Selby's Secret (4 page)

The day of the Greater Bogusville Easter Egg Rolling Contest was a day that Selby feared and
hated more than any other day of the year. It was the day when all the children of Bogusville came to the Trifles' house to roll Easter eggs across the front lawn with their noses. It was also the day that Aunt Jetty's dreadful son Willy came to make Selby's life a living hell.

“Here he is, Selby!” Mrs Trifle said as her sister's truck pulled up and Willy jumped out dressed in his cowboy outfit and twirling a lasso
over his head. “And he wants to play with you before the egg rolling contest.”

“Crikey!” Selby thought, jumping to his feet. “I overslept. I'd better nip out through the back door and make myself scarce for the day.”

It had all started a few years before when Willy had taken one look at Selby and jumped on him, digging his heels into Selby's ribs and yelling: “Ride ‘em cowboy! Wild West Willy's come to town!” Poor Selby couldn't walk for a week.

Every year since then Selby had tried to escape from Willy. But every year he was caught and ridden around the house like a wild bull at a rodeo.

“This year,” Selby said, slipping out the back door and heading full-speed for the bush, “is going to be different. Wild West Willy won't see me for dust.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Willy's lasso caught him around the neck and brought him down like a stray calf.

“Got you, Horsey!” Willy yelled and a chill went through Selby's scalp that didn't finish till it reached the tip of his tail. “Now get up! We're going to play cowboys!”

For the next hour Selby was chased, ridden, lassoed and tied up until he was so exhausted that he had to stand perfectly still with his legs apart just to stay on his feet.

“Hold it right there, Horsey! I like it when you stand still like that,” Willy said as he hurtled through the air and landed squarely on Selby's back, sending him crashing to the ground. “Whooooooooppppeeeeeeee!” Willy yelled.

“Crumbs,” Selby sighed as Wild West Willy wrapped a rope round and round his legs. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“And now I'll try out my new branding iron,” Willy said, pulling a red hot poker with three “W"s on the end out of the barbecue.

“Heaven help me!” Selby thought. “The kid's actually going to brand me! If that thing touches me I'm a goner!”

Selby was just about to scream out, “Stop it, you idiot!” in plain English when Aunt Jetty came bounding round the corner.

“Willy!” she yelled. “Stop that this instant! You'll miss the beginning of the egg rolling contest! The children are all waiting at the start.Hurry!”

“Oh, boy. Oh, boy,” Willy said, dropping the branding iron and breaking into a run. “I'm going to win! I'm going to win the egg rolling contest again!”

“You always win, dear,” Aunt Jetty said, unwinding the rope from Selby's legs. “Hmmmmmmmm,” she said, giving him a puzzled look. “There's something strange about you. I seem to remember something … yes, now I remember. You talked. That was it! I had a dream that you talked in plain English. Isn't that a riot? Ha!”

“Some day I'll show
you
a riot, you big nit,” Selby thought, struggling to his feet as Aunt Jetty dashed off to watch the start of the egg rolling contest.

“Remember the rules,” Mrs Trifle said to the line of children who waited on their hands and knees on the wet grass. “You must push your egg straight across the lawn with your nose. No hands. And mind the puddles. The first one across the finish line wins the pavlova.”

“Oh, boy,” Willy said, pushing his way into the middle of the starting line. “I won last year
and the year before and I'm going to win again this year. So everybody out of my way or else!”

Selby stumbled around the corner just as the bell rang and the girls and boys started off across the lawn.

“Clear off!” Willy said as he knocked three boys over and made his way to the middle of the pack.

“That's the way, Willy!” Aunt Jetty cheered, jumping up and down on the sidelines. “You're faster than them! You can beat them!”

“Get out of here!” Willy said in a low voice to another boy and pushed past, until he was just behind the leader, Sally Rudge.

“Out of my way, Sally,” Willy said savagely. “I'm coming through.”

“You are not,” Sally said, nudging her egg quickly forward with her nose. “I'm faster than you and I'm going to win.”

“I'm warning you,” Willy said. “You win, and you're going to be sorry. If you win — you'll lose. So out of the way!”

A silence fell over the crowd, except for the screams of “Get her, Willy! Get her!” from Aunt Jetty. No one but his mother wanted to see
Willy win the race — and now there was only Sally and a few metres of ground between him and the finish line.

