Lady

  A little later, the front door opened and Adam came in. He called hello to Mum and Dad, and straightaway asked if they’d heard anything.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Mum in a dead, flat voice. I wondered if Dad was putting his arm around her shoulder like he used to in the old days. Then, the old guilts came flooding back again like a flock of birds. Maybe now that I was gone, they’d get back together. Maybe it was me who had driven them apart. Maybe Adam was asking if I’d been found in the hope that they’d found my dead body …

  ‘Stop torturing yourself,’ I growled to myself. Things were bad enough – why make it worse? As if everything was going to be all right for everyone else just because I wasn’t there! As if I was that important! I made up my mind, even though I was just a dog, that from then on I was going to behave in a grown-up manner and do whatever I could to make the best of things. What was the point of feeling sorry for myself? I had to learn to cope with things the way they were.

  What could I do to show them who I was? They wouldn’t be able to recognise my voice, but maybe my handwriting would be all right. Why not? I jumped up to try it straightaway, but of course I couldn’t even open the drawer to get at my pens and crayons. I found a lipstick on the desk, so I tried that, wedging it between my toes, but of course it didn’t work. I simply didn’t have the muscles. I tried to hold it in my mouth – that was better, but the results were still disappointing. My handwriting was worse than ever.

  I realised that I could never tell them who I was: I’d have to show them. The thing was, I told myself, to refuse to behave like a dog. If I was going to be human, I had to behave like a human being. I had to be Sandra Francy.

  Up till now I’d just given in. I’d been behaving like a dog – how did I expect to change? Well, from now on I vowed that I was going to do nothing that dogs do. No more cats, no more eating off the ground, no more hunting. No more peeing and crapping in public, I was going to use the toilet. No more going naked; I would wear clothes. No more barking and growling – I was going to use human speech even if I made a complete fool of myself. I’d brush my teeth, wash my hair and clip my toe nails. I’d watch TV and read books. I’d even start my studies again – my school books were all here in my room. I could still learn, even though I was a dog. I was going to do everything the way people do it. Terry couldn’t make me human, neither could my parents. I had to do it myself.

  Looking back, it seems naïve of me to think that being human was just about how you eat your dinner, or how often you brush your teeth, or what clothes and make-up you wear. Being human is more than that. It’s about responsibility, about caring for people, about priorities, about respecting yourself. All that stuff. But it was a start. Maybe just the act of trying so hard to convince people of what I was like inside was something human in itself.

  I jumped down off the desk and ran to my chest of drawers. It was a new one, fortunately, with the drawers on runners, so they were quite easy to open. There inside were all my clothes, although how I was ever going to get them on I didn’t know. I dug about with my mouth and dumped them on the carpet – my T-shirts, my knickers, my tights, my jeans and skirts and tops. Then, for the first time in weeks, I got dressed.

  I did the T-shirt first, holding the sides with my paws and pushing my head in. That was hard enough, but the knickers were horrendous. I had to spread them out on the floor, stand in the leg holes and then pull them up with my teeth. It reminded me of some horrible bloke at school teasing me by saying that I’d had my knickers off for so long, I’d forgotten how to put them on. He didn’t know how right he was! It took me ages, but I did it. Then I tried to do the same with my tights, but that was just too hard. I had to keep doing little jumps to get my feet off them, while pulling them up with my teeth at the same time. It was impossible – but I didn’t let myself get discouraged. I thought, One step at a time. Knickers today, tights tomorrow. I found my nice little stripy T-shirt, the one with the yellow and blue stripes. It used to be as tight as skin but now, of course, it was all baggy, and I thought, At least I’m losing weight! And I went, Huf, huf, huf. Laughing made me feel better. I thought, Wow, look at me, I haven’t lost my sense of humour. I was almost having a good time!

  Next, I tried to put some bottoms on. My jeans and trousers were all too long, so in the end I settled for a short black skirt I often used to wear with that top. Then I climbed back up on to the table – it was hard in all that clobber – and had a look at myself. I nearly wept. I used to be so pretty and sexy in that little skirt and that tight top. Now, I just looked ridiculous.

