Paws and Whiskers (33 page)

‘You have just come home from Paris,’ said I.

‘Yes,’ said she. ‘Have you ever been there?’

‘No.’

‘Oh! I hope you’ll go soon. You would like it so much!’

Traces of deep-seated anguish appeared in my countenance. That she should hope I would go, that she should think it possible I
could
go, was insupportable. I depreciated Paris; I depreciated France. I said I wouldn’t leave England, under existing circumstances, for any earthly consideration. Nothing should induce me. In short, she was shaking the curls
again, when the little dog came running along the walk to our relief.

He was mortally jealous of me, and persisted in barking at me. She took him up in her arms – oh my goodness! – and caressed him, but he insisted upon barking still. He wouldn’t let me touch him, when I tried; and then she beat him. It increased my sufferings greatly to see the pats she gave him for punishment on the bridge of his blunt nose, while he winked his eyes, and licked her hand, and still growled within himself like a little double-bass. At length he was quiet – well he might be with her dimpled chin upon his head! – and we walked away to look at a greenhouse.

‘You are not very intimate with Miss Murdstone, are you?’ said Dora. ‘My pet!’

(The two last words were to the dog. Oh, if they had only been to me!)

‘No,’ I replied. ‘Not at all so.’

‘She is a tiresome creature,’ said Dora, pouting. ‘I can’t think what Papa can have been about, when he chose such a vexatious thing to be my companion. Who wants a protector! I am sure
I
don’t want a protector. Jip can protect me a great deal better than Miss Murdstone, – can’t you, Jip dear?’

He only winked lazily, when she kissed his ball of a head.

‘Papa calls her my confidential friend, but I am sure she is no such thing – is she, Jip? We are not going to confide in any such cross people, Jip and I. We mean to bestow our confidence where we like, and to find out our own friends, instead of having them found out for us – don’t we, Jip?’

Jip made a comfortable noise, in answer, a little like a tea-kettle when it sings. As for me, every word was a new heap of fetters, rivetted above the last.

‘It is very hard, because we have not a kind Mama, that we are to have, instead, a sulky, gloomy old thing like Miss Murdstone, always following us about – isn’t it, Jip? Never mind, Jip. We won’t be confidential, and we’ll make ourselves as happy as we can in spite of her, and we’ll tease her, and not please her, – won’t we, Jip?’

If it had lasted any longer, I think I must have gone down on my knees on the gravel, with the probability before me of grazing them, and of being presently ejected from the premises besides. But, by good fortune the greenhouse was not far off, and these words brought us to it.

It contained quite a show of beautiful geraniums.
We loitered along in front of them, and Dora often stopped to admire this one or that one, and I stopped to admire the same one, and Dora, laughing, held the dog up childishly, to smell the flowers; and if we were not all three in Fairyland, certainly
I
was. The scent of a geranium leaf, at this day, strikes me with a half comical, half serious wonder as to what change has come over me in a moment; and then I see a straw hat and blue ribbons, and a quantity of curls, and a little black dog being held up, in two slender arms, against a bank of blossoms and bright leaves.

I read at least a hundred Enid Blyton titles between the ages of six and eight. They were such easy-to-read, comforting books. I could take an armful out of the library, race through them all in a week or so, and then rush back for more. I read about strange folk who lived in magic trees, girls in boarding schools, gangs of children having extraordinary adventures, and colourful circus stories.

One of my favourite Blyton books was
Shadow, the Sheep-Dog.
I was given it as a birthday present when I was seven and read it over and over again. It’s an ordinary enough story about a boy called Johnny who lives on a farm and has his own collie sheep-dog, but it seemed wonderfully exciting to me. I’d have given
anything to live in the country in those days – and I particularly wanted my own dog.

Shadow is called a Wonder Dog in the story, and he’s almost impossibly clever, brave and loyal. That’s the whole charm of the story. You don’t ever have to worry reading an Enid Blyton book. You know that things will always work out well eventually in her reassuring fictional world. Shadow will unerringly rescue Johnny, and find the lost lamb, and chase off the rats and the fox and the eagle. When a rich American wants to buy Shadow to turn him into a film star like Lassie, and little Johnny is prepared to let him go to save his father’s farm, it gets a little tense, especially when there’s an unfortunate accident and poor Shadow is nearly blinded. However, this means he isn’t shipped off to Hollywood after all and, surprise surprise, he makes a complete recovery.

