Pongo was glad to see her relief but he didn’t share it. He had never really believed that Cruella was now the enemy—and he almost wished she were. For even if she was a devil, she was the devil he knew. As things were, he felt that someone, something, much more powerful than Cruella was in charge today. And that someone, something, was still absolutely unknown.
8. The Voice
Police dogs cleared a way into Downing Street and said they would take care of the Tractor. And a Police Dog in the hall said Cadpig was upstairs in the drawing-room. Pongo and Missis led the way. They found their daughter all alone, except for the faithful Patch, and looking very small in the large, beautiful room. She was also looking worried. But at once she smiled brightly and greeted the Sheepdog, the cats, and the Dalmatians who had pushed the Tractor.
“I must have a ride on the Tractor myself,” she said. Then she told Tommy how glad she was to see him, and when the Jack Russell was introduced she said she’d always wanted to meet one. And before anyone could introduce the Staffordshire she ran to him and said, “But you’re our old friend, surely. You saved all our lives long ago.”
“Wonderful memory,” thought Missis.
“Wonderful pluck,” thought Pongo, remembering how forlorn Cadpig had looked when they entered the room. He told her there was nothing to fear from Cruella.
“Good,” said Cadpig and then asked if everyone would like to see the sleeping Prime Minister.
“We shan’t be too many?” asked the General.
“No, no. I’ve been letting conducted tours go up all afternoon. I feel he would like it.” She asked Patch to act as an escort, and then said to Pongo, “You and Mother won’t want to go up again. Please stay with me.”
As soon as the three of them were alone together, Cadpig’s bright smile faded. She said she’d had a depressing afternoon, entertaining the provincial lady-dogs. “Good creatures, of course, but one grows tired of feminine chatter. Oh, dear! This is the time of day the Prime Minister and I used to watch the news on television together. He had a glass of sherry and I had a peppermint cream.”
“I’ve always been fond of peppermint creams,” said Missis.
“There’s a box of them on the table, there—if you could fancy one, Mother.”
Missis looked longingly at the box, but what she longed for was the longing for a peppermint cream, not the peppermint cream itself. She was so unhungry that she could not remember what being hungry felt like.
Pongo said, “At a time like this, one does feel the need for television. It somehow linked us all together. Do you think we could make it work?”
“But there can’t be anything on, Father—with all the humans asleep.”
Pongo’s idea had been that Cadpig herself should be on television, to please her many admirers. But now he had another idea. He suddenly felt a need of television, that it could somehow help him. And today, dogs seemed to get what they needed. He looked toward the big television set. It wasn’t quite like the one the Dearlys had and he didn’t know which knob turned it on and, anyway, he couldn’t turn knobs. Well he couldn’t usually—but usually he couldn’t turn door handles. Perhaps today …
He looked hard at the television set and thought about need.
Click! One of the knobs turned itself.
Only Pongo noticed this. He would say nothing yet, he would wait until—
A strange sound came from the television, a soft, musical wail, very high and sweet.
“Listen!” cried Missis, quickly looking at the screen, which gradually became luminous.
“How marvellous!” gasped Cadpig.
The three of them stared at the television, hoping for a picture, but the screen remained blank, just an oblong of pale light.
“You see? There’s nothing on,” said Cadpig sadly.
But at that moment the screen grew lighter, changing from a greyish white to a silver white, and then it grew so bright that it was as dazzling as powerful head lights of a car on a dark night. And as the screen brightened, the room darkened until the three dogs sat in utter blackness gazing at utter brilliance. Then the edges of the screen darkened a little and the light seemed to be drawing all its radiance into the center where—brighter than ever and flashing even brighter—it assumed the shape of a star.
Missis cried, “Pongo! The dream I had last night! I saw a bright light that turned into a star—and it was this star. It was high above the stable roof.”
“Do you mean you woke and saw it through the window?” said Pongo. “The stars were very bright last night.”
“No, no. Mine was a dream star. It was much bigger and brighter than a real star. It was this star!”
