, but her fingers still tingled when she took off her gloves to fit the Yale in the lock. No excited barking greeted the sound of their entry, as it had on recent occasions when she had picked up Beth; no small flurry of hair and tongue launched itself at their ankles. The hall was silent and apparently deserted. Beth switched on the light – though not before Laura and Willow had both tangled painfully with a metal tricycle.

  ‘Dou-gie,’ Beth called out. ‘It’s only us. Where are you, Doug?’

  They tried the sitting room, where Beth said he favoured the corner armchair, and the playroom at the back, where there were Duplo bricks to chew, both without success. That left the kitchen.

  ‘Dou-gie,’ sang Laura, without much conviction. ‘Here, boy.’

  The room bore evidence of Tessa having flung in and out again in a hurry with Jack and Roly on her way back to the hospital – though it was equally possible that the clutter on the table and floor was no more than the usual state of things. Laura picked up a carton of milk and put it back in the fridge. If it hadn’t been late, and school in the morning, she might have done some washing up.

  ‘Can’t see him anywhere,’ she said. ‘Might he be upstairs?’

  At least she could see the bag of dog food, and the two tin bowls, as Simon had described. And on the window ledge – she shuddered – the ‘poop scoop’ and bags. At Ninepins he’d be out in the fields and they wouldn’t have to bother with that.

  Beth had run upstairs, followed by Willow; she could be heard moving from room to room, banging doors, calling Dougie’s name. Presently, she clattered back down.

  ‘We can’t find him. Oh, Mum, you don’t think he’s run away or something, do you?’

  Laura’s heart sank. What if he really wasn’t here? What if Tessa, in her hurry, had accidentally let him slip out of the door? Her mind conjured visions of a small hours neighbourhood search, of the police and the RSPCA. Not to mention the phone call to Simon.

  Just when she was steeling herself for the worst, she heard a sound from down by her feet. Disturbingly human: a soft, plaintive whimper. She squatted down on her haunches and peered beneath a deep-set shelving unit stacked with basins and saucepans – and into a pair of inscrutable amber eyes.

  ‘Hello there, lad,’ she said, in her best jollying tones. ‘We’re not going to hurt you. We’ve come to take you for walkies.’

  Dougie stared back at her, unblinking. He did not move.

  Kneeling down beside her, Beth began to croon. ‘Dou-gie. Come on out, boy. Waaa-lkies.’

  But there was no movement. Very cautiously, Laura began to extend a hand towards the darkness beneath the shelves – and quickly retracted it, as the yellow eyes narrowed and an ominous, low grumbling noise arose.

 
; Beth clambered to her feet. ‘Food. He always comes for food. Let’s see what there is.’ She opened the fridge door. ‘What d’you think? Cheese? But it’s that sliced kind in the plastic, like in MacDonald’s. Or, hang on, here’s some sausages left over, on a plate. Ugh – they’re all white and furry at one end. Would they poison him, d’you reckon?’

  ‘I expect he’s had worse.’ There was Alfie’s football, for a start.

  ‘Here, Dougie. What’s this?’ Beth was back on all fours, dangling a cold sausage towards the void.

  Suddenly there was a scrabble of claws and a rush of hair and teeth and Dougie rocketed out and across the kitchen, emitting a siren wail. Leaving them rooted, he shot through the door and out into the hall and freedom.

  ‘Little devil,’ said Laura. ‘How on earth are we going to get hold of him?’

  ‘Don’t be horrible. Poor Dougie – he’s scared.’ But Beth, Laura could tell, was also enjoying herself royally. She pointed her sausage towards the hallway. ‘Come on.’

  More quietly this time, in order to avoid setting their quarry to flight again, they retraced their earlier steps through the downstairs rooms. It was a laborious operation, since it involved crawling on hands and knees among the questionable dust and debris of Simon and Tessa’s floors and peering under bookcases and behind settees.

  ‘Not here,’ decreed Laura eventually. ‘Better try the bedrooms again, I suppose.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘Where’s Willow?’

  Beth shrugged. Their eyes met.

