Dogsbody

  Miss Smith lay back on her pillow, anxiously listening to his progress. She smiled when she heard the garden gate click. “Understood every word. I thought he would, bless him. But it looks late. He’ll be in trouble. If he doesn’t turn up tomorrow, I’ll know they’ve found he can get out.”

  10

  Sirius went home at a hasty canter. He knew as soon as he was outside that it was not quite as late as he had thought. But it was late enough. He had barely time to get back before Kathleen did. He galloped around the corner into the right street, almost skidding in his hurry, and found he was actually behind Kathleen. She was halfway up the street. He could get there. If he dived into the side street that led to the lane behind the yard, he could be in the yard with the gate shut and his collar on, and Kathleen would never know he had been out.

  But Kathleen was in trouble. He could see she was. There was a gang of boys all around her, shouting things, and one kept trying to pull her hair. The sight of Kathleen being pushed and jostled all over the pavement was more than Sirius could take. He could not help it if he was found out. He trotted forward with his ears pricked to see what he could do.

  There were six boys of several sizes. They were pinching and shoving Kathleen, and stamping in puddles so that she was showered with muddy water. Sirius could see from Kathleen’s face that this had often happened to her and she had no way of stopping it.

  “What’s at the bottom of an Irish milk bottle?” shrieked the smallest boy, who seemed to be Kathleen’s chief tormentor.

  “Open other end!” roared the others, screaming with laughter and shoving Kathleen this way and that.

  “How do you brainwash an Irishwoman?” yelled the first boy.

  “Fill her boots with water!” screamed the others, stamping in puddles for all they were worth.

  Sirius’s trot dropped to a crouching walk. He crept forward, growling softly. Perhaps it was the misery on Kathleen’s face, or perhaps it was that he had already lost his temper once that day, but he became angrier with every step. Too bad it was the smallest boy who was the worst. Sirius’s growl became a snarl. The boys were too busy shouting to hear him. As the smallest boy opened his mouth to ask what they put at the top of Irish ladders, Sirius lit to a green rage again and sprang.

  The boys found themselves barged aside by something they thought was a raging lion. Its eyes blazed like green torches. It hit the smallest boy in the chest and knocked him over backwards. Then it stood on him, snarling, baring a set of huge white teeth and making his terrified face green with the light from its eyes.

  “Leo!” said Kathleen. It was half relief, half reproach, and very wobbly.

  Sirius knew he must not upset her any further. He had to content himself with snarling around the ring of boys. Two green beams from his eyes flitted over them all. He was trying so hard not to bite the boy he was treading on that foam dripped across his bared teeth and down from his open jaws. The boys backed away hurriedly. One of them slipped on the rainy pavement and sat down. Sirius hoped it hurt him.

  “Go away,” Kathleen said shakily. “Leave me be, or I’ll set my dog on all of you.”

  “Call that a dog!” said one of the boys. “That’s a beeping monster!”

  Sirius stepped off the smallest boy and crawled slowly at the rest, growling ardently. They did not wait for him to reach them. Those on their feet ran. The other two scrambled up and pelted after them. Sirius bounded behind, his eyes blazing, blown up to twice his real size, barking as horribly as he knew how.

  When he had chased them to the end of the street, he heard three voices calling him. “Leo! Shamus! RAT!” Reluctantly, Sirius left the chase and came trotting back. His coat settled down as he came, and by the time he reached Kathleen, his eyes were their normal green. Basil and Robin were with Kathleen.

  “How did he get out?” Basil demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Kathleen said shakily. “He—he was just there suddenly.” Sirius could see she was trying not to cry. He tried to go and comfort her, but Basil stopped him and rubbed his ears.

  “You’re quite a good dog really,” he said.

  “Yes, but we must get him in before Mum finds out,” Robin said.

  The others anxiously agreed. They hurried Sirius in through the side door and left him in the living room while they all rushed out into the yard to see what had happened there. Tibbles was curled up on the sofa and looked up in surprise.

  “You haven’t bolted the gate yet, have you?” Sirius asked her.

  “Of course not,” she said. “You weren’t in. What’s happened? Did they find you in the road?”

  “More or less,” said Sirius.

  “Then I expect they’ll bolt the gate for us,” Tibbles said placidly and settled down to sleep again.

  “Don’t go to sleep,” said Sirius. “I need to ask you—Those dogs, the ones Kathleen read about that are white with red ears—where do they come from?”

