by Murphy, Jill
‘I’ll be all right,’ explained Alfie. ‘My dinner always comes in a tin.’
Sunset and Fixit exchanged hopeless glances.
‘There aren’t many tins in the middle of Hawkland Heath,’ said Sunset.
‘No tin-openers either,’ agreed Fixit. ‘Come on, lad. Out you come and stretch your legs.’
Alfie crawled from under his bush and stood up. Both foxes gazed up in amazement. He was at least twice as tall as they were.
All three animals had a good sniff of each other. ‘You smell really nice,’ said Alfie shyly. ‘Sort of pungent and putrid.’
‘Thanks,’ said Sunset. ‘We like it.’
‘You can roll in this messy bit outside our door,’ offered Fixit. ‘Then we’ll all smell the same.’
‘Gosh, thanks!’ said Alfie, throwing himself, shoulder first, on to the ground.
Sunset and Fixit smiled at each other as they watched their strange guest rolling from side to side, waving his endless legs in the air. They gave him a thorough sniffing when he finally stood up again.
‘Great!’ said Sunset. ‘Now you smell just like a fox.’
‘Excellent!’ agreed Fixit. ‘Let’s go and see what we can find for breakfast. The café’s a good place to try after a storm. The bins will be all over the place – saves us the trouble of knocking them over.’
The scene at the café was better than they could have hoped for. All three of the bins had been blown on to their sides, spilling out drenched sandwich crusts, half-eaten burgers and waterlogged chips. Alfie was thrilled to find a whole cheese-and-ham sandwich and half a cheese scone.
‘This is great!’ he woofed happily, his spirits lifting for the first time since the horror of the fence.
‘There’s a whole load of sausages in this one!’ called Sunset gleefully, half hidden inside the bin.
Suddenly there was a series of short sharp yaps from Fixit. ‘Quick! Out! Someone’s coming!’ he warned.
They were through the open gate and into the undergrowth just as car headlights swept like prison searchlights across the strewn litter and upturned tables. The morning was so gloomy that the car needed lights to make its way across the tree-lined heath road. The car stopped and the café owners, Ken and Rosemary, climbed out.
‘What a mess,’ said Ken. ‘We’d better get stuck in before any customers arrive.’
‘I shouldn’t think there’ll be many customers today!’ laughed Rosemary. ‘You’d have to be mad to go for a walk on the heath after a night like that – oh, look, there are people coming up the track! I’d better go and open up in case they’re needing a cup of tea.’
The customers were Charlie and his mum, who had teamed up with Rita and Jenny. True to their word, Jenny and Rita had been up with the watery sun, calling Alfie’s name against the dawn chorus and dying wind in the creaking, clattering branches. Charlie and his mum had arrived to join them, armed with bundles of posters showing Alfie, brushed and smart, sitting on a sofa looking rather elegant.
Charlie was wearing his trainers with lights in the heels to brighten the gloomy morning and also, as he explained to Rita and Jenny, so that Alfie could see them if he was in the bushes somewhere.
They had worked steadily for an hour, tacking posters to trees and calling Alfie’s name, before deciding to check out the little café in the very centre of the heath.
‘I hope it’s open,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘It’s only nine thirty and they might not be open at all after such a dreadful storm.’
‘Yes, they are, Mum!’ said Charlie. ‘I can see them through the trees – look!’
Ken and Rosemary were only too happy to put up a poster and promised to keep an eye out for the missing deerhound. They were so kind and friendly that the band of Alfie-hunters decided to stop for breakfast. Charlie’s mum could tell how miserable he was because he couldn’t eat anything at all, not even a biscuit from the plate of muffins and biscuits she had ordered to try to take his mind off things.
‘No thanks,’ he said politely as Jenny tried to tempt him with a chocolate-chip cookie. ‘Do you think we’re ever going to find him?’
Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said with heartfelt remorse. ‘I never thought any dog could jump a gate as high as that.’
Charlie’s mum patted Jenny’s shoulder. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘It’s no one’s fault. Let’s keep looking before it starts raining again. He’s got to be here somewhere.’