“Yes, Missis, it was this star,” said a voice from the screen.
It was like no voice the dogs had ever heard before. It was not the voice of a human or of any animal—and yet, strangely, it reminded Pongo of Mr. Dearly’s voice, reminded Missis of Mrs. Dearly’s voice and reminded Cadpig of the Prime Minister’s voice. This made it comforting as well as awe-inspiring.
The Voice went on, “All dogs saw me in their dreams last night but few of them remember it as you do, Missis. But they will remember it. That is part of the plan.”
“What plan?” said Cadpig sharply. “Tell me at once!” Then she added in her most winning tone, “Please! You see, I have so much responsibility.”
“And you are managing very nicely,” said the Voice, sounding amused. “With the help of your clever parents.”
Missis said, “Goodness, I’m not clever.”
“There are different ways of being clever,” said the Voice. “You are intuitive—which means you can often understand things without reasoning them out.”
“Would that be metaphysical?” asked Missis.
“Very metaphysical,” said the Voice, still sounding amused. “Now Pongo is more brainy than you are. Has it not been said that he has one of the keenest brains in Dogdom?”
Pongo was greatly flattered. Many dogs had thought him brainy in the days when he had been cleverer than Scotland Yard at finding his stolen puppies. But he hadn’t done anything very dashing just lately. He said, “I’m afraid my brain has grown rusty.”
“But the rust is wearing off fast,” said the Voice. “It was clever of you to tell all the dogs to ‘Wait and See.’ That’s kept them happy. And it was clever of you to turn the television on, even if I did put the idea into your mind.”
“You did?” asked Pongo.
“I did indeed,” said the Voice. “Oh, you and I can work together, brainy Pongo. And I can work with metaphysical Missis. As for Cadpig! Now how shall we describe Cadpig? Clever and intuitive. Very, very pretty. And, shall we say, just a trifle bossy?” The Voice was now quite playful.
“Well, don’t I need to be?” said Cadpig. “With thousands of dogs waiting for me to tell them what to do?”
“And you shall tell them,” said the Voice. “Now listen carefully. You must get my instructions through to every dog in England. Many of them can be reached by your thoughts but there are some dogs, often in lonely places, who have not yet learned to read thoughts. You must talk to them by the old-fashioned Twilight Barking. All dogs must be made to understand. At midnight tonight all dogs in London are to be in Trafalgar Square. All dogs in provincial towns are to be in town-hall squares or public parks. Country-town dogs are to be in market places. And dogs in villages and deep country are to be in open spaces, village greens or on tops of hills—places where they can see the sky. And all, all, are to be in their places by midnight.”
“And then what will happen?” asked Cadpig.
“Oh, you must take your father’s advice and ‘Wait and See’,” said the Voice.
And suddenly Missis felt frightened of it—or was it the word “midnight” that had frightened her? Only that morning she’d told Pongo she found midnight scaring—and now she was being asked to sit in Trafalgar Square at midnight waiting for something to happen. It would be very frightening indeed. Bu
t she kept her fears to herself, so she was so astonished at what the Voice said next.
“Yes, Missis, it will be frightening. But don’t you sometimes enjoy being frightened? Don’t you find it pleasantly exciting?”
“No,” said Missis.
“I do,” said Pongo.
“There speaks my brave Pongo,” said the Voice. “And how does my little friend Cadpig feel about it? Is she frightened?”
“I haven’t got time to be,” said Cadpig. “What’s worrying me is all the thought-sending and barking I’ll need to do. Have I to send the news over all England? And how about Scotland?”
“Scotland, too, and Wales. You needn’t reach across the sea.”
“But isn’t this thing happening all over the world?” asked Cadpig.
“Certainly it is. But you can leave the rest of the world to me, dear bossy Cadpig. Now each of you may ask one question. But that question mustn’t be ‘What’s going to happen?’.”
Instantly Pongo, Missis and Cadpig felt that was the one question they wanted to ask.