  I tried some make-up. Holding the lipstick down between my paws, I rubbed my black dog lips around the red stick, but it was such a hopeless mess, I licked it all off and tried again. I got better, but after several goes, I decided that make-up with a hairy face and no fingers is definitely a no-go – but I did feel that my paw skills were already getting better. I jammed the lippy between my toes and, holding myself up with one paw on the mirror, I had another go at writing. Then I jumped back on to the bed to have a look.

  ‘I am home,’ it said, in great ugly letters. It was just about legible. I was as proud as if I’d written a work of art.

  And then – well! – it was now or never. Time to introduce myself to my family.

  I opened the bolt with my teeth, then spent minutes over the difficult job of opening the door and pulling it towards me at the same time. At last, with blood in my mouth, I stepped out on to the landing. Downstairs I could hear the murmur of voices from the sitting room. They were watching TV, all together without me. I thought, How could they! But then I remembered my resolution to grow up. What did I expect them to do, spend every minute of the day weeping over me? Give up everything nice because I wasn’t there? Life goes on, Sandra, I told myself, with you or without you. It’s up to you to make sure you’re there to join in.

  I was determined to get down those stairs on two legs. I got up, balancing delicately and tried to put a foot down the first step but it was too high for my little leggies. I tried to hop down – and, disaster! I fell. I reached out with my front legs, but they got tangled in the T-shirt, and I bumped and rolled all the way down to the bottom. Ouch! What a start to my first day back as a real girl!

  Inside the lounge I could hear my mum saying, ‘What’s that?’ I jumped up quickly – I had to get into the room before they got out to see what was going on. Luckily for me, the latch to the sitting room door never quite catches, so I was able to push it open with my nose. Then, I stood up on my hind legs and walked in to greet my family.

  My mother was the first to begin screaming, followed closely by Adam and Dad, both of them bellowing like gorillas. They all leaped out of their chairs and backed into the wall. Dad had to leap right over the sofa to get back there with the others. The noise was so bad I fell forward on to all fours in fright, which made them howl all over again. Maybe they thought I was going for them.

  As I struggled to get upright, my mother was yelling, ‘Mad dog! Mad dog!’ at the top of her voice. Adam, great big hairy strong Adam, was trying to hide behind her. He was going, ‘Keep it away from me! Keep it away from me!’ in his loud, booming voice. My dad was standing in front of them with his arms spread out protectively as if I was going to try and get past him to savage them.

  ‘My God, what is it!’

  ‘It’s wearing her clothes! Oh my God! It’s wearing her clothes!’ howled my mother.

  ‘Ssssh! You’ll scare it,’ hissed my dad, and both Mum and Adam stopped howling in the same second. There was a terrified pause in which I made it back on to my hind feet and smiled at them. They all hissed in fear and backed off into the corner. It was lucky I was between them and the door, or they’d have been out and away.

  ‘It’s the same one I was telling you about,’ said my mum, in a terrified whisper. ‘The one that came here.’ She paused and then added in a horrified tone, ‘It was the same day she disappeared.’

  ‘Why’s it got her clothes on? W
hat’s going on?’ demanded Adam tearfully.

  It was time to say something. I knew from practising that ‘d’s were hard; so were ‘m’s at the beginning of words but they were easier if they were in the middle, so I tried with my brother first. I looked at him and I said,

  ‘Adam. Adam. Help.’

  It came out beautifully. Perfect! The word just fell out of my lips as clear as a bell. ‘Help’ was a bit of a mess, I admit – it sounded more like, ‘Hrwworwwap.’ But still – not bad for a dog.

  ‘It knows my name,’ said Adam, and he fainted. Almost fainted, anyway. His knees sort of gave way and he fell to the ground. My dad caught him by the elbow and steadied him. Suddenly he was about three feet tall, like a dwarf between Mum and Dad. ‘Ha, ha! Ha!’ I went. I couldn’t help being a bit pleased. That would get him back for all the times he hid behind the door and made grunting noises to scare me.

  Mum put her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘What’s happening? What sort of an animal is it?’

