Dogsbody (16 page)

“Irish, eh?” said the policeman.

“My lads take after me,” said the father. “I can’t abide the Irish.”

The policeman coughed. “I have to remind you that there are Race Relations laws, sir.”

For a moment the father looked very blank. But he soon rallied. “That’s got nothing to do with it. This dog is a dangerous brute that savaged my two lads. It ought to be put down.”

“How I agree!” said Duffie.

“He didn’t savage them!” said Basil. “He just growled at them and scared them off.” Sirius felt that he had never appreciated Basil properly.

“Let’s see how fierce he is,” the policeman suggested. Sirius was thankful he understood, for, when the policeman suddenly aimed a great punch at him, right between the eyes, he was enough prepared only to blink and back away. The policeman’s fist stopped
before it reached him. Sirius showed him how mild he was by getting up then, wagging his tail and apologizing to the policeman for being hit by him. “Not what I’d call fierce,” said the policeman, rubbing his ears. “Lovely coat he’s got.” Sirius began to hope that it would not take much more to have the policeman entirely on his side.

The father perhaps thought so too. “What about those blazing eyes?” he demanded aggressively. “My lads said they were like torches. They saw two spots of light coming from them. Now that’s not natural.”

“Of course it’s not natural,” said Basil. “It’s not true.”

“Boys do have a way of exaggerating,” the policeman said, seeing the father glaring at Basil. “All I can say is that they’re not blazing now.” He stood up. “But the police have had one complaint about this dog,” he said formally. “I’m bound to tell you that we’ll have to take action if we have another.”

“Don’t worry,” said Duffie. “I’ll see to it tomorrow.”

“Oh, there’s no need to do anything now, Madam,” the policeman told her. “I was just warning you. I know there’s no harm in this dog. He’s as playful as a great puppy. He once had me and our driver and His Worship the Mayor and the Town Clerk and goodness knows who-all running chasing him down the High Street. And he thought we were playing with him.”

Everyone was astounded. “When on earth was this?” said Mr. Duffield.

“Couple of months ago, it would be,” said the policeman.

Then the fat was in the fire. Everyone knew Sirius should have
been in the yard. Kathleen sobbed heavily. Duffie rounded on Basil and Basil was forced to admit that the bolts of the yard gate had been undone that evening.

“Well!” said Duffie. “I’m used to Kathleen being sly and underhanded. I expect it. But you! I’m ashamed. And anyone could have broken in and taken anything!”

The father began to look smug, as he saw a case might be building up against Kathleen and her fierce brute after all. “That girl drew the bolts,” he said.

“I’m sure she did,” said Duffie.

“I didn’t, I swear,” sobbed Kathleen. “On the Holy Bible.”

“Then the brute did it himself,” said the father. “You see dogs on telly that can open gates. You take him out there. You see.”

So everyone trooped out into the yard. The policeman shone his torch on the gate and Sirius was invited to draw back the bolts. Romulus, Remus and Tibbles gathered anxiously on the wall to watch. And Sirius put on a performance beside which his begging was nothing. He was all stupid anxiety to please. He bounced about. He wagged his tail and pricked up his ears willingly. But when Mr. Duffield tried to show him what was wanted by pushing the top bolt backwards and forwards, Sirius became an excited moron. Rover or Redears would have seemed masterminds beside him. It was obviously quite beyond his powers to open anything. They did, with much coaxing, get him to stand on his hind legs and lean his front paws on the gate, but he heaved up with such an effort, so far off the bolt, and looked so idiotically pleased with himself for getting there, that it was clear to everyone that he had never done such a thing in his life before.

“So it looks like somebody opened the gate for him,” said the policeman.

“Kathleen,” said Duffie’s cold voice in the background.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Mr. Duffield. “It was more likely to have been those malicious boys.”

“Who are you calling malicious?” the father demanded angrily.

“We’ll keep an eye on the place,” the policeman said soothingly. “If we see anyone behaving suspiciously, we’ll investigate. Otherwise, that seems to be all. But do make sure this dog is properly shut up in future, sir.”

