Читать книгу The Last Family in England - Matt Haig - Страница 43

smell-heap

That evening, Adam was still not in stick-throwing mood, no matter how many I dropped at his feet. Instead, he went over and sat on the empty park bench.

I kept a close watch while sniffing my way around the damp flowerbeds. He was looking at the big new house, its windows glowing orange in the dark. But then, suddenly, he flinched away. A door closed.

Someone was coming.

I stood, motionless, and observed as a dog emerged from one side of the house, leading a woman to the gate in the fence separating their garden from the park. With the gate closed behind them, the woman unclipped the dog. The dog, not having noticed me, flew off towards the oak trees and the smell-heap behind. Of more interest was the woman, who was taking slow, but deliberate, steps towards the bench.

Adam, I could see, was making an anxious effort to look relaxed. He leaned back. Then forward. Then back again, resting an elbow on the top of the bench.

I can’t remember what was going through my mind as I jogged over to join them. I certainly had no idea that this was a turning point, the start of my true mission and the battles which it involved.

Lying down in front of them I could take it all in. I could take her all in. It was the smell that first hit me. It wasn’t her natural scent, of course, but a bizarre mixture of perfume and something else. Something strong enough to make me feel slightly dizzy.

But Adam wouldn’t notice. He’d notice how she looked. I knew that, even then. And so, how did she look? By human standards, I suppose she was attractive. Long hair, as golden as Henry’s. Large, puppy-dog eyes. Her skin was tight and glowed with health. She must have been half his age.

I sat up and waited with him by the bench. Not because I was particularly worried. I wasn’t. It’s just that you have to be careful, don’t you, not to breach the Pact. But the thing is, from the moment I had made my decision to wait with Adam and the woman, I realised I had made a mistake. Rather than protecting him from any potential threat of conversation, I realised I had given her an excuse to lean over, stroke the back of my neck, and say: ‘Wow! She’s a lovely dog, isn’t she? What’s her name?’

‘Yes, yes. She is, isn’t she,’ Adam paused, as if making a silent calculation. ‘Actually, it’s a he. Well, a half-he. He’s had the –’ He completed the sentence with a mime of scissors snipping the air.

The woman laughed. ‘Oh poor thing, poor –’

‘Prince, he’s called Prince.’

I tried my best not to encourage further conversation and focused instead on the woman’s dog, who was stalking a squirrel from behind one of the flowerbeds. And then I realised. I caught his scent. He wasn’t just any old dog. He was a Springer. A Springer. This was not good at all. We had to leave; I had to do something. I started to bark at Adam and the woman, but they paid no notice. Their conversation continued.

‘I’m Emily.’

I turned to see her hold out her hand.

‘I’m, um, Adam. Adam Hunter.’

Emily’s Springer, who had been throwing me the odd glance as he sniffed his way around this new territory, now trotted over.

‘Wah-hey, a Labrador!’ I did my best to ignore him as he sniffed around me. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Loosen up. I don’t bite.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You’re a Springer. I cannot talk to you.’

‘Oh yes, the Labrador Pact, of course. Well, it may put your mind at rest to realise I’m only half there.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I’m only half-Springer.’

‘What’s the other half?’

‘A complete mix – a canine cocktail. You see, with me, old chap, anything goes.’

‘Really.’

‘Listen, like it or not, we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other, so we might as well try and get on,’ he said. ‘After all, I think you and me could be good friends.’

‘Do you?’ I asked, trying to sound doubtful.

‘Yes, I do,’ he said, as Emily fastened his lead. ‘You see there’s a lot you could learn from me, madwag. A lot you could learn.’

‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘Like what?’

He looked up towards Emily and, realising she wasn’t paying attention, tilted his head, pulled back on the lead and reversed out of his collar.

‘Like that,’ he said, galloping off.

Emily apologised to Adam and went after her unruly dog. ‘Falstaff! Come here! Falstaff!’ As we watched them run halfway around the park Emily tried to trick Falstaff by taking a shortcut between two of the flowerbeds. He managed a double bluff and headed towards us, his tongue lolloping side to side, eyes wide in triumph.

‘Waaah-hey!’

Adam dropped my lead, leapt out and grabbed him by the back of his neck. ‘Gotcha.’

Emily walked back over to us, hand on hip, and smiled at Adam. A smile of gratitude but also of something else.

‘Wow, you’re a fast mover,’ she said, now fixing his gaze. For some reason this statement, or maybe the way she said it, robbed Adam of the power of speech. He shrugged his shoulders.

‘Pisces. I bet you’re a Pisces.’

‘Um, no. Gemini, actually. Not that I –’ he stopped, smiled. ‘Anyway, I suppose I’d better be off.’

‘You see,’ Falstaff said, as Emily put his collar and lead back on. ‘Lots of tricks, madwag. Lots of tricks.’

Emily laughed again, and this time it was clear she was flirting. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, same time.’

‘See you,’ said Adam, still mesmerised. ‘Same time.’

He stood motionless, with me next to him, his eyes following her as she poodled over to the gate. She was conscious of being watched, I am sure, or why else would she have paused, let her head roll back and run her free hand through her golden hair. But it was even more than that. The deliberateness of this action suggested she wanted to let Adam know that she could feel he was still there, watching, and that she was enjoying his attention. Anyway, whatever her intention, the moment had a profound effect on Adam who, unlike Emily, did not seem to be enjoying himself at all. He swallowed, as if trying to get rid of something he wished he hadn’t tasted. I could still sense his anxiety. Regaining my sense of duty, I got up and started to tug on the lead.

‘OK, boy, OK. I’ll take you home.’