“Why, you bloodthirsty murderers! You were looking to kill that dog, weren’t you!” George realised he had escaped death only by the good fortune of metamorphosing in his sleep. “What gives you the right to take out your venom on poor, defenceless animals? Just because you don’t like dogs, Annabel, so you want to go and murder them! Who’s the vicious monster now? Eh?”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, George!” Annabel gave vent to all the frustration that her husband had caused her, depriving her of the solution to her nightmares. “That’s a stray dog. A public nuisance. We’re doing everyone a favour – the council put down stray dogs all the time.”
“How do you know he’s a stray? He was nuisance for you, no one else. That’s all the excuse you need to kill him? God help any other creature you don’t like!” George span round and slammed shut the rear doors of the Transit van. “Go on! Clear off!” he shouted at the driver. Then he turned to Smarmy Stephen. He was angry.
“You’d better go home too, Stephen. And don’t go poking around in my garage or my back garden again – with cricket bats, or so-called friends, or whatever!” George stormed off through the back garden and into the house. He couldn’t look at his wife.
George went upstairs, stripped off his hired outfit and took a shower. Standing under the stream of water helped cool his temper and allowed him to think. He made his mind up. Decisions were taken. Things had to change and he wasn’t going to continue living the farce his marriage had become for any longer. George towelled himself off, changed and, with the dress uniform now folded and packed up, he went downstairs for breakfast and to confront his wife.
“Annabel, I’ve got to go into Durham this morning to take this outfit back where I got it from, and after that I’ll go see the lawyers. You and I will get a divorce.”
Annabel did her best to imitate a volcano erupting but it didn’t fool George in the slightest.
“Come off it, Annabel! You know that’s what you want. You can then go and move in with Smarmy Stephen – you’re in there more often than here these days, so I’m told. Then I’ll put this house up for sale. Come to think of it, after the lawyers, I’ll go visit the estate agents and have them come and value the place. It should fetch quite a tidy sum after all these years.”
Volcano simulations were redoubled with the use of various cushions and soft furnishings playing the role of molten lava flying to all parts.
“Very impressive, Annabel. You’re just annoyed that I’ve made the decision and not you. Whilst I’m out, do make a start in packing things up and moving what you want to Stephen’s house. Take anything and everything you want, except for what’s in my study. Oh – and just in case of any reluctance on your part to move out, I’ll go looking for that dog to bring back with me to live here. He and I will be sure to get on well together in your absence.”
This was pure bluff on his part, as George well knew, but his last attempt at such poker play had come off rather well so he thought he’d try it again. Annabel meanwhile had graduated from pyroclastic displays to major tectonic earth movements. George reckoned it was time for a quick exit. Breakfast, he thought, would be a trifle difficult to organise in the sulphurous atmosphere he had just helped create so he’d go without and eat in town somewhere. He turned to leave the house and to leave Annabel to do whatever she damn well wanted to do – hoping that it was not to bury a carving knife between his shoulder blades as he reached for the back door. That would make driving into town a little difficult.
George made it to the back gate without mishap. He quickly went through and shut it behind him – and then found himself doing a little jig in the lane outside his garage. He’d done it! Liberation at last! After over twenty years of marriage there would no doubt be all sorts of legal hoops to jump through to finally secure the divorce and, knowing Annabel, she would fight to get as much out of him as possible. It would probably cost him more than a pound of flesh to rid himself of her – but he didn’t care now. The decision had been made.
George was whistling as he opened the garage door, backed out his Land Rover and prepared to depart for Durham. Maybe he’d give the girls a ring and drop in to see them when he’d finished business in town. He felt he owed Carol an apology for doggifying in front of her last night. He still felt guilty about that.
George climbed down from his motor, shut and locked the garage door, then got back up behind the wheel and put the Land Rover into gear. Maybe he’d offer to take Rosie for run? Maybe he’d take his motor off-road somewhere? Maybe he’d disappear into the wild blue yonder and never come back? Anything and everything was possible now. George put his foot down and drove off. He was a happy man.
It was a couple of hours later when the Land Rover drew up outside the girls’ house. He parked behind a long grey Volvo, Duncan’s car. George hadn’t phoned; his head was too full of the information and the ideas his recent meetings had given him. It turned out that the divorce was not going to be so difficult after all – with no kids, both employed with not dissimilar incomes and George likely to have more evidence to show he was the aggrieved party; it ought not to involve a long-drawn-out fight for freedom. George reckoned that when Annabel calmed down she would readily agree to end it all, providing she would get at least half the value of the house. He’d go along with that just to get rid of her.
George rang the bell on the girls’ front door; he was still whistling happily to himself, full of the joys of this late spring. No answer. He rang again. There was still no answer so he bent down and hollered through the letter box: “Anyone in?”
A window opened suddenly above him and the naked half of Duncan appeared, his hair dishevelled and sticking out at all angles.
“Hello there, Duncan,” George called up cheerily. “And how’s life treating you this fine morning?”
The head went back in and called out to someone behind: “It’s George!” Then he leaned out again and looked down. “Och, man, life will be treating me a whole lot better when I get this wild cat off my back!”
