Authors: Diana Wynne Jones
Kathleen said, in a peculiar, flat voice, “This is Leo, Miss Markles. I told you he would look after me.”
“He looks a beautiful dog, dear,” Miss Markles said. Sirius knew she was nervous of him and kindly trying to hide it from Kathleen. “Why don’t you bring him indoors with you, dear?”
She led the way back through the kitchen. Kathleen followed, keeping her hand tight on Sirius’s collar, and sat listlessly down on the battered sofa. Very puzzled and worried, Sirius hopped up beside her and sat watching her pale, stiff face.
“Now, dear,” said Miss Markles, still trying hard to be kind, “can I get you a cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” Kathleen said flatly. “I’m quite all right. I’ve got Leo.”
“Well, in that case—” Miss Markles said, dubiously hovering. She seemed to give Kathleen up. It was an obvious relief to her. “Then if you think you’ll be all right with Leo, dear, I’d better go and have a word with Mrs. Duffield.”
Kathleen did not answer. Miss Markles, giving her a nervous look, went and tapped timidly on the door to the shop. Nobody
answered the tap, but she nevertheless opened the door, tiptoed through, and closed it again so softly that Sirius hardly heard the latch click.
“She’s the school secretary,” Kathleen explained to him, in that odd, dull voice, staring stiffly in front of her. “She’s doing her best to be kind, but I don’t think she’s had much practice. They’ve all been like that, ever since—” She put out an arm and clutched Sirius against her. After three minutes, Sirius had to wriggle. His back was twisted. He nosed her face apologetically and squirmed into a more comfortable position. Kathleen leaned her head on him. “Oh, Leo,” she said. “My daddy’s dead. The police got Uncle Harry out of work and they came round to school. The other side found him before the army did. They shot him dead this morning. And, Leo, the worst of it is, I can’t remember what my daddy
looked
like properly—not after all this time. I keep trying to remember, and it gets in the way of being sad.”
Sirius nosed her again, truly sorry. He saw what Sol had meant. He had no idea what to do now.
“I’d no idea what a muddle being sad is,” Kathleen said. She sounded much more like her usual self, saying it. Sirius was glad. “I almost keep forgetting my daddy’s dead. And then I wonder if it hurt, and hope it didn’t, and I hope he wasn’t horribly frightened. Then, in the middle, I remember how annoying he could be sometimes. He was quite like Uncle Harry. If he didn’t like something, he didn’t want to know about it. But he was funny and kind, too. And I know all that, but I can’t remember what he
looked
like.” Still hugging Sirius, she went back to staring straight
ahead again. He wondered if he should nose her. Or not. He did not know what to do.
The door to the shop burst open. Duffie trampled in, high and cold and furious.
“What on earth does that woman mean, bringing you back here in the middle of the day?” she demanded. “I pay a small fortune for you to have school lunches. Am I supposed to pay for it twice today, or what?”
“It’s all right,” Kathleen said, still staring at nothing, “I’m not hungry.”
But Duffie had only said that to warm herself up for her real diatribe. “Then starve if you’d rather,” she said. “I know by now you do everything just to annoy me.
You
don’t care! Look at you, sitting there with that great useless dog messing up the sofa, with not an ounce of consideration for
me
! And, to crown it all, that woman tells me to comfort you! Let me tell you, Kathleen, it should be the other way round. I’ve put up with you for nearly a year, and you’ve been nothing but trouble and expense the whole time. I only agreed to have you on the understanding that you’d go back to that father of yours as soon as he came out of jail. Now look what happens! He gets himself shot, and I have to put up with you for the rest of your life! Harry’ll be trying to make me adopt you next. Well, that’s one thing I
won’t
do. I told that woman to her face I wouldn’t. The wretched child can go to a Home, I told her. As for the father, he only got exactly what he deserved!”
“He didn’t deserve to be shot,” Kathleen said drearily. “Nobody does—even you.”
“I’m not going to stand here and be insulted!” said Duffie. “Since they thought fit to send you home at this unreasonable hour, you can make yourself useful for once. Go and turn out Robin’s room. It’s a pigsty. You’ve not touched it for weeks.”
“No,” said Kathleen, without interest. “Do it yourself if you want it done.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me!” Duffie said. It did not seem to occur to her that a great calamity had just fallen on Kathleen, nor that even Kathleen could be pushed too far. “I’ve taken you in. I’ve lavished kindness on you. Do as I tell you.”