At that precise moment, Alfie was half a mile away, back under his bush, wishing that he hadn’t dropped the cheese scone when they had made their quick exit from the café.
Fixit and Sunset had gone into their den for a morning snooze.
‘What on earth are we going to do with him, dear?’ asked Sunset, resting her head on Fixit’s neck. ‘He’ll starve if he won’t hunt.’
‘Don’t ask me,’ replied Fixit. ‘He’s a liability, what with all the noise he makes and the size of him. I suppose we could take him to The Gondola later on, or perhaps we could share our dinner with him if we have a good night’s hunting.’
‘You’re so generous,’ said Sunset admiringly.
‘Not really,’ said Fixit, ‘but we’re sort of stuck with him at the moment and we can’t let the poor thing go hungry.’
Under his bush, Alfie had fallen asleep. The morning passed by and in his dreams he heard Charlie calling his name. ‘ALFIE! ALFIE! Here, boy! Here!’
It was so real that he woke with a start, ears doing the Full Rabbit. He changed ear position to Cornish Wind-blown Tree, first to the left, then to the right, but there was no sound except the rustling leaves, which descended in drifts from the trees above him. ‘It must have been a dream,’ he thought sadly, and drifted back to sleep.
Only a few bushes away, Charlie had been calling as loudly as he could. ‘ALFIE! ALFIE! Here, boy! Here!’ over and over.
‘That’s enough, darling,’ said his mum. ‘You’ll lose your voice in a minute. We’ll put up some more posters in the shops by the station and in that nice Italian restaurant, and then we ought to head off home for a while and have a bit of a rest. We can come back tomorrow and search over the other side of the wooded area while you’re at school.’
‘Oh, Mu-um!’ said Charlie. ‘I can’t go to school when Alfie’s still lost!’
‘Sorry, love,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘You can’t miss school whatever the reason. Anyway, we’ll have to get home now or you’ll never get up in the morning.’
‘I’ll keep looking until it gets dark,’ said Jenny.
‘Me too,’ said Rita.
‘OK, then,’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘Let’s meet up tomorrow – ring me if you find him!’
‘Of course,’ said Jenny, trying to sound optimistic, though her heart was in her muddy wellington boots.
‘What are we going to do with him?’ asked Sunset, snuggled up next to Fixit in the earthy darkness of their den.
‘Well, he can’t stay outside our door much longer,’ said Fixit grumpily, ‘that’s for sure.’
‘Perhaps we could dig an extra-large den next to ours and sort of adopt him,’ suggested Sunset. ‘He’s so helpless.’
‘I don’t think so, dear,’ said Fixit fondly. ‘A kind thought, but not very practical. Right now I’m a bit peckish – let’s go and see if it’s dark yet.’
Outside, Alfie had come out of his bush and was lying right next to their entrance. He was well camouflaged in the early evening gloom, lying very still among the tangled grey brambles and piles of dusty-looking leaves.
‘I haven’t moved for ages,’ he said proudly. ‘I’m practising being just like a fox.’
‘Just like a fox,’ agreed Sunset, licking his nose affectionately. ‘Well done, dear.’
‘Smells like a fox too,’ said Fixit, giving Alfie’s filthy coat an appreciative sniff.
‘What’s for dinner?’ asked Alfie. ‘I’m starving.’
They decided to head for the bins at the back of The
Gondola for an easy meal. Fixit and Sunset knew that the rubbish collection was next morning, so the bins would be perfect for a rummage. On the way, they taught Alfie how to slink along, keeping to the side of any open spaces, just a few steps at a time, stopping to check all around, then freezing if anything rustled, always taking a few quick steps at a time. Alfie’s radar-like ears were very helpful in the lookout process and he proudly showed his new friends Check Both Ways, where he could listen in front and behind at the same time; also, how he could hide behind a bush and bend his nose round a corner to sniff for anyone coming, like a nasal periscope.
‘You must admit he’s got some really useful tricks, Mr F,’ said Sunset, impressed.
‘True, my dear,’ said Fixit. ‘Pity he’s so huge, or he’d make quite a good honorary fox.’
