Sky Wolves (30 page)

‘That’s my boy!’ said Gordon, ruffling Gentleman Jim’s ears in exactly the way he liked. ‘We’ve missed that noise!’

Then, after he’d eaten it all up, every scrap, Maureen said, ‘You look tired, Gentleman Jim. What you need is a nice lie-down on your bed.’

She led him upstairs to the old bed with the comfortable old mattress that had bumps and hollows in it which were exactly the shape of Gentleman Jim. Then, after a nice long sleep, Gordon and Maureen took him out for his evening constitutional. Maureen insisted that he wear the coat she had made for him, since it was still a little chilly in the evenings and she didn’t want him catching cold. Gordon laughed at her.

‘I swear you think more of that dog than me,’ he said.

‘Nonsense,’ said Maureen, but she gave Gentleman Jim a little squeeze that suggested that Gordon might really be right, and they set off together towards the croft.

And as they walked Gentleman Jim remembered that all this was true and not a dream. He lived with two people who thought the world of him, who cared for him more
than they cared for anyone or anything else. He had come home at last.

Boris slid all the way to the bottom of his street and lay there, stunned for a moment. He closed his eyes while the whole world seemed to shake itself like a wet dog. When he opened them again he was facing his front door.

Boris experienced the familiar feeling of not understanding what was going on.

Door,
he thought slowly. He had a feeling of wariness about it that he didn’t understand, but after a moment he went right up to it and barked.

Mr and Mrs Finnegan hurried to greet him. ‘Boris!’ they cried together, and they made an enormous fuss of him as he plodded past them to the kitchen.

His food bowl was empty, but Mrs Finnegan said that she’d soon put that right – she’d cook something for him straight away. Boris’s ears went down at this, for reasons he couldn’t understand, but he waited patiently in the lounge while Mr Finnegan hugged him and played tug-of-war with him and his favourite toy. And then minutes later, when Mrs Finnegan called that food was ready and Boris went into the kitchen with a sinking feeling in his stomach but determined to be brave, there in his bowl was the biggest, juiciest steak he had ever seen!

Despite his hunger, Boris sniffed at it several times before nibbling it cautiously, sure that there was something about Mrs Finnegan and food that he had to be wary about. But he really couldn’t remember what and soon he was overwhelmed by the glorious, meaty smell, so he wolfed the steak down in a single bite.

Mrs Finnegan fondled him lovingly.

‘I’ve put the baby in the back room for now,’ she said. ‘I thought you might like to watch some telly with us.’

So Boris sat between Mr and Mrs Finnegan in the front room, and they all watched the comedy programmes together, and Boris even got the jokes. For the first time in many months he felt really at home.

Checkers clambered slowly out of the pile of refuse. The garbage truck seemed to have gone and with it his memories of the Apocalypse. But he felt a bit bruised and stiff and, well,
sober
for the first time in his life. His coat seemed heavier than usual, matted with dust and mud and rubble. He shook his ears and a mouse flew out. Then he limped slowly and painfully towards his house. He had the feeling that he might be in trouble, but he really couldn’t remember why. Something told him he was always in trouble.

The door was partly open when he reached his house. Freda was on the settee, eating an apple and reading a magazine. She hardly looked up as Checkers passed, but reached out and patted him gently. ‘Good boy,’ she said, and Checkers managed a muffled ‘woof’.

He went upstairs to where John was working on the computer. Checkers had a bad memory about the computer, but he couldn’t remember what, and it seemed to be working fine now. John reached out and scratched Checkers behind the ears.

‘Hello, Checkers, old son,’ he said. Then he looked at the muck on his fingers. ‘My goodness,’ he said, ‘where’ve you been? Do you need a bath?’

Checkers tensed immediately, ready to do battle, but
John, noticing this, said, ‘It’s all right, old boy. You don’t have to have a bath if you don’t want one.’

I don’t?
thought Checkers, considerably surprised. Something told him he was always having baths whether he wanted them or not.

‘You’re not looking quite yourself,’ John said, lifting Gheckers’s face and searching for his eyes among all the hair. ‘Why don’t you come and sit down with me and Freda?’