There was a screech behind and a pillow was pounded on the Scotsman’s head, rearranging his hairstyle again. Duncan withdrew. There was then a certain amount of scrabbling that could be heard and finally Sally’s top half emerged wrapped in a towel. She tried to speak but was clearly battling to stay in one place by the window. Then her towel disappeared and Sally squawked, disappearing rapidly after it. A moment’s delay and her head, only her head, showed above.
“Hello, George,” she cried out, “I can’t let you in just yet but if you’re looking for Carol, she went out with Rosie twenty minutes ago…”
“Any idea where?”
“Yes…” came a strangled reply. “If you drive up to the end of the next road…Gerroff!…and then hop across the pedestrian footbridge over the railway…there’s the footpath there where you ought to be able to cut her off…” Sally’s head was pulled away and Duncan’s reappeared.
“Good luck, mon. Give her one for me!”
“Thank you, Duncan. I’ll endeavour to do that.” George could see that any further conversation was not likely to be fruitful. He left them to it.
George clambered up the steps of the footbridge and followed it across to green fields that spread out on the other side. A footpath ran away from him, leading into a patch of woodland some distance away. He could see no one as yet so he picked up his pace across the grass, taking care not to get himself too muddy in the process. He looked across the field. This one and the next seemed to contain four or five horses. Nothing else; no dog walkers as yet.
George was wondering how he would find Carol and what he was going to say to her when he did, and then Rosie came catapulting towards him from out of the woods. George stopped and let her jump and run all round him. She was clearly happy to see him and so was George to meet her. He was a little nervous about seeing her owner, however.
“Hello, George. Back with us again?” Carol looked at him coolly.
“Yes. I wanted to come
and see you.”
“How long for this time?”
George blushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t do it on purpose. It just sort of happens…”
Carol stopped in front of him. She was still upset. “Don’t tell me that, George. You must have some kind of idea of what you are doing. Isn’t it about time you sorted yourself out?”
“Yes. You’re right. That’s what I wanted to see you for.” George looked at her. She was wearing her tracksuit again, just the same as the first time he’d seen her and she was just as delicious. But the atmosphere between them this time was completely different. Her lively teasing of him and his whole lifestyle could not continue any longer. The canine transformations had been fun at first but she had wanted more from him last night and he’d turned away from her again rather than respond. That hurt. Things couldn’t go on like this.
“Well…you’re seeing me now.” The tone of voice was flat. Her green eyes were looking at him, expressionless, waiting. Carol was not giving an inch.
For a moment, George didn’t know what to say. There was an awkward silence. Then he gave a grin. She had always had a profoundly unsettling effect upon him that stirred up his feelings no end but this time he had just come back from an exceedingly productive set of meetings and he suddenly felt as free as a greyhound – although now in his customary, albeit somewhat depreciated human frame. He actually felt like barking.
“Thank you!” he suddenly blurted out. To Carol’s surprise he grabbed both of her hands and whirled her around in rather an uncoordinated pirouette. “Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!” He kept grinning and parroting the same sentiment like a cracked record.
“George! What’s got into you?” Carol tried not to smile.
George stopped, a bit puffed. He was no athlete after all, not in this guise anyway. “I don’t know what brought you into my world, you and Rosie together, and for the life of me I don’t know what you are still doing in it…but thanks to you my world is going to be the same no longer. I’ve just filed for a divorce!”
“No! Well congratulations, George, but why thank me? It was going to happen anyway, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe not…I might have struggled on for years more – quietly suffering, wasting away. Who knows in what state I would have ended up? But not now, not since I met you and Rosie; not since I started doggifying. I started to see the whole world from an entirely different perspective. It was all due to you, and of course Rosie.”
The said dog came up and nuzzled George who enthusiastically stroked and fussed over her. He bent down to receive a lick on his nose and, although not able to converse fluently in animal-speak in his present configuration, he did his best to tell her what a good dog, what a magical dog she was and how indebted he was to her.
Carol stood back and waited. “When you two have quite finished your love affair, do you think we can resume our walk now?” She felt a bit peeved, a bit superfluous.
George stood back up. “No. I haven’t finished with you yet. I have to talk to you. You know it’s you that makes me jump out of my skin, don’t you? I mean its Rosie and her breed that I end up resembling…but it’s you that’s doing it. That and I guess a certain intake of alcohol that seems to lubricate the process and flick the trigger, so to speak…”
Carol just looked at him. Those gorgeous green eyes were doing it again. George began to feel hot under the collar, his pulse began to speed up. Goddammit, he thought, I can’t lose it again! Not now, not here! He had to look away and take a few deep breaths.
“Carol!” He span round. “Why do you bother with me? You looked absolutely ravishing last night and there was any number of blokes in the SCR just dying to get to know you but you stuck next to me all the time, an ugly, decaying, middle-aged old fossil, and you didn’t give anyone else a look in. Why not? They’re all better-looking, better paid, better clued-up than I am. What are you doing with me?”