Willy closed in on Sally and then accidentally-on-purpose fell on her legs. Sally crashed down on her egg, smashing it.

“You ruined my egg!” Sally screamed as Willy passed. “That's not fair!”

“I didn't touch your silly egg,” Willy said. “Don't be a spoilsport.”

Now, with nothing between Willy and victory, Selby's anger finally got the best of him. He raced to the starting line and began pushing a spare Easter egg across the lawn at a speed that only a short, angry dog could manage.

“I'll beat that kid!” Selby said, digging his paws into the wet ground. “I've got to beat him!”

A cheer went up from the sidelines as he closed in on the cowboy. He dodged the puddles Iike a slalom skier dodging flags, but soon there was silence again, for although he had passed everyone else Willy was just centimetres from the finish line.

As he came up behind Willy, Selby whispered in a tone that only Willy could hear:
“Hey, brat! Look behind you. There's a wild stallion on your heels!”

Willy was so startled that he turned around and Selby bumped against him and knocked him head first into the biggest, muddiest puddle on the lawn and then shot by and crossed the finish line.

“That's not fair!” Willy yelled, standing up and looking like a huge chocolate icecream cone. “Horsey cheated. He talked to me. I won the race. I want the pavlova.”

Fortunately for Selby, no one — not even Aunt Jetty — believed Willy when he said that Selby had talked to him. Unfortunately, when it came to giving out the prize, Mrs Trifle gave it to Willy.

“Selby won the race,” she said. “But we can't very well give a dog a pavlova. It would only make him sick.”

“I'd eat every blinking piece of it,” Selby thought, “just to keep that brat from getting it.”

With this Selby jumped up on the table where the pavlova was and stood over it, perfectly still. Willy saw him out of the corner of his eye and suddenly the sight of Selby standing
still like a brahman bull in a chute ready to be ridden made something in him snap.

“Hold still, Horsey!” Wild West Willy yelled, forgetting about the pavlova and jumping towards Selby's waiting back. “Ride ‘em cowboy! Yaaaaaaaahhhhoooooooo!”

But before the “hoooooooo” was out of his mouth — while he was still hurtling through the air on a beeline for his victim — Selby stepped neatly out of the way and Willy landed smack in the middle of the pavlova.

“Oh, sorry, brat,” Selby whispered in Willy's ear. “Better luck next year,” and off he went to watch
The Lucky Millions Quiz Quest.

“Selby's reading the newspaper!” screamed Barnstorm Billy, dreaded son of Aunt Jetty and brother of Selby's old enemy Wild West Willy.

“Selby's only a dog,” Dr Trifle said patiently, “and dogs can't read.”

“He
is
reading!” Barnstorm Billy yelled. “I saw his eyes moving. Come quick!”

Selby lay on top of a copy of the
Bogusville Banner,
reading the ad for the Windy Scrub Roving Big Top Circus, which had just come to Bogusville. The ad said:

“Paws of steel,” Selby, who was always interested in talented dogs, muttered. “Wow! That really sends shivers up my spine. I'd love to see that act.

“Come quickly, uncle!” Barnstorm Billy yelled, dragging Dr Trifle into the lounge room. “He's reading. Look!”

Selby lay perfectly still on the newspaper with his eyes closed and pretended to sleep.

“He's not reading, Billy,” Dr Trifle said politely. “He's only sleeping. He often sleeps on the newspaper.”

“But he
was
reading. I know a reading dog when I see one,” Billy protested. “And I saw One!”

“Nobody's going to believe you, kid,” Selby thought. “And thank goodness for that.”

Selby pretended to sleep so well that soon he was really asleep. When he awoke it was evening and there was no one in the house.

“This is great,” Selby thought. “The Trifles are probably driving the brat back to Aunt Jetty's house. I think I'll just nip over to the Windy Scrub Circus to check out Barney the Balancing Miracle Dog.”

Selby waited behind the circus tent till he saw a trainer leading three elephants and two camels into the back entrance.

“I'll just sneak in with this lot,” he thought as he trotted along into the darkness beside one of the elephants, “and no one will notice. There are times when it pays not to be human.”

Just then a strong pair of hands reached out and grabbed him.

