Dash and Dingo (46 page)

“No worries,” Henry said. He stooped and picked up the carton.

“Cheerio.”

Walking down the hallway for the last time, and then down the stairs, Henry felt a moment of sadness, not so much for the place or the people, but for the relics of the tiger he left behind. He’d spent so much time with them, holding the pelt in his hands, stroking the fur, dreaming of an improbable animal in an improbable land.
That
would be what he missed most out of his mingy job.

But then he realized that the memories of actually seeing the tiger, smelling it, watching the family together in the wild, was an experience that

294 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy

could never be taken from him. The musty pelts could remain behind within the archives of the college. He had witnessed the tiger in person, something that, tragically, would most likely prove all too rare in the coming years.

The thought of what his father would say about all this didn’t deter him at all. Henry felt that after today’s adventure, his father’s disapproval would never affect him quite the same way.

It was a good thing he was a frugal man, Henry thought, as he unlocked the door to his flat. It would be some months before he was forced to figure out what he was going to do next. He had always refused an allowance from his father, although his father had seemed to think that the modest way he lived was not at all suitable for a Percival-Smythe.

He locked the door behind him and turned on the fire before taking off his dripping hat and coat and hanging them in the hallway. He dug out the rock painting and settled into his chair, staring dreamily into the fire, holding the weight of the stone upon his lap, stroking over the stripes of the mythical animal.

He wondered what Dingo was doing now. And when he would ever see him again. The man had gotten into his blood, and Henry was suddenly stricken with a grief he’d been staving off ever since his return. Their lives had been inextricably bound together, not only by the sharing of their bodies, but by each owing the other his very life, several times over.

The surge of power that had carried him through the morning now deserted him, and Henry sagged in his chair, leaning his head against the cushioned back, feeling that he’d give anything to hear Dingo’s voice once again.

Just then the phone rang, and Henry put his rock painting carefully onto the table by his elbow. He picked up the phone, expecting the worst: his father in a cold rage, his mother ready to induce guilt with her lachrymose reproaches, possibly Professor Larwood, threatening recriminations for making off with college property.

Instead, the line crackled with a voice with an Australian accent.

“Dash! How are you, old man?”

“Dingo!” Henry gasped. “Dingo!”

“Ready for another adventure?”

“Too right,” said Dash.

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Catt Ford

Sean Kennedy

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Catt Ford lives in front of the computer monitor, in another world where her imaginary gay friends obey her every command. She likes cats, chocolate, swing dancing, sleeping, Monty Python, Aussie friends, being silly, spinning other realities with words, and sea glass. She dislikes caterpillars, cigarette smoke, and rude people who think the F-word (as in faggot, or bundle of sticks) is acceptable. A frustrated perfectionist, she comforts herself with the legend about the weavers of Persian rugs always including one mistake so as not to anger the gods, although she has no need to include a mistake on purpose. One always slips through. Writing fiction has filled a need for clever conversations, only possible when one is in control of both sides, and erotic romances, where everything for the most part turns out happily ever after.

Visit Catt’s blog at http://catt-ford.livejournal.com/.

Sean Kennedy lives in the second-most isolated city in the world, so it’s just as well he has his imagination for company when real-life friends are otherwise occupied. He has far too many ideas and wishes he had the power to feed them directly from his brain into the laptop so they won’t get lost in the ether.

Visit Sean’s web site at http://www.seankennedybooks.com/.