Kathleen stood up. Sirius could feel her trembling. “No,” she said. “You’ve never been kind to me, not for a minute. Why should I do your dirty work?”
Duffie stared at her, coldly outraged. Kathleen was standing so still, apart from the trembling, and she spoke in such a dead, calm voice, that Duffie still did not see she had gone too far. She said, “I’ve had about enough of you, Kathleen!”
Kathleen said quietly, “And I’ve had about enough of you.” Very slowly and deliberately, though she was still shaking, she walked to the broom cupboard and took out a broom. Sirius ran anxiously after her along the sofa, wondering what she was going to do.
“Take that broom upstairs and get to work,” said Duffie. “I’m going to get myself some lunch.” She aimed a slap at Sirius as she tramped off to the kitchen. “Get down, you filthy creature!”
The slap did not hurt much, but two pink places appeared on Kathleen’s face, under her eyes, making her eyes look dark as the night sky. She looked as if she had come alive again. “Don’t you hit
Leo!” she shouted at Duffie’s back. “I’ll show you!” And she dashed into the shop waving the broom.
“What’s she doing?” Tibbles asked anxiously from her basket.
A great crashing of pots was the answer. Sirius arrived in time to see Kathleen put the broom to the second shelf of pottery and sweep sideways. Pots rained down, pots by tens, twenties and thirties, smashing, crashing, smashing. Bits flew across the floor. Dust rose. Sirius jumped, wincing, among them and tried to nose Kathleen to bring her to her senses.
Kathleen’s broom swept along another shelf, and another. Her hair was wild and her face bright red.
“Hurray!”
she shouted, above the crashing. “I’ve always wanted to do this!” With Sirius still dancing uneasily about her, she jumped on a pile of pieces. Sharp bits flew. She raised the broom and brought it down on a stack of pots by the sales-room door.
Smash! Parangrash! Crunch!
She jumped on them. By this time, there was not a whole pot in the workroom. Kathleen whirled her broom and rushed toward the shop itself.
Duffie pounded in and caught her in its doorway. There was a brief, fierce struggle. Then Duffie was hitting Kathleen with the broom, with both bulging calves braced to hold her, and Kathleen was screaming. Sirius did not think. As soon as Kathleen screamed, his teeth went into Duffie’s left calf, almost of their own accord. He brought his jaws together vehemently.
Duffie yelled. She tasted horrible. Sirius let go, disgusted, and leaped away, not quite in time. The broom caught him across the head, and he yelped. He dodged. Duffie hopped furiously about after him, crushing shards of pot under her right sandal, aiming swipes at him with the broom and raving.
“That does it! That’s final! The filthy brute! I shall die of blood poisoning!”
“You’ve probably poisoned him,” Kathleen said.
Duffie leaned on the broom like a crutch and tried to see her leg. “I’m bleeding like a pig!”
“No you’re not,” Kathleen said scornfully. “It’s only a trickle. He could have bitten a piece out if he’d wanted.”
“He’s not going to have the chance again!” raved Duffie. “As soon as I’ve got some plaster on, he’s going down to the vet’s. And as for you, you’re going to pay for every single pot!”
“All right,” said Kathleen. “But you’re not taking Leo to be put down.”
“Oh, yes I am!” said Duffie. “This very afternoon. We’re none of us safe from the brute!”
Kathleen turned away and walked over the scattered pottery to the door. “Come on, Leo. Mind your feet.” Sirius picked his way after her, trembling. He could tell Duffie meant what she said. He hoped Kathleen would put him in the yard, so that he would have a chance to escape.
“Where are you going?” Duffie screeched, hobbling after them.
“I’m taking him down to the vet myself,” said Kathleen. “You’re not doing it.” She went to the broom closet and fetched the leash. “Here, Leo.”
Sirius stood in the middle of the living room, appalled. He supposed Kathleen had little choice, but he still could not believe she could do it. Kathleen called to him sharply. He did not go to her. Kathleen went to him and grabbed his collar, unusually roughly, while she wrestled to get the leash clipped on. Sirius only
let her do it in the end because he knew he could slip out of the collar.
“Now, come on!” Kathleen said peremptorily and lugged him to the side door.
“He’ll be closed for lunch,” Duffie said, limping to the kitchen for plaster.
“I’ll wait outside till he opens,” said Kathleen, and shut the door with a slam. Sirius could still hardly believe it. His back bristled, his tail was low, and he refused to move. Kathleen backed up the passage, heaving at him. “Don’t be an idiot!” she snapped. “Come
on
!” A lorry passed in the road beyond. Under the noise of it, Kathleen leaned down and whispered, “Of course we’re not going to the vet, you idiot! But she wouldn’t have let us out of the house if I hadn’t said it. Now, do come on.”