“Hey, Eliot!” the voice said. “I've got the dog.”

“What dog is that, Ian?” another voice answered.

“The one from the agency. He's replacing Barney the Balancing Miracle Dog.”

“What happened to Barney?”

“He fell off the wire. Broke all four legs. Luckily he hit a camel on the way down.”

“One hump or two?”

“Two, fortunately. One hump and he would have been history,” the man said. “Quick. Help me get him into this basket. He's on right now.”

Before Selby could bite or scratch or even scream out in plain English, he found himself in an open basket being lifted by a rope to the very top of the gigantic tent. Music played and the crowd cheered as the basket reached the tiny platform at one end of the highwire. Then Fred Ferguson, of the Flying Fergusons, tipped him out of the basket. Selby took one look down and held tight to Fred as the crowd went quiet and a drum roll started.

“Get out there, dog,” Fred said in a loud whisper as he pulled the clinging Selby loose and pushed him towards the wire.

“No way!” Selby thought, grabbing a long balancing pole in his teeth to make it harder for Fred to push him. “I'll just play dumb till they realise their mistake. There's no way I'm going out on that wire.”

“They've sent us another hopeless dog, Frieda,” Fred Ferguson whispered across to the woman on the platform at the other end of the wire. “What can we do?”

“You could give him a good shove,” Frieda suggested. “But it's no good if he doesn't feel up to it. He'll only fall and make a mess and put everyone off their fairy-floss.”

“Crikey!” Selby thought, swallowing hard and covering his eyes with one paw. “Put them off their fairy-floss! How do I get into these things?”

Just then there was a yell from the audience. “It's him, uncle!” Barnstorm Billy shouted. “It's Selby! He reads newspapers and he does circus tricks! Look!”

“Oh, no, they've brought the brat to the circus,” Selby said, peering down into the darkness.

And in the silence, Selby heard Dr Trifle say, “You're right. It
is
Selby! But it can't be. Selby's no acrobat. Besides, he's too old to walk a highwire.”

“I'm a goner,” Selby thought. “If I don't walk the wire the Trifles will know it's me. They'll believe Barnstorm Billy. They'll know I was reading the newspaper. My secret will be out and … and … and then what? They'll be happy at first. I'll be welcomed into the family
fold and I'll sit at the table at dinnertime. But then what? Then it will be: ‘Selby, dear, do you mind answering the phone while we're out?' and ‘Selby, dear, would you mind popping down to the shops?' and ‘Today we're going to show you how to use the lawnmower'. Gulp. I don't want to answer the telephone or do the shopping or mow the blinking lawn! What do they think I am, their slave? I'll have to go out on that wire. I'll have to convince them it's not me up here.”

With this, Selby put one foot out on the wire and the crowd roared.

“Where's that bloomin' two-humped camel?” Selby thought, putting another foot onto the wire and then another. “One more foot on the wire and there will be no turning back. I think I can, I think I can …”

Fear gripped Selby's head like a vice as his fourth foot stepped onto the wire and sweat began to drip from his chin.

“I'll show them,” he thought as he began his walk across the wire.

Halfway across, Frieda motioned with her hands for him to stand on his hind legs.

“You've got to be kidding, lady,” Selby muttered to himself. “I was born with four legs and I'm going to use every one of them.”

Just then Fred Ferguson jumped out on the wire and Selby lost his balance and dropped his balancing pole into the darkness below, narrowly missing a two-humped camel. He teetered back and forth on his hind legs as the audience screamed and Barnstorm Billy cried out, “Goody goody, he's going to fall!”

Then, with a sudden burst of energy born of terror, Selby dashed along the wire on his hind legs and leaped into Frieda's waiting arms.

On his way down in the basket the whole audience was on its feet cheering and stamping and Selby's fear turned to pride. He stood on his hind legs and bowed to the roaring crowd.

When he reached the ground he tore into the crowd to avoid the trainers and made his escape through a hole in the tent. As he passed Barnstorm Billy and the Trifles he heard Mrs Trifle say: “What a dog! What a brilliant and talented dog! He looks like Selby but he can't be.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” Selby said when he was safely at home lying in front of the TV watching
The Lucky Millions Quiz Quest.
“I may not have paws of steel but I've got more talent in my big toe than Billy has in his whole body.”