The policeman and the father left, but it was not exactly all. While Sirius flung himself down on the hearthrug, thoroughly exhausted with his efforts, Mr. Duffield made Duffie sulk by saying he was sure Kathleen had not unlocked the gate, and that no one could blame the horse for going to her rescue. Then he made Kathleen cry again by demanding to know why she had not told him about the boys. The answer was that Mr. Duffield would not have listened, but Kathleen could not tell him that. After that, Mr. Duffield turned to Basil and Robin and gave them a long lecture on the paltry way they had stood on the other side of the road letting Kathleen be bullied. Kathleen was so embarrassed that she fled to the kitchen. Robin cried. Basil went as sulky as Duffie and muttered that there were six of the festering boys, and he didn’t care for the festering Irish either. “I wouldn’t have said a word if the Rat hadn’t been in trouble,” he growled. “That’s the last time I do anything for the festering dog!”

Sirius sighed as he heaved off the hearthrug and pattered to the kitchen after Kathleen. Mr. Duffield meant well. But he was too
wrapped up in himself to attend to what other people felt. It took a policeman to make him notice anything was wrong, and now he seemed to be making matters worse. He was the most self-centered creature Sirius knew—apart from Duffie, of course.

He found Duffie had cornered Kathleen in the kitchen and was working off some of her bad temper by stumping around the room lecturing her. Kathleen was silent and tearstained. Sirius went and pressed himself against her and tried to keep his eyes, off Duffie’s fat hairy calves as they stumped back and forth.

Duffie concluded her lecture after twenty minutes. “I’ve put up with you and I’ve put up with That Creature,” she ended. “And you reward me by letting it out to savage innocent children. Well, I warn you, Kathleen, this is the last time it does. If I ever find it out again, it goes.” By this time Sirius was shaking all over because he so much wanted to take a piece out of one of those stumping calves. “You may well tremble!” Duffie said, pointing at him. “You’ve run your course. One more thing—one more!—and I take you down to the vet.”

Kathleen had stopped crying by bedtime. But she did not play or read. She sat up in bed hugging Sirius.

“Leo,” she whispered, “please don’t open that gate again. I know it’s boring in the yard, but please don’t. I know it was you opened it. You’re much cleverer than you pretend. But if Duffie takes you to the vet, I won’t be able to
bear
it.” She squeezed Sirius until he wanted to wriggle free. “Oh, how I
wish
we didn’t have to live with the Duffields!” she said.

Sirius had never heard Kathleen admit this before. If he had needed anything more to show him how serious the trouble was,
this was it. He licked her face, very kindly, and Kathleen hugged him harder than ever.

The next day, he knew he had to be very careful. As he sat in the yard at the end of his rope, Duffie actually came out of the house three times to make sure that he was there. She seemed disappointed when he was.

“I daren’t go out,” he said to Sol. “What can I do?”

“That’s a pity,” said Sol. “She’ll get tired of watching you in the end, but I’m afraid you haven’t got much time left. Things are happening in Ireland. And the longer you leave that Zoi, the more certain it is the wrong people will find it. And I can’t have that. It’s done enough damage here as it is. I want you to go and look upriver.”

Sirius felt it was good of Sol not to reproach him for wasting his time when he could get out of the yard. “If you really think the Zoi
is
there—” he said. “But I’m not sure. Tell me about white dogs with red ears—cold dogs.”

“Those?” said Sol. The fierce bluish color at the very heart of him spread, so that he blazed somber and formidable. “I’ve nothing against the dogs,” he said. “You were bred from one of them—did you know? But their Master is a dark thing. He’s one of those I wouldn’t like to see getting hold of the Zoi. Listen, I’ll give your Duffie something else to think about, if you promise to go and look upriver as soon as you’re out.”

Sirius shivered. He did not like to say that he suspected that a dark thing had already got hold of the Zoi. He gave another shiver at the thought of Mrs. Partridge. “All right. I promise.”

“Thank you,” said Sol. “Be patient a day or so.”

Patient! thought Sirius. When Sol said time was short, it was. When the Zoi was probably in the wrong hands, and he had found a clue to it, and lost it, when he was tied to this yard, when Kathleen was miserable, how
could
he be patient? He missed roaming about. He wanted to see Miss Smith, Mr. Gumble and his other providers. He lay and thought of ice cream. He was horribly hungry.

“You
do
get hungry,” Remus said sympathetically, “if you’re used to going hunting. I remember the time I got shut in the bathroom.”