  ‘Upstairs.’

  They mounted them together, side by side. When they reached the top, there was Willow at the end of the landing, sitting cross-legged in the far corner. She didn’t even glance up at their approach, but remained completely motionless, head bowed low so that only her fringe and the tip of her nose were visible. And on her lap, curled as serenely as if he had been asleep there all evening, was Dougie.

  In a spirit of rapprochement following the shoplifting incident, Laura allowed Beth to come home by herself on the bus twice a week. It might seem paradoxical, but instinctively Laura judged it to be the right move, an extension of trust to inspire the deserving of it.

  On Wednesday afternoon, therefore, as she drew near home, she was met by Beth and Dougie, walking towards her along the drove. She was earlier than usual, and the clear, frost-bright skies which had been with them all week served to emphasise the lengthening of the days. Almost five o’clock, and she could make them out clearly against the pale ribbon of the road. They approached in a drunken zigzag, the small terrier scurrying to one side and then the other at the limit of his lead, nose to the ground and tail aloft, dragging Beth behind. Laura slowed the car and wound down her window, letting in a shock of icy air.

  ‘Dougie’s sniffing for rabbits,’ Beth called out as soon as they were within hailing distance. ‘I’m sure he is. He doesn’t do this at Dad’s.’

  Rats, more likely, thought Laura, along here by the dyke. ‘Have you brought a torch?’ she asked, when Beth came up. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

  ‘Oh, we’re not going far. He already had a walk when I first got in. Me and Willow took him over the fields. This is just an extra.’

  Meeting me? Laura smiled. ‘Hang on, then. I’ll just go and park the car and then I’ll walk back along and join you.’

  The thermometer was falling with the dusk. Laura’s legs felt naked in the tights she’d worn for work; the cold air sliced straight through them. It really would be a short one: catch up with Beth and then straight back home.

  They seemed to have stopped, though. In the lowering light, she could make out her daughter’s stationary figure, hunched in her coat with collar up and hands in pockets. The grey dog merged to invisibility with the grass of the verge.

  ‘Come on, Beth,’ she muttered to herself as she walked towards them. ‘Get a move on, and let’s get inside.’

  ‘I think he’s found one!’ Beth’s shout was still from a distance, but Laura could see her face, turned towards her and glowing. ‘He’s found a rabbit.’

  Coming closer, she saw that Dougie’s head was indeed hidden in the earth, plunged deep in some hole or burrow; only his rear end was above ground, and wagging furiously.

  ‘Oh dear, but you don’t think he’ll actually catch it, do you, Mum? He might kill it. Oh, he won’t kill the rabbit, will he?’

  Quite possibly, thought Laura. He had terrier in him, after all. ‘I hope not. Let’s try to get him away from the hole.’

  Taking hold of the lead, her hand round Beth’s, she began to tug hopefully. ‘Come along, silly dog. Come away from there.’

  Dougie pulled back, harder, and began to growl under his breath in the determined manner of one not to be deflected.

  ‘Dougie,’ pleaded Beth, as she lent her weight to the tussle, ‘please stop that. Leave the poor bunny alone.’

  It was surprising that so small an animal should be so strong. The two of them hauled on his lead, leaning hard to the task, but they couldn’t budge him. Until suddenly, like something straight out of Laurel and Hardy, the resistance ceased and they staggered backwards across the tarmac, clutching each other for support. Dougie went sharply into reverse and then swung round towards them, triumphant, with something dangling between his teeth.

  ‘Nooo,’ wailed Beth, burying her face in Laura’s shoulder. ‘He’s killed the rabbit!’

  Laura advanced towards the dog, not at all sure she wanted to look, either. But she should; she must, in case by some miracle the rabbit was still alive.

  ‘Drop it,’ she commanded, and to her amazement he did.

  The rabbit lay where it fell. Even in the gathering darkness, she could see the stained fur, and an eye, glassy and staring. There was no movement at all. But maybe it was only stunned? She took another step forward and peered down at the lifeless form – and then she laughed out loud. No wonder Dougie was gazing up at her, tail beating, with the expression of a magician who has just produced his best trick. Not, in this case, a rabbit, but a child’s teddy bear.