“Hurry up,” said the Voice.
Pongo said, “Who are you?”
“Oh, that would be like telling you what’s going to happen. Wait and see, Pongo. Wait and see.”
Cadpig said, “If I need your help, how can I call you?”
“You can’t. You must manage on your own. Now your question, Missis, and be quick. In five seconds I shall leave you.”
Missis tried hard to think of some really important question but she couldn’t, and already the star was less brilliant. At last she said, “What’s happened to Roly Poly?” As far as she knew, he was still on the loose in London with George, the Foreign Secretary.
“Oh, that fat funny son of yours,” said the Voice. “I’m afraid I can’t see him at the moment and I haven’t time to look for him. I have to make appearances all over the world. See you at midnight.”
The star vanished, leaving the screen empty. Then the television turned itself off, with a loud click, and the room, which had grown so dark, was lit by daylight again.
Cadpig said, “Did you like him?”
“Was it a him?” said Missis. “I thought it was a her.”
“Oh, no, Missis,” said Pongo. “But perhaps we’d better call it an it.”
“Isn’t that rather rude?” said Missis. “Suppose he, she or it can hear?”
“Well, a voice on its own is always called ‘it’,” said Pongo.
Cadpig said, “I hope it can hear. I want it to know that I liked it at first, but then I thought it was making fun of us—which wasn’t a kind thing to do, when we’re all so anxious.” She looked hard at the television and added, “If you’ve anything to say about that, click on.”
But nothing happened. And just then the party that had been up to see the Prime Minister came back. Pongo, Missis and Cadpig at once began to tell what had happened, and as the three of them barked at once it was very confusing, but at last they made themselves understood.
“Well, at least we know that there’s someone in charge,” said the General. “But who?”
Young Tommy, wildly excited, began talking his extraordinary language very fast. The General listened carefully and then said, “This may be important. Tommy thinks that whatever it was that talked to you must have come from Outer Space.”
Pongo remembered the books of Science Fiction he had seen in Tommy’s room. The little boy might well be right. Pongo decided to ask him some questions. But that very instant the television turned itself on again, with a loud click.
This time there was no star. There was just the Voice, saying loudly, “Pongo, don’t pry. Tommy, keep your silly ideas to yourself. Now, Cadpig, get busy or there will be dogs who don’t know what they have to do at midnight and that will be most unfortunate for them.” Then the television snapped off.
Tommy was looking hurt. The Sheepdog licked him affectionately and they had a few words together. Then the Sheepdog explained. “Tommy says it’s all right. The Voice isn’t as cross as it sounds. Tommy says his father has no patience with Science Fiction and is often very snubbing about it. But he’s really the kindest of men.”
“What’s Tommy’s father got to do with it?” asked Cadpig.
“Tommy says the Voice sounded like his father’s.”
“I must start work,” said Cadpig. “It’ll take me hours to get my thoughts over the whole country. And the Voice said there must be the old-fashioned Twilight Barking, too. Father, could you and Mother cope with that for me?”
“Willingly,” said Pongo. “But not from Downing Street. We’ll bark from Primrose Hill, as we used to.”
“Splendid,” said Cadpig, then she sent Patch for a Police Dog and gave instructions. “Clear a way for Pongo and Missis from Downing Street to Primrose Hill. All traffic lights are to remain green until they have passed.”
When this had been arranged, Pongo and Missis swooshed downstairs, out into Downing Street and then along Whitehall. (All dogs made way for them and there were many barks of “Bravo, Pongo! Wait and See!”) Soon they reached Trafalgar Square.
Pongo said, “This is where we shall be at midnight.”
“Dogs should be in their baskets at midnight,” said Missis. “Oh, Pongo, I wish it was last night! Don’t you?”
Pongo found he didn’t. He said, “Think of it this way, Missis. We’ve had many, many peaceful nights in our baskets. It’ll be fun to have just one midnight in Trafalgar Square.”