The cats put their heads together. In the early afternoon, Romulus trotted along the wall and jumped down onto the roof of the shelter, carrying a mouse. “Here you are,” he said kindly. “Let it run about a bit before you eat it. They taste sweeter like that. But I shouldn’t eat the tail. That’s stringy.”

He leaped away again, leaving Sirius staring at a tiny terrified creature crouching between his big blunt paws. He moved his right paw a little. The mouse ran backwards and forwards, squealing with fear. Sirius nosed it. It did not smell very edible and it squealed worse than ever. He knew he could not eat it. He was not used to having his food alive and horrified. But he did not want to offend the cats.

“Run away, you silly thing,” he told the mouse. “I’m not going to eat you.”

The mouse was insane with fear and did not understand. Sirius looked around all the walls and roofs to make sure none of the cats was around. Then he pushed and nosed the mouse into the far corner of his shelter, where it crouched for the rest of the afternoon, too terrified to move. Kathleen found it when she came to
untie Sirius. She picked it up and put it gently inside the shed where Duffie kept her clay.

“Stay there, or the cats will find you,” she said to it. The mouse did not understand her either, but it did not appear again.

“I ate the tail,” Sirius told Romulus. “It was quite tasty. Thanks very much.” He made do with half a tin of dog food and the scraps from supper that night, and for the rest of the week. It made him mournful. But he was glad that Kathleen seemed happier. As far as he could tell, the boys were not daring to bother her again.

That weekend, to his dismay, Clive called for Basil and they went to look for the Zoi again. They went upriver, and they took Robin to carry the sandwiches. Robin was so proud and flattered to be taken that when they came home that evening, he was talking of collecting Remains for himself. Basil and Clive had not found the Zoi. But they had some Roman oyster shells, a modern clam, a flint that looked almost like an arrowhead, and a bone Basil rather thought was part of an ichthyosaurus. Sirius sniffed it. It smelled of mutton.

Basil clouted him. “Get out, Rat! I’ll tell the police on you.”

“Please!” Kathleen said. This was a very tender point with her.

“The trouble with you is that you’ll believe anything,” said Basil.

Over the weekend, something strange happened to the pots Duffie had in her shop window. There had been an artistic stack of them. But, on the side the sun struck them, the glaze had melted and run, and the clay underneath crumbled away. What Duffie found in the window on Sunday evening was something like a honeycomb, made of twenty half-pots stuck together with glaze.
She brought it into the house and waved it dramatically. She tramped about with it, raging. She raged at the glaze-makers. She wagged the honeycomb in people’s faces and raged at the clay suppliers. She would have liked to rage at Kathleen and Sirius too. They tried to keep out of her way. She raged instead at shoddy modern products.

“It seems to me that you might as well blame the sunlight, while you’re at it,” Mr. Duffield remarked from behind the Sunday paper.

Sirius opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue in a wide grin. On Monday morning, he asked Sol how he had done it.

Sol beamed. “A concentration of the right particles. But you can go out now. I can see her through the window making new pots. And I’ve made sure of a spell of good fine weather, because that usually brings her a shopful of customers. She’s not likely to think of you much today.”

Joyfully Sirius stood up, dragged the collar off over his ears and drew back the bolts on the gate.

11

M
iss Smith was delighted to see him. “I was afraid you’d got yourself shut up for good,” she said. She gave him a bowl of raw hamburger. Mr. Gumble gave him a bone and a doughnut. The two old men on the benches gave him a steak pie and a hamburger. Feeling full and contented, Sirius trotted through the sunshine to the cleared space where Yeff had vanished. He told himself he was not putting off Mrs. Partridge: he had to check on this place first.

There was not the faintest prickle from the Zoi. But he hardly knew the cleared space, it had changed so in the last week. It was now the beginning of May. The grass was thick and green. The bushes were putting out leaves and the nettles had come up high enough to brush him underneath. The greening mounds of rubble were so studded with dandelions that Sirius felt homesick. The flowers looked like luminaries, and the green was like his own sphere. Earth was a beautiful place.

He was so homesick he thought he would go and see Patchie. He
was not sure why, except that he was sad and joyful at once, and it seemed to fit.

As soon as he came to the end of her street, he knew that the compulsive feeling connected with Patchie had gone. There was no longer a crowd of dogs at her gate. “Hallo, hallo!” said Rover and Redears as he trotted by. Bruce was very busy tugging at the latch of his gate with his teeth.