  ‘How could it have got there?’ Beth wanted to know as they set off for home.

  Laura had only guesses. ‘Dropped from a car, perhaps, on the main road? And then maybe an animal picked it up – a fox? Or it was washed there by the flood?’

  Dougie was trotting ahead of them, in a straight line now, with his trophy in his mouth.

  ‘Clever boy,’ said Beth. Then, after a moment, ‘By the way, Dad rang.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘He’s home now.’

  ‘Alfie’s out of hospital?’

  ‘No, Dad. He’s gone home with Jack and Roly, but Tessa’s still at the hospital with Alfie. They’re keeping him in a few more days, Dad says.’

  ‘Right.’ She must call Simon. She knew the operation had gone well and Alfie was recovering nicely, but she should ring for another bulletin.

  ‘Anyway, Dad’s still going backwards and forwards a lot, he says. So he says, could we keep Dougie another week? Can we, Mum, please?’

  Laura looked ahead at the dog with his bear, then across at her daughter, and smiled. ‘I don’t see why not.’

  Beth drew closer and squeezed her hand beneath her mother’s arm. ‘Brilliant.’

  It seemed like an opportunity to ask, ‘Was Rianna on the bus today?’ Do you still hang out with them – with her and Caitlin?

  The hand stayed put but Laura sensed a withdrawal, nonetheless. Hostility? Or merely awkwardness?

  ‘Mm.’

  Don’t pick at it; that’s what she would have told Beth. Leave well alone. But something impelled Laura to talk about it, confront it. Tensions unvoiced were always worse, spreading beneath the surface like a bruise.

  ‘Did you sit with her, as far as Longfenton?’

  A shake of the head.

  ‘No?’

  ‘She was with some Year 8s.’

  Laura nodded. For a minute they walked on without speaking, while she considered her next approach.

>   ‘And how are things, at school? OK?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Of course it was a dead end. The wrong moment, the wrong questions: she always got it wrong. Better to put back the lid, to close the box back up.

  ‘So, what do you think he’s planning to do with it? Dougie, I mean, and his teddy? Take it to bed with him?’

  ‘Eat it, more likely,’ said Beth, her voice eager with relief. ‘He eats everything. At Dad’s once, he ate nearly the whole of a papier mâché snowman that Jack had made at nursery. Tessa said he pooed solid newspaper the next morning when she took him for his walk. She said you could still read bits, but I think she was messing about.’

  Just as they were coming near the front door, though, in the midst of her chatter about the dog, she casually said, ‘I might have Alice over. On Friday after school, if that’s OK? We want to practice this thing we’re doing for drama, and walk Dougie, and then she could stay for supper.’

  Laura didn’t react, beyond a brief nod; she kept her satisfaction to herself.

  ‘And can we have macaroni cheese?’

  The Sunday outing was Vince’s idea. His original suggestion had taken Laura by surprise, because she had come to think of him as a townie.

  ‘Let’s go skating. There’s a place where everyone goes, up near Downham Market, on Salter’s Lode.’

  ‘But we don’t have skates.’

  ‘I do. And I could borrow some for the rest of you easily enough.’

  She had forgotten he was raised in Wisbech, making him really more of a fensperson than she was herself.

  ‘We used to go when I was a kid. Never Mum, but me and Dad and my uncle and cousins.’

  ‘At Downham?’

  ‘No. Not on the lodes at all – it wasn’t cold enough, most years. You need at least a week’s good, solid freeze to make them safe enough. But there were some fields near us which always flooded in the winter, along the side of the Nene. The water was shallow, only a foot or so, so it was always safe to skate.’

  It was the first time she’d heard him so enthused.

  ‘The whole town used to turn out. All the boys from school would be there, staging races. Seemed like everybody had skates, and if they didn’t they came anyway and just slithered about. Some brought toboggans. There’d be dogs pulling people along, and little kids sliding in just in their wellies.’