Carol grinned. “Maybe I’m fed up with all those young, narcissistic types? Maybe it’s time I had a fling with an old fossil or two? Actually, you looked fantastic last night. Really distinguished. Actually quite good-looking. You scrub up well for an old fossil, you know. Did you know that, George?” She was teasing him now. That was good.
“Look, you stupid, glorious, phenomenally sexy young filly…I’ve been trying my very best for weeks not to look at you and go all weak at the knees. You’re what, twenty-seven, twenty-eight? I’m fifty-five. Decades older than you! What are you doing hanging around me, unless you get a sadistic thrill torturing old geezers like I am?”
Carol’s smile widened further and she put her arms up around his neck. “That’s right. I regularly do this. See how many old men I can make keel over. Give ‘em heart attacks. Polish them off. Save the National Health Service a fortune in old-age care…”
“You wicked, evil, murderous young woman. You ought to be locked up!” Carol’s face was inches from George’s own. He couldn’t resist it any longer. He kissed her. Then he went all wobbly and began to fall.
“George!” Carol held onto him in alarm. They both staggered and plunged about on the uneven surface of the footpath. Even Rosie bounded back in surprise, until George righted himself and stood back up, straight and erect.
“Well, that’s what you want isn’t it? Knock me over? Do away with me so you can move on to the next one?”
“George that was not funny!”
“I thought it was. Actually, that’s what you can expect, isn’t it, fooling around with old geriatrics like me. What do you think you are doing? I’ve asked you already and I want an answer – why are you bothering with me?”
“And I’ve already told you before. I love you to bits!”
“You must be crazy. You can’t really mean it. I’m old enough to be your father.”
“Not quite. He would have been a few years your senior, had he lived. I lost him a long time ago, when I was little girl. That’s what I’m looking for, of course. A father substitute.”
George struggled to remove her arms from around his neck. “Oh no! I’m not having that!”
Carol fought to hang on. “George, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t! I didn’t!” She kissed him frantically, despite him trying to wriggle away.
George stopped and looked at her for the umpteenth time. “You’re a beautiful girl. Be serious. You can’t really want to have me for a partner. Can you?”
Carol looked back. She nodded.
“Am I just a passing fancy, a quick fling with an older bloke for a change, or are you serious? Be careful what you say now.”
“George, I want you. I want your babies. I want you to fill me up with babies! Understand? Is that serious enough for you? In fact, why don’t we start right now? Come back into the woods this instant. If you’re so geriatric, like you say you are, I’d better get as many babies out of you as I can before you keel over and I lose you. OK?”
“Good God!”
“George, how many more times do I have to tell you? I love you. What about you? How do you feel about me?”
“I’ve been trying to stop myself falling in love with you ever since I first saw you. Why do I end up turning into a greyhound? It seems to be the only way I can stop myself making a complete fool of myself, the only way I can resist you. Even then it’s not easy…”
“Well stop trying to stop yourself. Got that? Just give the girl what she wants. A little bit of love and affection.” Carol put her arms back around him and kissed him again. Gently. This time George didn’t try to wriggle away.
Chapter 16
George drove Carol and Rosie the short distance two streets back to their home and parked outside. Duncan’s Volvo had gone. Carol opened up and checked inside – as she guessed, Sally was out: Duncan and she were most likely on their way to his place in Newcastle.
Rosie wandered into the kitchen, snaffled up a little of the dog food that Carol had put down for her earlier and then retired to the front room and climbed up onto the sofa. George knew only too
well how she felt – after her run out, then something to eat, it was now time to lie down and have a rest. Greyhounds, like all active carnivores who burn up a lot of energy, spend a lot of time sleeping.
That left George and Carol on their own, looking at one another.
“Did you really mean what you said about wanting babies?” George asked, hopefully.
Carol grinned. “Absolutely. If I’m not fertile right away, we can certainly try practising…”
There was a sudden stampede for the bedroom upstairs and the next hour was spent in unrestrained debauchery.
George fell back almost exhausted. “You are going to kill me sooner rather than later, did you know that?”
“You’ll die happy though, won’t you?”
“I can’t think of a better way to go.” George turned round to gaze into Carol’s face. There was a serenity, a gentleness there, that captured his heart. She was so lovely he felt he might burst.
“I’ve never wanted kids before, do you know that? I’ve never really wanted to think about it because deep down, all along, I’ve known why not. I’ve never wanted kids with her.”
“And now?”
George leapt upon Carol. She giggled and squirmed delightfully. He growled: “Like you said – I want to fill you up with ‘em. Babies, babies and more babies!”
Twenty gymnastic minutes passed and this time George was exhausted. He could barely move. Carol kissed the back of his neck while he lay spread-eagled beside her.
“You’re a bit of a tiger, d’you know that? Not so much a greyhound. Not so much an old man. I was right all along, wasn’t I? There’s a wildness in you that’s been there for ages and ages and that needs to be let out.”
“Mmm. No wildness left. All gone,” George mumbled. “You’ve done for me. Death awaits. Sadist!”
Carol laughed. In contrast to the man beside her, she was invigorated. “You’ll live. You haven’t eaten today have you? I’ll go and fix lunch.” She got up and disappeared downstairs.
Greyhound George Page 19
