Wolfie (5 page)

Lucie’s parents never seemed to wonder about the way that Fang came and went by herself. Sometimes Lucie thought her parents were not very bright or very noticing. After all, even the
biggest, most intelligent dog does not go in and out of a shut door by itself — especially a
locked
door.

“How
do
you get in and out?” Lucie asked Fang.

They were sitting in the back garden. Lucie was piling conkers on the path, and Fang was spread out next to her.

Fang yawned.

“Well, how do you?” asked Lucie again, rather surprised that Fang had not replied.

Fang still said nothing. But she sniffed, as if to say “can’t you smell something?” and flicked her ears as if to say “and hear something too?”

And Lucie
did
hear something — a rustle of leaves. She looked up.

A chestnut tree grew close to the garden wall. Where its leaves hung thickest, there suddenly appeared a
face
. It gave Lucie a shock. For one thing, it had such a mean look. For another,
it belonged to her least favourite person in the whole world — Marcus Mainwaring.

“I hate to break it to you, Lucie,” sneered Marcus, “but she doesn’t
talk
you know! There’s a reason they’re called
dumb
animals!” He
leaned a bit further forward. “But don’t worry — you go on playing your little imaginary games if you want to!”

He pulled himself onto the very top of the wall, and stood there, smirking.

“You mean pig, Marcus!” shouted Lucie. “Spying and sneaking!”

Marcus grinned. But he was not concentrating and lost his balance. He began flailing with his arms, like a windmill. He wobbled forward…he wobbled backwards…he tried to grab hold
of the branch of the chestnut tree. He
almost
got hold of it…
almost
…but not quite…

“Help!” He lost his grip and went slithering down the other side of the wall. THUMP!

“Serve you right!” Lucie shouted.

There were rustlings and mutterings as Marcus picked himself up. These grew fainter as he made his way back to his own house. Then there was a distant BANG! as he slammed the back door.

Lucie waited a moment. “What a creep!” she said to Fang at last. “Spying on us!”

“Definitely more of a weasel than a polecat,” Fang replied.

* * *

But Lucie had just made a big mistake. She thought that Marcus had gone indoors. He had not.

On his way back to the house, feeling very sorry for himself, with his hands and knees stinging where he had grazed them in his fall, Marcus had suddenly had an idea. His idea was
not
to
creep back and spy on Lucie and Fang again, now that they were off their guard. Oh no. It was a lot more petty than that. He decided to take them by surprise and throw things at them.

So he slammed the back door — but from the outside. Then, tiptoeing so they would not hear him, he went to gather twigs and moss from the base of the tree. He found some nice, prickly
horse chestnut cases too. He shoved them into his pockets and was just about to start climbing when he heard Lucie speak.

“What a creep! Spying on us.”

“Definitely more of a weasel than a polecat.”

Marcus almost jumped out of his skin. Who had said
that
? It wasn’t Lucie and it didn’t sound like Lucie’s Mum or Dad either. In fact, it was like no voice that Marcus
knew. It couldn’t…no, it couldn’t possibly be…

“We’ll have to be careful though, Fang,” said Lucie after a while.

“We certainly will. Nasty little beast. I’ve
still
got the smell of him in my nostrils. Urgh! It does hang about. Come on, Lucie. Let’s go.”

Marcus waited a few moments, then swung himself into the tree. Cautiously, he peered over the top of the wall.

Lucie and Fang had their backs to him as they walked towards the house. There was nobody else there at all.

Marcus sniggered to himself as he watched them disappear inside.

“You just made a big mistake, Lucie Firkettle,” he said aloud. “You and that ugly brute of yours. The biggest mistake of your life.”

“W
hy can’t I have a dog?” Marcus asked his mother next morning as they sat eating breakfast in their immaculate kitchen.

“Horrid, smelly, messy creatures,” said Mrs Mainwaring at once. “Pooing everywhere. Shedding fur I hate them. Almost as much as I hate children,” she added.