If you fancy reading the whole story when you’ve read this extract, I’m sure you’ll be able to find an old copy in a second-hand bookshop.

SHADOW, THE SHEEP-DOG

Johnny Gets into Trouble

One Saturday, when Johnny had a holiday from school, he wanted to go nutting on High-Over Hill with the other boys.

‘But you can’t possibly walk there!’ said his mother.

‘I could borrow Will’s bike,’ said Johnny. ‘I can ride a bike. Let me go, Mother. It will be such fun.’

His father looked up from the newspaper he was reading.

‘High-Over Hill is dangerous,’ he said. ‘I remember your uncle falling down the steep side of it when he went nutting as a boy – and he broke his leg. If you go, you must keep on the west side – that’s not dangerous.’

‘All right, Dad,’ said Johnny, beaming. ‘Can I borrow Will’s bike, then?’

‘Yes, if you take care of it, and clean it when you come back,’ said his father. ‘You must remember that if you borrow things you must always return them clean and in good condition.’

‘Can I take Shadow with me?’ asked Johnny.

‘No,’ said his father. ‘Shadow has work to do with the sheep this morning – and anyway I don’t want him running along the roads all the way to High-Over Hill. It’s too far.’

‘But Shadow wouldn’t mind,’ said Johnny, looking sad all of a sudden, for he hated spending a day without Shadow. ‘Shadow would like it. Oh, please give him a holiday too, Dad!’

‘Shadow is already at work,’ said the farmer, nodding towards the window.

Johnny looked out. Sure enough, he could see Shadow on the far hill, running with the other dogs, separating the sheep out into little flocks for the shepherd. Some were to go to market that day, and
the dogs were helping to bunch the sheep.

Johnny said no more. He had been taught not to argue with his parents. He thought he would get Will’s bike, and then he would go up to the hill where Shadow was at work, and explain to him that he couldn’t take him with him that day.

Will was one of the farm-hands. He was quite willing to lend Johnny his bike, for the boy was careful. Johnny looked to see if the brakes were all right, thanked Will, and then jumped on the bike. Off he went, cycling up the path that led to the hill where the sheep were grazing.

Shadow came bounding to meet him. He had already seen Johnny that morning, for he had slept on the boy’s bed the night before. But when he had heard the shepherd whistling to the other dogs he had licked Johnny’s sleepy face, and had run out of the door. He was Johnny’s dog – but he had to work for his living just as the other dogs did!

‘Shadow, I’m going off for the day,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m going nutting.’

Shadow looked at Johnny and the bike. He understood quite well what the boy meant. He wagged his plumy tail joyfully. How he loved going off for the day with Johnny!

‘Don’t look so pleased about it,’ said Johnny. ‘I’ve
got to go without you. You can’t come today, Shadow. I’ve just come up here to say goodbye to you. I’ll be back by tea-time.’

Shadow’s tail drooped down. All the wag went out of it. What – Johnny was going off without him! He looked up at the boy with mournful brown eyes.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Shadow,’ said Johnny, ‘else I shan’t be able to go. You see, Dad says you have work to do today. So I can’t have you with me. But cheer up – I’ll be back by tea-time. I promise!’

Shadow wagged his tail just a tiny bit. He was very sad – but he didn’t want to stop Johnny from having a happy day. The shepherd whistled to the dogs, and Shadow had to bound off. He licked Johnny’s hand, barked to tell him to be sure and have a good day, and then leapt off to join Tinker and Rafe.

Johnny rode over the hill on his bicycle. He soon joined the other boys, and they shouted to one another.

‘Gorgeous day!’ yelled Ronnie.

‘What have you got for your lunch?’ shouted Harry. ‘I’ve got ham sandwiches, and the biggest bit of chocolate cake you ever saw.’

‘Have you all brought baskets for the nuts?’ said Johnny. ‘I’ve got one. I hope I get it full. My dad loves hazel nuts. He eats them with salt.’

The boys rode off together happily. It was a long way to High-Over Hill, but it was quite the best place for nutting. There were hundreds of fine nut-trees there.