So Checkers followed John into the lounge and sat down on the settee, and John and Freda petted him in spite of all the dirt and didn’t try to make him sit on a plastic sheet, and Checkers felt so relieved by all this that he promptly ate a cushion. Then he looked anxiously at his owners, but they only laughed and shook their heads.

‘What’s a bit of soft furnishing between friends?’ John said. ‘Quality of life, that’s what matters,’ he added, slinging an arm around Checkers’s muddy coat.

Then Freda brought a box of biscuits from the kitchen, and they all sat together and ate the lot, dropping crumbs everywhere and feeling comfortable, safe and warm.

Flo stared around in confusion. Where had all the wolves gone? Everything had returned to normal and she seemed to be on the croft. Had she imagined everything? As she turned around slowly, feeling mystified, it occurred to her that she could no longer remember whatever it was she might have been imagining. There were flashing images in her mind, but they were fading, and they didn’t make sense. Something funny was going on, but she really didn’t know what.

Then someone called her name.

‘Flo?’ the voice called. ‘Flo!’

And when she turned around slowly once more, Flo could see Myrtle Sowerbutts approaching her from the other side of the croft.

Myrtle?
thought Flo. Because one thing she seemed to remember was that Myrtle never left the house. Yet here she was, walking in a slightly unsteady way, towards Flo.

‘Oh, you darling dog!’ cried Myrtle. ‘Come to Mumsy right now!’

And she threw her arms around Flo and clipped the lead on to her collar.

‘Where have you been, my darling poodle-doodle?’ she cooed. ‘And whatever’s happened to your bee-yootiful coat?’

When Flo didn’t reply, she said, ‘Never mind, darling. We’ll get home and give you a nice hot bath!’

And Flo, who didn’t mind baths at all, felt that this was, in fact, exactly what she needed. But Myrtle kept talking to her as they walked.

‘We’re going to go for lots of walkie-poos together from now on,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing like fresh air for expanding the lungs.’

Then she said, ‘I’m not sure that pink’s the right colour for us, Flo. So I’m going to let you return to your own natural, gorgeous colour. And I shall only wear white from now on! I’m going to look just like you!’

Flo let Myrtle talk on. She was hardly listening. She felt a mind-numbing tiredness creeping over her, yet as they approached the house and Myrtle let them in, all the old anxiety returned. She had a vivid, flashing memory of
something terrible and ginger and frightening, with horrid teeth and claws.

‘You’ll never guess what’s happened to Henry,’ Myrtle said, walking ahead of Flo into the kitchen. ‘I sold him, while you were out, to a TV company that makes horror films for pets! They were looking for something orange and mean, and Henry fitted the bill perfectly. They promised to take frightfully good care of him and they paid me quite a lot. So there you are. It’s just the two of us from now on.’

Flo felt a wave of astonished delight. Tremulous with gratitude and fatigue, she made her way over to her bed. She was back in her own home and she needn’t worry about the dreadful beast that used to stalk it. She wondered briefly whether she had in fact died and gone to heaven. Tired but very, very happy, she sank down on her bed in front of the fire, while Myrtle ran her a bath.

Finally Pico got the plant pot off him. He struggled out and looked around. Everything had changed. Or rather, nothing had changed. Everything was as it was before – before…

Well,
something
had happened, but he really couldn’t remember what.

And now he seemed to be on the croft, but none of his friends were there.

Pico felt quite exhausted from doing something, though again he wasn’t sure what. Home seemed a long way away, over dark and dangerous terrain. Nonetheless, there was nothing for it, so he set off bravely in what he hoped was the right direction, pushing his way through clumps of grass like jungles and molehills that were exactly like mountains.
He might have lost heart, but fortunately, he hadn’t gone very far when he heard Aunty Dot calling for him.

Pico sprang to attention immediately. He opened his mouth and gave his biggest ever bark. ‘WOOF!’ and then ‘WOOFF!’ again. Aunty Dot came pedalling towards him on her bike. She scooped him up and petted him briefly before putting him into her basket.

And that was it. Pico went back to exactly the same life he’d had before. A life in which he was loved, but not overly petted, and sometimes forgotten about. A life in which he often got stuck in wastepaper baskets or handbags, and in which he peered out at the world from the window ledge or from Aunty Dot’s bicycle basket or from Aunty Lilith’s sleeve.