Marcus did not take that personally. His mother ran a nursery.

“Noisy too,” went on Mrs Mainwaring. “Barking and yapping. That one next door doesn’t bark, thank goodness. But it was howling the other night. Looked out of the window
and there it was, howling in the moonlight. Gave me quite a shock, I can tell you.” She scowled, remembering. “Looked almost like — almost like a
wolf
.”

“Maybe it
is
a wolf,” said Marcus.

“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Mrs Mainwaring. “Whoever heard of a pet wolf?” She got up and went to wash up her breakfast things.

“It could be,” Marcus said. “That Lucie has a book about wolves at school. I took it — I mean, I borrowed it — when she wasn’t looking. And that dog looks
just like the pictures. Maybe it really IS a wolf.”

“And maybe pigs can fly,” said Mrs Mainwaring.

“What would happen if it
was
a wolf?”

“They’d stick it in a zoo,” said Mrs Mainwaring at once. “Or shoot it. But it’s not a wolf.” She put on her rubber gloves and began spraying disinfectant all
over the counters. “I’m certainly going to complain if I hear it howling again,” she added.

“I still don’t see why that Lucie should have a dog and not me,” whined Marcus.

“You’ve got a rabbit, haven’t you?”

“Only because the nursery rabbit had babies.
I
never wanted a rabbit.”

“Then give it to next door’s dog,” said Mrs Mainwaring nastily. “I’m sure it would take care of it for you. Now get moving, Marcus, I’m late.”

She hurried out of the sparkling kitchen to find her coat. Marcus was still thinking over their conversation. Certain phrases kept niggling at him:
stick it in a zoo
and
shoot it
and
give it to next door’s dog
. He realised he was getting an idea.

A mean, cruel, cunning idea. Just the kind he liked best.

“What if it was a
talking
wolf?” he said to his Mum as they left the house. “What then?”

“Be your age! There are no talking wolves!”

“But if there were?”

“Interview it on the telly, I expect,” said his mother sarcastically. “Ask it what it thinks of the world economic situation. Really, Marcus, how should I know? I suppose
they’d lock it up in a laboratory, and do tests on it. What stupid ideas you have! Talking wolves! It’ll be fairies and hobgoblins next.”

She went clicking away up the pavement on her high heels. Marcus grinned to himself. “Just shows what you know,” he said.

* * *

Next door, Lucie was still eating her breakfast. Naturally, she had no idea that Marcus was plotting. Instead, she was thinking about the picture she was going to do at school,
and how she and Fang were planning to go looking for more conkers together afterwards.

She hummed to herself as she spooned up her cornflakes. Her parents were both listening to the news on the radio, but Lucie did not pay much attention until Dad suddenly choked on his tea.

“Well, what do you know,” he said, when he’d stopped spluttering. “That’s old Professor Pike they’re talking about — Professor Pike who lives next
door!”

“Do you really think it’s the same one?” asked Mum.

“Must be!” said Dad. “Hush!”

They all listened hard, even Lucie, but they had missed most of it. “….awarded for distinguished contributions to scientific research,” said the announcer. “And now,
moving on to the sports results…”

“Must be a brainy old bird,” said Dad.

“Are you sure it’s the
same
Professor Pike?” asked Mum.

“But what was it
about
?” asked Lucie.

“They just said our Professor Pike has been awarded a Gold Medal,” Dad said. “For distinguished scientific research. I think it’s the same one. Rather good to think we
live next door to a Gold Medal Winner. Wish they’d said what kind of scientific research it was — wonder if it had anything to do with computers —” Dad finished munching his
toast and slipped the crust to Fang, who crunched it whole.

“I wish you wouldn’t feed Wolfie at table,” said Mum. She gazed at Fang. “I must say she is looking very well. Wonderful, glossy coat she has.”

“It’s that vegetarian dog food,” Dad said. “Full of vitamins.”