They reached a place where the woodland stopped abruptly and an area of short grass led to the back of the parade of shops. There were a few clumps of bushes and a pond with some benches round it. A tarmac path led from an alley between the restaurant and the flower shop across the grass to some houses on the other side and you could see the bridge across the railway track leading to the far station platform. Streetlights along the edge of the path cast an orange glow over everything.
A train suddenly clattered through a deep cutting into the station just as the little group was skittering a few paces from a ragged elderflower bush to a low mass of brambles.
‘Don’t move!’ ordered Fixit. ‘Drop down, Alfie, and freeze. People often walk across this patch after a train. Don’t move till I say.’
They all kept completely still, Alfie flat on the grass with his ears over his eyes, trying not to panic as the noisy train rattled and hissed out of the station.
‘OK, team,’ said Fixit, ‘they’ve all gone. Good timing, actually. There won’t be another train for half an hour and the kitchen porter’s just been out and put a load of stuff in the bin, so he won’t be out for another hour. Come on – let’s go for it.’
The two huge bins at the back of The Gondola were even more bountiful than the ones at the tearoom. To Alfie’s utter joy all the leftovers were dredged with cheese – cheese pasta, cheese pizzas, even the meat leftovers were dusted with a dreamy coating of grated Parmesan. It was deerhound heaven. Alfie stood on his hind legs, knocked open the hinged lid and dragged out delicious lumps of garlic chicken and wodges of spaghetti, dropping them on to ground level for Fixit and Sunset.
‘He really is a help with these huge bins,’ said Fixit, gulping down as much as possible.
Within a few minutes, the top layer was dragged out and scattered on the ground or eaten. Alfie craned his neck to look in and saw an almost entire pepperoni pizza wedged further down. He scrabbled his front paws noisily over the side of the bin and stretched his neck until it almost dislocated, trying to reach the prized pizza.
‘Steady on, Alf,’ warned Sunset. ‘Too much noise!’
Too late. Alfie overbalanced and plunged head first into the bin, which fell over sideways with a deafening clatter.
‘Run!’ barked Fixit.
The two foxes shot across the clearing and into the woodland as Alfie, panicking, yelped and scrabbled, trying to turn round inside the bin, before backing out, spaghetti and pizza topping dangling from his head like a hat. He raced as fast as his trembling legs would carry him into the woodland and followed the scent of Sunset and Fixit back to their den, where he received a stern telling-off from his guardians.
At the back of The Gondola, Marco, the young kitchen porter who had come out to investigate, peered into the gloomy woodland beyond the clearing.
‘What was the noise?’ asked Lorenzo, one of the waiters, who had also come out to see what had made the commotion.
‘It was a dog,’ said Marco. ‘I caught a glimpse of it as it ran into the woods – a huge, grey dog – just like the one on the poster.’
When something awful has happened, one of the worst moments is waking from a deep exhausted sleep having forgotten – just for a brief instant – whatever it was that has ruined everything.
When morning and the awful moment came, Charlie crawled out of bed and came downstairs, sniffing and knuckling his eyes, trying really hard not to cry. His mum took one look at him and changed her mind about sending him to school.
After breakfast, Charlie’s mum found him in the front garden, hanging over the gate, staring down the road.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘I’m sending out thought waves,’ said Charlie, still staring into the distance, not turning to look at his mum. ‘They’re magic thought waves – a bit like radio waves – so he’ll know we’re still looking. We’ll find him, Mum. I don’t know how, but we will find him. I know it!’
Charlie’s mum felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, darling,’ she said, standing close behind him and wrapping him in her arms. ‘You know, there is a tiny chance that we won’t be able to find him.’
‘You mustn’t say that, Mum,’ said Charlie, trying to stop his voice from trembling. ‘You mustn’t even think it, or the thought waves won’t work.’
At that very moment, the telephone began to ring and they rushed inside to answer it.
‘This is Lorenzo Bertolli,’ said a voice with an Italian accent. ‘I’m phoning about the lost dog. Is this the right number?’
‘Yes!’ said Charlie’s mum.