“If it is fun,” said Missis. She had felt so happy driving back to Downing Street on the Tractor, but not since she had heard that Voice. Then she reminded herself it had sounded quite kind … at first, anyway.
The last few minutes of their swoosh were across Regent’s Park. That afternoon Missis hadn’t had much chance to look at it. Now she liked remembering how often she and Pongo and the Dearlys had walked here when they were young married couples.
They crossed the Outer Circle and swooshed to the top of Primrose Hill. Pongo said, “How different everything is now, from when we barked to get news of our puppies. Then it was bitterly cold—you wore your beautiful blue coat. And the trees in the park were bare.”
“It’s hard to remember them bare,” said Missis, looking down at the leafy tree-tops.
By now it was early twilight. The air was still soft and warm and there still wasn’t a breath of wind.
“We must start barking,” said Pongo. “Real barking, this time.”
It was quite a while since they had joined in the Twilight Barking. Except in emergencies, as when the puppies had been stolen, it was only a gossip chain, a way in which dogs could talk to their friends. There was so much gossip always going on inside the walls of Hell Hall that the dogs there seldom barked to the outside world. If the General wanted a word with the Dalmatians he usually strolled along to see them. So Pongo and Missis were out of practice and a little worried in case their barking did not carry.
And at first they had reason to worry, for when they gave the three sharp barks which signalled that an important message was coming, no dog answered.
“We must bark louder,” said Pongo.
So they tried again. They barked to the north, they barked to the south, they barked to the east and west. Still no dog answered.
“We simply mustn’t fail Cadpig,” said Pongo. “She’s depending on us. Once again, Missis. And this time we’ll make a special effort to the north. There was a splendid Great Dane over toward Hampstead who used to be a great help.”
Again they tried—never in her life had Missis barked so loud. Still there was no answer. But they went on and on. And at last, floating through the summer twilight, came a great, booming bark.
“He’s still there,” cried Pongo. “He’s still there and he’s heard us!”
“Can I believe my ears?” boomed the Great Dane. “Is it really my old friends Pongo and Missis, after all this time, and on this most extraordinary day when the barking-chain has been at its worst. All the
se new-fangled thought waves have been so confusing.”
Pongo said anxiously, “But you have had the thought waves, sir? You know what’s been happening?”
“Well, yes. But thought waves are so vague. And there are no set times for standing by to receive messages. Much as I admire your daughter, I wish she wouldn’t toss her thoughts into the air just when the mood strikes her. And I can’t make head nor tail of what she’s sending out from Downing Street this evening. Why are dogs to go to Trafalgar Square? Why doesn’t Cadpig say?”
“Because she doesn’t know,” said Pongo, and then told the Great Dane about the Voice, and how it had said that Twilight Barking must be used for dogs who couldn’t receive thought waves.
“Well, that’s sensible, at least,” said the Great Dane. “And you’d better leave the whole job to me. I’ve had firm promises from friends north, south, east and west, to be standing by for Twilight Barking, thought waves or no thought waves. Now let’s get it clear. Cadpig said dogs in large towns are to go to town-hall squares or public parks. Country-town dogs go to market places. Dogs in villages and deep country go to open spaces, village greens or tops of hills. Everyone to be there by midnight. Right?”
“Exactly right,” said Pongo. “And you, yourself, will join us in Trafalgar Square?”
“Oh, I couldn’t come all that way. I’m no longer a chicken.”
“But it’s easy if you swoosh, sir. Have you got the knack?”
The Great Dane said he’s swooshed around the lawn a bit, but a dog of his weight felt a fool floating on air, and he’d just step out on Hampstead Heath at midnight. “That’s a perfectly good open space. Now clear the line, will you? I’ve got a big job to do if I’m to get the barking chain started in every direction.”
“Good luck,” barked Pongo; then signed off.
Missis said, “What did he mean when he said he was no longer a chicken? Was he ever a chicken?”
Pongo laughed. “It was just an expression, Missis. He meant he was no longer young.”