Yet inside Pico, everything had changed.

He had no direct memory of having helped to save the world, yet he felt that within him he had distant horizons, and marvellous deeds. Stars blazed inside him and a whole universe was in his heart. In his dreams he wandered along the Milky Way, with comets shooting past and galaxies bursting into existence, and he felt a vast contentment about his own small life.

As for Sam, once he had finished blowing the great horn, he handed it back to Aunty Lilith, who threw it as far as she could, until the air closed around it silently. Then he tucked Jenny under one arm and set off home with his aunts.

‘Mu – um,’ he called when he got there. ‘We’re back! Jenny’s home!’

And indeed Jenny felt that she was.

∗

Life quickly went back to normal and after Sam’s first day back at school Aunty Dot called by to take her for a walk.

All around her was the croft and it was just as she remembered it. She lifted her nose and sniffed, searching the air for the scents of her friends.

Boris was out with Mr and Mrs Finnegan, who were pushing baby Sean in his buggy. They were joined by Gordon and Maureen, who were spending quality time with Gentleman Jim. Boris and Gentleman Jim stood together talking, while their humans chased a ball around the field. They were soon joined by Flo, who was walking Myrtle. Myrtle seemed so keen on the outdoor life these days that it was hard to keep her in. Flo joined Gentleman Jim and Boris, and moments later Checkers arrived with Freda and John, who had taken a break from doing his reports. There were more important things than money and work to think about, he said. There was Checkers!

And finally Pico came trotting along in front of Aunty Lilith, since there was no longer any nonsense about him not being allowed to walk on the streets. The five dogs greeted one another rapturously, like the great friends they were. None of them remembered exactly the great events in which they had taken part, yet they all felt somehow, in spite of their near-perfect happiness, as though something was missing from their lives.

Pico saw the strange dog first. He trotted over to her, slowly at first, sure that he remembered her scent. Then gradually he picked up speed, until he was running as fast as a Chihuahua can, while Jenny waited for him with her head on one side.

‘Jenny!’ cried Pico, and he knew all of a sudden what
the great gap in his heart had been. Then for a few moments everything was a blur, as Pico bounced up and down towards Jenny, and Jenny wagged her tail so hard it could hardly be seen. Finally, Pico raised his nose to hers.

‘Little friend,’ she said to him, ‘your body is small, but your heart is great. You have seen distant horizons and done marvellous deeds. In this new world, you can show other dogs that they too can dream of greatness.’

And though Pico had forgotten the old world and his big adventure, as Jenny looked into his eyes, she could see the glimmerings of memory, like a star.

Then Gentleman Jim came over to sniff her.

‘Well, hello,’ he said slowly, and he thumped his great tail once, twice, against the bole of a tree. ‘Jenny, isn’t it?’

The small white dog raised her nose up to Gentleman Jim.

‘Dear friend,’ she said, ‘born hunter – your instincts are keen and you have used them well. This new world owes you more than you know, and now you can show other dogs how to use their instincts for the benefit of all.’

‘Hrrrrummpphh!’ said Gentleman Jim, suddenly feeling within him the blood of his ancestors, fierce and swift. Then he stooped and licked Jenny on the nose, and she realized that while so much had faded from his memory, no dog ever truly forgets.

‘My turn! My turn!’ said Checkers, bounding up, but Boris was standing patiently behind and she turned to him first.

‘Dear Boris, natural guardian and protector, you defended the whole world from danger and now this new world needs you to go on protecting and guarding its young.’

‘I did – didn’t I?’ said Boris, as a spark of memory dimly returned.

‘Me – me!’ said Checkers, bounding around in a circle.

‘Checkers, natural warrior,’ the little dog said, ‘you have accomplished great things by using your gift of courage. In this new world there may still be battles to be fought, and both people and dogs will need to be brave. You can show them courage.’

‘That’s me!’ said Checkers, dashing around again. ‘The bravest dog that ever lived!’

‘WOOF!’ said Pico.

But Flo was waiting, overwhelmed by the memories that were flooding back, because out of all the dogs her memory was the most keen.

‘Dearest Flo,’ Jenny said, ‘your wisdom and your perception helped to overcome the enemy. In this new world the young will need your guidance, which you can freely give, because you have been set free.’