  I said, ‘Mum,’ but it didn’t sound anything like. I tried Dad. It came out like a little bark, but it wasn’t bad. ‘Droow, drogghw, droughwd. Hrwworp,’ I said.

  ‘What’s it saying now?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘It called you Dad,’ said Adam.

  My mother groaned. ‘It’s some sort of evil trick! Someone must have kidnapped her and they’ve trained this horrible dog to wear her clothes and speak as if it knows us.’ She stared at me wildly and then suddenly screamed, ‘I can’t take any more!’ and she fell to her knees, screaming and weeping and hacking at the air with her hands. I felt terrible – I didn’t want to do this to her. But what else could I do?

  Then Adam said, ‘Its knickers have fallen down.’

  I looked down – it was true! They were around my ankles. As I looked the skirt went down after it. They could see everything! I blushed bright red under my fur and dropped to all fours to hide myself, and the whole family immediately started screaming like maniacs. I turned round to grab the knickers and pull them up, and while my eyes were hidden, Adam made a run for the door. I had to jump dead quick and snap my teeth in order to herd him back into the room. After that there was a terrible, bizarre minute as they started screaming and running from one side of the room to the other, half trying to get out of my way, half trying to get past me, while I was trying to stand up and grab my knickers in my teeth and pull them up, while at the same time keeping them away from the door and trying to dodge my dad, who kept swinging kicks at me every time I looked away. It was just about impossible. Then I thought, What am I worrying about the knickers for? OK, I didn’t want any of them to see my hairy bits, but since I was hairy all over, what did it matter?

  I thought, Sod it, I’m going too fast. I needed to show them I was friendly.

  So I did the tricks, the dog tricks. You know the ones. You’ve seen them a hundred times before. I sat back on my bum, put my paws up under my chin, wagged my tail and whined. I waved one of my paws. It’s called begging.

  There was a pause. ‘She wants to be friends,’ said my dad.

  ‘Just get rid of it!’ shrieked Mum. But she was peeping through her fingers at me. I rolled on to my back and waved my paws in the air, trying to look cute. Me, cute! Anyone who knows me would stare at you in amazement if you told them I wanted to look cute. In fact, it was just embarrassing, rolling about with no knickers in front of them all, but what else could I do? Dad smiled and held out his hand. ‘Good girl! Good girl!’ he said. I wagged my tail and lopped my tongue out.

  ‘Be careful, she could turn again any minute,’ said Mum.

  ‘There’s a good girl!’ said Dad. He stepped gradually forward. I just lay there. At last he was close enough to bend down and tickle my tummy. I could have wept with gratitude.

  ‘She’s a good dog, not savage at all. You’re not savage, are you?’ he asked me hopefully. I whined and wagged my tail bravely and licked his hand while he made friends. Then he stood up. I followed him. He pushed me gently to one side, and gave Adam and Mum a nod at the door. They eased their way past me, out of the door. Then Dad jumped out after them and slammed the door behind him.

  ‘Call the police,’ my mum yelled. ‘Call the police and get the bloody thing put down!’

  The whole room shuddered around the slammed door. I was stunned. The first chance to get away from me and they’d taken it. They hadn’t given me a chance! But – what was the point? I didn’t blame them, how could I? I was a dog! In fact, I wasn’t even that. I was neither one thing nor the other. I was just a useless, stupid bitch, who couldn’t talk properly, couldn’t bark properly, couldn’t do anything properly.

  So this was it. Police, the cells, the dogs’ home and then put down, unless some kind family adopted me. But who was I kidding? Who was going to want a weirdo dog like me? I lay down on the floor, put my paws over my nose, and waited for the end to come.

  But my life wasn’t over yet – and help came from just where I least expected it. After about five minutes the door opened – just the slightest crack. I cocked an eye and saw my mum’s face peering in at me. I raised my eyebrows, wagged my tail slowly, but I didn’t move. I wanted to look slow. I wanted to look friendly. I wanted to look safe.