As she left for school with Fang, Lucie found herself gazing at the house next door with new curiosity. It was a very odd-looking house. It had a high wrought-iron gate with gateposts with
gargoyles on top, and it was surrounded with thick holly bushes and pine trees. But she could just make out two very high, twisty chimneys, and a turret poking up on the corner.

“Looks more like a house for a ghost, than a scientist,” Lucie said to Fang. “I wonder if Professor Pike does experiments in there? I wonder if he mixes up chemicals in test
tubes. Imagine if one of them exploded…”

It was at this moment that Marcus jumped out from behind a gatepost. “Hah!” he yelled. “Gotcha!”

“Eek!” squeaked Lucie, jumping backwards. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Waiting for you,” said Marcus. “And that animal you’re talking to. Oh yes — I heard you — so no point denying it. But it can’t
talk
you know,
Lucie, however much you go wittering on.” Marcus paused a few moments, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “
Or can it
?”

“What do you mean?” asked Lucie. She felt like a hand had taken hold of her stomach, and was squeezing it hard.

“Nothing,” said Marcus. “Of course, it’s ridiculous to think that a dog might talk.” He paused. “About as ridiculous as thinking it might not even
be
a
dog.” He paused again. “That it might be a WOLF.”

Lucie said not a word. But a wave of red swept across her cheeks. She dared not look at Fang.

“Ridiculous, of course,” Marcus said. “Only if it
were
true…well, that would be interesting, wouldn’t it? I wonder what would happen then? If people found
out? I expect they would give the wolf to a scientist to study in their laboratory. Maybe to Professor Pike. Because
I
happen to know that Professor Pike
isn’t
the kind of
scientist who studies chemicals in test tubes. Mum mentioned it once. Professor Pike studies
animals
.” He paused again. “Cuts them up into little pieces I
expect…”

Lucie gave a cry. Then she flew at Marcus. But before she could punch him in the middle of his smug, spiteful face, as she badly wanted to do, Fang grabbed the bottom of her skirt with her teeth
and pulled her back.

Lucie swallowed, and tried to stay calm.

“What d’you want, Marcus?” she asked, from between gritted teeth.

“Meet me after school today. Between the gates and the After School Club. And bring that thing with you.” He pointed at Fang.

“She’s not a thing!”

Marcus shrugged.

“What if I don’t?” said Lucie.

“Oh, I think you will. Unless you want everyone to know what
I
know about that DOG of yours. Beginning with Mr Dundas.” Mr Dundas was the school Head Teacher.

Without waiting for an answer, Marcus turned and made off down the street, whistling.

“Thanks for stopping me hitting him,” said Lucie in a shaky voice. “It wouldn’t have helped.”

“He’d just have hit you back,” said Fang, “and he’s stronger than you. Then I probably would have bitten him, even though I promised I wouldn’t
—”

“It would have only caused more trouble,” Lucie agreed. “We’ll just have to meet him. I wonder what he wants?”

“No good I expect. But I’ll be with you,” said Fang.

That was some comfort, anyway.

A
ll through school that day, Marcus kept shooting Lucie mean looks. And all through school that day, Lucie kept wondering what it was he
wanted.

At playtime, Lucie’s teacher kept her back.

“Is anything the matter, Lucie?” asked Miss Singh kindly. “You seem very distracted today.”

Lucie liked Miss Singh. For a moment she was tempted to confide in her. Then she imagined herself saying, “Marcus Mainwaring has found out that my dog is really a talking wolf, and is
threatening to tell everybody so she can be sent to a zoo or cut up in a laboratory,” and she knew she couldn’t.

“There’s nothing wrong really, Miss Singh,” she said.

As she was leaving the classroom, she nearly bumped into Marcus, listening at the door.

“You sneaky sneak, Marcus!” said Lucie. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“That would suit you, wouldn’t it,” sneered Marcus. “You and that ugly brute of yours.” He turned away. “I’ll see you after school. You’d better
be there.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Lucie.

He turned round again. “What do you mean?”