‘We think we saw your dog last night,’ said Lorenzo. ‘Round the back of our restaurant, The Gondola – you know, by the station. You came and put up a poster yesterday.’
‘How fantastic!’ said Charlie’s mum, her heart dancing with hope. ‘Did you catch him?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Lorenzo, ‘but he’d had a very good meal from our bin, so at least he’s not going hungry! He’ll probably be back again tonight. Perhaps you’d like to come and keep watch.’
‘You bet we will!’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘Thank you so much for ringing.’
‘You see, Mum!’ said Charlie, dancing round the kitchen. ‘The thought waves are working already.’
‘They certainly seem to be!’ said Charlie’s mum. ‘We can spend the afternoon putting up more posters, then we can have spaghetti Bolognese at the restaurant and spend the rest of the evening lurking by the bins!’
That first evening in the restaurant was so very full of hope. Everyone had spent the day doing positive things. Jenny and Rita had put up posters and called for Alfie all around one side of the heath, while Charlie and his mum did the other side and checked the little café to see if anyone had noticed anything, which they hadn’t. Then they all met at The Gondola in the early evening for a well-deserved meal. It was the first time that Charlie had felt hungry since Alfie had been lost.
‘I just know he’s going to turn up tonight!’ he announced happily, hoovering in loops of spaghetti Bolognese. ‘He’s so clever he even knew where to get some cheese! Trust a deerhound to find the best restaurant in town for his dinner!’
Back at the foxes’ den, the strange trio was getting ready for their night’s hunting.
‘Can’t we just go back to that nice place with the cheesy bins?’ asked Alfie. ‘There’s sure to be some good stuff there.’
‘Not tonight,’ said Fixit. ‘The dustmen always collect on a Monday. Any leftovers would be right at the bottom of the bin and we can’t risk you falling in after yesterday’s disaster. Anyway, they’ll be on the lookout tonight, so we’ll have to give it a miss for a few days.’
‘But I’m not allowed to – you know – chase anything,’ explained Alfie desperately. ‘I promised on my honour and I might forget myself when I go home again. Supposing I got so used to hunting that I chased Florence! Supposing I ATE FLORENCE! Charlie would be so upset – so would Florence!’
‘No one’s expecting you to eat a cat for goodness’ sake,’ said Sunset, exasperated. ‘Only a rabbit – there’s loads of rabbits.’
‘I can’t hunt rabbits either,’ said Alfie, shocked. ‘The girl n
ext door’s got a rabbit called Blanche. I might get so used to hunting rabbits, that I jump over the fence and EAT BLANCHE and then everyone will go mad!’
‘Well, you’ll be lucky to find any leftovers tonight,’ said Fixit. ‘There’s nothing on Bin Day, so it’s hunt or go hungry.’
‘I’ll just stay here under my bush, then, if you don’t mind,’ said Alfie.
‘Suit yourself,’ said Sunset. ‘See you later.’
At the back of The Gondola, hidden behind the bins and crates, Rita and Jenny, Charlie and his mum sat perfectly still, eyes trained on the bushes and woodland, willing Alfie to appear like a grey ghost and make his way across the soft, orange-lit grass. Trains rattled in and out of the station, people walked down the pathway between the shops and the houses, a hedgehog came from beneath a bush and snuffled about in the half-light, but there was no other sign of animal life. Marco brought out the final bag of rubbish to put in the bin. The last train rattled into the station and the platform lights went out.
Disappointment settled on the shoulders of the band of searchers like a damp overcoat as they wished each other goodnight.
‘I really, really thought he’d come,’ said Charlie, bursting into tears as he and his mum climbed wearily into their car. ‘Oh, Mum. Where on earth can he be?’
Days turned into weeks. In the early days, several people rang to say that they had seen a dog like the one in the poster. One of them was an old lady who had a big house with a garden that backed on to the wood. She said that she had seen a huge, grey dog sneaking out of her garden very early one morning carrying half a loaf that she’d put out for the birds. Charlie and his mum rushed round to the old lady’s house and spent hours calling, but there was no sign of him.