Hugely relieved, Sirius surged forward. By the time they reached the end of the street, it was he who was pulling and Kathleen who was hanging back. He look around to see why. Tears were rolling down her face.
“I don’t know where to go, Leo,” she said. “I’ve just noticed there isn’t anywhere. If I go and tell Uncle Harry, he’ll only take us back. Then she’ll have you put down. I don’t know what to do.”
It was certainly a problem. Sirius tugged Kathleen on again and thought about it. He owed it to Kathleen to make sure she was safe before he left her to hunt for the Zoi. She had looked after him. He must do the same for her. But where could he take her? A little doubtfully, he thought of Miss Smith. He liked Miss Smith. He was sure she would like Kathleen. But he knew that people would take
in a dog far more readily than they would take in a fellow human. It was odd, but it was true. Still, he could think of nobody more likely than Miss Smith, and he found he had set off unconsciously dragging Kathleen toward Miss Smith’s house anyway. He began to drag her faster. Kathleen’s feet hurried and stumbled behind.
“Where are we going, Leo? The Town Hall? But we can’t just go and complain to the Mayor, can we? Would he listen?”
The idea appealed to Kathleen. Before long, she had it so firmly in her head that they were going to the Town Hall to complain to the Mayor, that Sirius had great difficulty in leading her any other way. As they got near Miss Smith’s house, he had to prod and push her at every corner.
“Where are you going? This isn’t the way,” she kept saying.
In the end, Sirius put his shoulders forward, braced his hind legs and heaved Kathleen bodily up the street where Miss Smith lived. He heaved her past the stack of dustbins and up the steps to Miss Smith’s front door. He put out a paw to the mark he had made knocking on it every day, and just managed to batter on it while Kathleen was pulling him down the steps again. The door opened almost at once.
“Oh, now the lady’s coming!” Kathleen said, horribly embarrassed. “Really, Leo!”
“Do you call him Leo?” said Miss Smith. “I call him Sirius, because of his eyes. Hallo, Sirius. So you’ve brought your mistress now, have you?”
“I’m awfully sorry. He pulled me here,” Kathleen explained.
Miss Smith looked up from Sirius to her stiff, tear-marked face.
“Would you like to come in and perhaps have a cup of tea while you tell me what’s happened?” she suggested.
“Well, I—” Kathleen began. Sirius heaved again and they went up the steps and in through the door in a rush.
“That’s right,” said Miss Smith, shutting the front door behind them. “Now, tea and bones.”
At this moment, Bruce, who, like Sirius, was not much given to barking, cautiously put his face around Miss Smith’s sitting-room door to see who was there. Sirius had forgotten Bruce would be here. He heaved Kathleen forward again to greet him. “She let you stay? I
am
glad to see you!”
“You’ve got a dog just like Leo!” said Kathleen.
Miss Smith looked a trifle guilty. “Actually, he’s not mine at all. His collar says he’s called Bruce, and he seems to come from those houses down by the river. He turned up this morning before I was up and begged me to let him stay. I suppose he has his reasons. I think he’s a friend of your Leo’s.”
“He must be,” Kathleen agreed, watching the waving tails of both dogs.
Before long, they were all four in Miss Smith’s sitting room, Bruce and Sirius with a bone apiece, and Kathleen with a strong sugary cup of tea.
“Now,” said Miss Smith, “what did your Leo do? Or was it both of you?”
Kathleen began to cry. “Both of us. I took a broom and smashed all Mrs. Duffield’s pots—”
“Mrs. Duffield’s pots?” said Miss Smith. “You mean that awful
little shop in Mead Bank? Then I congratulate you. Those are quite the most hideous things in town. There ought to be a law against them. Then what?”
“Duffie hit me with the broom and Leo bit her,” Kathleen said despairingly.
“Good dog!” said Miss Smith. She bent down and patted Sirius so heartily that his ribs boomed and he all but swallowed his bone whole. “A dog’s not much good if he doesn’t look after you,” she told Kathleen.
“Yes, but Duffie was going to have him put down,” said Kathleen. “So we had to run away.”
“I see,” said Miss Smith. “But you’ve left an awful lot out, my dear. Neither you nor Sirius are the kind of people who break pots or bite people without good reason.”