  The door opened a little more, wider … wider. She moved into the room. I dared to lift my head, still wagging my tail slowly so she knew I meant her no harm. She came in another step. Now she was standing a few feet in, with the door open behind her.

  ‘Don’t you come near me!’ she whispered. I didn’t move. She licked her lips and glanced around the room. I’ve never seen her look so pale.

  ‘Who would do such a thing?’ she whispered, as if she didn’t want anyone to know she was in there. ‘My Sandra’s clothes!’

  I slowly got to my feet, and Mum let out a little silent scream, so I backed off. I sat down and begged.

  ‘Silly tricks,’ she scoffed. She was holding her chest as if her heart might stop with fright. She glanced behind her, out of the open door. I had the idea that Dad and Adam didn’t know she was in there with me. ‘Who taught you about us?’ she said. ‘Oh, if only you could really talk!’

  I thought of trying to say something, but nothing seemed to scare my family as much as my voice. Instead, I stood on my hind legs like a person, but she didn’t like that either.

  ‘Stop it,’ she snapped. ‘Stand like a dog.’

  Obediently I went on all fours. Mum’s hand was at her mouth again, her finger inside for a nail to chew like she always did when she was anxious. Her nails were always half way down her fingers. ‘As if you could understand a single word!’ she said. I nodded my head to show that I understood everything, and she closed her eyes and shook her head violently. But she must have trusted me a little more, because she came closer. Gradually she got right up to me. I whined and she laughed.

  ‘You seem friendly enough, anyway,’ she said. Then she did a curious thing; she went to the door and closed it. Then she stood there chewing on the skin on the edge of her finger.

  ‘This is girls’ talk, isn’t it, just you and me,’ she said, with a sickly smile. ‘Gareth’s gone up with Adam to his room so we have a few minutes before the police arrive. Why not?’

  She looked sharply at me and said, ‘Sit,’ and I sat. ‘Stand,’ she said, and I stood. ‘Get up on the sofa,’ she said, and I did. ‘Turn round. Lie down.’ I did all her commands, and then came the true tests. ‘Count to three, pat your paw on the carpet,’ she said. Joyfully I patted the carpet three times. Now I knew she half believed that I was not just a dog. ‘Three times four?’ she asked. I did twelve. ‘Seven minus six?’ I did one.

  ‘Oh my God. Oh my God,’ she said. She walked twice around the room. I just sat and watched. It was all in her hands, everything was in her hands. My future. My life. Then she said, ‘What’s eight sevens?’ I just stared at her – what on earth was it? She had to do hard ones! I racked my brains and began tapping out, trying to buy time, but
she interrupted me by laughing.

  ‘Now, if you knew the answer to that, then I’d know you’re not my Sandra. Sevens were never a strong point, were they?’ But then she scowled again because she’d admitted what was on her mind. She started chewing her finger again and wandered around the room some more.

  ‘It’s not possible, of course it’s not, no matter how clever you are. Just not possible! The only thing is – how come you’re wearing the top that she always wore with that skirt? Who knew that? And how come –’ and her voice shrank down to a whisper – ‘how come you’ve got the top on back to front? Because my Sandra, she always wore it back to front. We used to have arguments about it. She liked the low back at the front because she wanted to show a bit of cleavage, and I tried to stop her but I never managed it. Now, how on earth could you know that? How could anyone know that?’

  My heart was soaring inside me! I whined and pawed the ground and nodded my head. I wanted to be able to hug her and tell her everything! I opened my jaws and I said, ‘Mum!’ But she put her hands over her ears.

  ‘Don’t talk!’ she said. ‘Answer me this instead. Listen. Listen. Me and my Sandra. Listen. Do you remember when you needed your first bra? We were all out on a shopping trip, the whole family, me, you, Julie and Adam. Do you remember? You were furious. You thought we should go into town, just you and me. A girls’ trip. You sulked all day. I thought you were being horrible, but when I realised what it was I was so sorry. So the next week I took you in on your own and bought you some clothes. Just you and me. Remember?’

  Yes, of course I remembered. I’d been really angry about that business with the bra, even though I knew she’d tried to make it up to me.