  “Oh,” said Tibbles. “Them. I keep out of their way. They don’t usually hurt warm beasts like us. They mostly come out at night.”

  “Where have you seen them?”

  Before Tibbles could answer, Basil, Robin and Kathleen came back, loudly wondering who could have opened the yard gate. Kathleen was carrying Sirius’s collar. She took him away from Tibbles and pushed the collar firmly over his head.

  “That was bad, Leo,” she told him.

  “He slipped his collar. That’s obvious,” Basil kept saying. “But someone must have undone the gate for him. Who was it?”

  Robin’s opinion was that it had been burglars. “Mum keeps clay and glaze and things in the shed. Could they have been after that?”

  “Don’t be an idiot!” said Basil. “Who wants clay? And hold your tongue unless we find something’s missing.”

  “You hold yours,” Robin retorted.

  Neither of them did. They continued to discuss it whenever Duffie was not within hearing. Kathleen set about making supper. She was so pale and shaky still that Sirius kept close beside her, trying to comfort her. He hoped, very earnestly, that it would remain an unsolved mystery who had opened the gate. He hoped Basil and Robin would forget about it soon.

  Fate was against him. Later that evening, when the family was sitting around the television, there was a heavy knock at the side door. Basil went to answer it and came back looking very dismayed, and a strange man and a policeman came after him. It seemed that the boy Sirius had knocked over and the one who had sat down were brothers. When they were asked to explain their muddy clothes, they told their father that Kathleen had set a savage dog on them, which had bitten them and mauled them. The strange man was their father. He had gone to the police, and the policeman had come to investigate.

  Kathleen said, “He did not bite them!” and burst into tears. Duffie looked at her, coldly and triumphantly, and then at Sirius. Sirius quailed. He had a sudden hopeless green memory of being on trial for his life. He felt quite as sick now.

  “I think there must be some mistake,” said Mr. Duffield. “This dog never bites. He’s a most forbearing animal, or I wouldn’t keep him. And he spends all day tied tip in the yard.”

  “Is this the animal?” said the policeman. “Not much of a house dog, is he, sir? I didn’t hear him bark.”

  “He never barks either,” said Mr. Duffield. “That’s his other virtue.”

  The policeman looked as if he did not think it was a virtue. Robin, who knew that it was usually the silent dogs that bit people, and suspected that the policeman knew it too, said quickly, “He’s used to people coming in and out of the shop, you see.”

  “Ah,” said the policeman. “Is that it? Perhaps the little girl would give us her version of the episode.”

  Kathleen could not speak for crying. She was afraid Leo was in mortal danger, and she knew he had looked very savage indeed. It had horrified her. And she could not bring herself to tell anyone how miserable those boys made her, day after day, and how relieved she had been to see Leo
.

  “There isn’t another version,” said the father angrily. “This girl set that great brute on my two lads. Ruined their clothes! The wife’s furious. It was a huge creature like a lion, they said, all fangs, with green eyes that lit up from inside. Are you sure that’s the dog?”

  Everyone looked at Sirius. He wagged his tail bashfully and did his best to frown, so that his eyebrows shaded his eyes a little. “Well, his eyes are a sort of green,” the policeman said.

  “It’s the only dog we’ve got,” Duffie said icily. “It’s the one you want all right.”

  “Perhaps we could have your side of the story first,” the policeman said to Kathleen. But Kathleen still could not speak. “Anyone else here see anything?” asked the policeman.

  Robin and Basil wriggled uncomfortably. They knew they had stood on the other side of the road letting a mere dog come to Kathleen’s rescue. Because Robin was the smaller, he was less ashamed than Basil. “Yes,” he blurted out. “I was across the road. There were six boys, all onto Kathleen, hitting her and calling names and things.”

  “My boys wouldn’t do that,” said the father. “What had she done to them?”

  “Nothing,” sobbed Kathleen. “They always do it.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen them nearly every day,” Robin said, and then went scarlet because of the way Mr. Duffield was looking at him. “I told you, I was across the road,” he said.

  “Were you too far away to hear what the—er—argument might have been about?” asked the policeman.

  By this time, Basil’s face was mottled with shame. “No. We heard them. They were jeering at Kathleen for being Irish.” He went even more mottled, remembering how often he had done the same, but he went on, “And the Ra—er—the dog didn’t bite them. Kathleen didn’t even call him. He just came charging up and—er—defended her.”

  “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.”