Wolfie (9 page)

“We’re on the right track I’m sure!” said Lucie.

“You mean the right
paw
,” said Fang.

Then Lucie followed her right foot again and set off along Acorn Avenue. It was beginning to get dark, and the streetlights had come on. Soon Lucie was walking through the slush next to the
railings at the front of Professor Pike’s house. Lucie’s feet dragged. She had always hated this house — even before she had found out that Professor Pike was the kind of
scientist who liked chopping animals up into tiny bits.

Lucie’s feet grew slower and slower until they reached the gate that led into Professor Pike’s garden. Then they stopped altogether.

“Well?” Fang asked.

Lucie stood, hesitating. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t see how the answer can possibly be here. Do you?”

Fang said nothing.

“I wish you wouldn’t just look!” said Lucie.

She wanted to walk on. But just ahead of them was a corner where the wall stuck out and the pavement turned left. And if she turned left she would no longer be following her right paw.

“I mean,” Lucie gabbled, “I don’t think Silver Paw could have meant
this
house. Nobody lives here but a grumpy old professor!”

Fang still said nothing.

“I’ve always thought this place was downright spooky!” Lucie declared. “I’m not going in — and that’s final!”

“Then let’s go on.”

“But we can’t, not if we want to follow our right paws! Besides I
know
this is the place! I — I can smell it somehow!”

“Ah, now you’re talking like a sensible cub,” said Fang approvingly. “A clever wolf always trusts her nose.”

“Yes, but whatever my nose says, the rest of me wants to run away as fast as possible!”

Fang laughed. At least, she made no sound, but Lucie could see from her eyes that she was laughing.

“And you’re no help!” Lucie said.

As she stood, undecided, a gust of wind shook the tree behind her, and a twig came fluttering down. It landed in front of Lucie, between the two gateposts of Professor Pike’s house.

“Look!” said Lucie. “It’s an oak twig. I never noticed that tree was an oak before. And it has an acorn on it.” Her eyes shone. “It’s a sign!
Don’t you remember? It was when I said I lived on Acorn Avenue that Silver Paw said he could help. And now here is an acorn, showing the way!”

She lifted her chin. “We’re going into Professor Pike’s garden!”

M
arcus Mainwaring was very intrigued by what he saw that afternoon from his bedroom window. First he saw Lucie and that horrible wolf-dog of hers
sitting in her back garden. Then a new person turned up, and to his amazement he recognised Alex Beamer. What was he doing there? Why was
he
so friendly with a stupid squit like Lucie?
Marcus scowled through his binoculars.

Then, almost as soon as he had arrived, Alex left. And a moment later, Lucie leapt up and started marching about the garden, before vanishing round the side of the house. Marcus ran to the
landing window to see where she was going…

“Marcus!” shouted Mrs Mainwaring. “Someone to see you!”

“Bother!” said Marcus. But then he saw it was Alex.

“Hey, Alex,” said Marcus, running down the stairs.

“Hi Marcus. Listen. I need to talk to you about something important.”

“Oh yes?” asked Marcus as casually as he could manage.

“It’s like this. We could really do with a new goalie for the school team. That Owen Birt isn’t up to much. So — some of us thought you might be
interested…”

“Of course, it’s not exactly a surprise,” said Marcus, sticking out his chest.

“Isn’t it?”

“Actually, I was almost expecting it. Do you know, I saw you just now in Lucie Firkettle’s back garden? I just happened to glance out of the window and there you were. And I thought
to myself, I bet Alex has gone in there by mistake, looking for my house. I suppose I should have guessed.”

“Err — yes.”

“Of course, in some ways I’d
rather
play up front —”

“That’s
my
position,” said Alex firmly. “Come on. If you’re interested let’s go and try some practice shots before it gets too dark. D’you have a
football? I forgot mine.”

And with the prospect of playing on the school team before him, Marcus forgot all about the strange behaviour of Lucie Firkettle.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lucie was standing on the front doorstep of Professor Pike’s house. Enormous bushes of spiky holly screened her from the road, while above her loomed the house,
without a single light showing. Her heart was thumping, and even though she had Fang beside her, she was scared.

There was no bell, so she grasped the door knocker and banged as loud as she could.

As she let go she gasped.

“What is it?” murmured Fang.

“Look at the door knocker!”

It was in the shape of a wolf’s head.

“Rather fetching,” murmured Fang.

“And no more talking!” Lucie whispered. “Remember your vow!”

There was a long pause. It really did seem that Professor Pike might have died, or at least gone out for the day. During the wait, Lucie noticed a sign next to the door. She had not seen it
before because of the ivy hanging over it. When she pushed the leaves away she could clearly read
The Den
.

“Odd name for a house,” she murmured.

Lucie was about to hammer on the door again, when there was a scraping noise. It was as if someone were pulling back a very rusty bolt. Then there was a squeaking noise, as if someone were
turning a very rusty key. Finally, ever so slowly, the door swung out towards them.

Lucie’s hands were clenched so tight that her fingernails were pressing into her palms.

At first all Lucie could make out was the dim shape of a bent-over figure. It was leaning on a stick. Then it reached out a hand and a light snapped on. The harsh electric beam made Lucie
jump.

“Oh!” she said, disappointed. For after all that worrying, there was nothing to see but an elderly lady, with a round pink face and white hair, dressed in a cardie and tartan
skirt.

“Yes?” said the old lady.

“Can I speak to Professor Pike, please?”

“Yes?” said the old woman again.

“Well, then, can I?”

“Well — yes,” said the old lady. “I’ve already said so.”

“Then where is he?” demanded Lucie, losing patience. “Or are we just going to stand on this doorstep forever?”

The old lady drew herself up to her full height (which was not very high). “I
am
Professor Pike, you impertinent child! Now tell me what you want before I shut the door on
you!”

“Oh!” gasped Lucie. She suddenly felt extremely silly.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucie stammered. “You see —” She was about to say
You don’t look like the kind of person who cuts animals into tiny pieces
, but
instead she said, “— you just look like somebody’s granny.”

“Grannies can be professors too, you know,” Professor Pike told her rather sharply, “and vice versa, of course. Now what can I do for you?”

“The thing is, I’m not sure.”

“Then I think we’ve wasted enough time!” Professor Pike began to shut the door. But before she could, Lucie put her foot in the gap.

“I’m ever so sorry. I know it must seem strange. But I really do need your help!”

“I’ll give you five minutes,” said the Professor. And to show she meant it, she looked at her watch.

Lucie could think of nothing else to do but to tell her the whole story. So she did. Or most of it anyway. She did not tell her the magic bits, or how Fang could talk. But she told how Uncle Joe
had brought Fang as a present, and Lucie had said that she was a wolf, only nobody would believe her. How Fang had proved herself a loyal friend and companion, and everybody had come to like her,
including Lucie’s parents. How Fang had accompanied Lucie to school each day, and how there had been no problems until Marcus had decided to play his mean and spiteful trick. How Fang had
saved little Grace’s life, only now, suddenly, everyone was wondering if she was a wolf after all, and saying that if she was she would have to go.

“And someone — someone kind — said you might help. I don’t understand how. But if you can help,
please
do because I can’t bear the thought of Fang going
away!”

Lucie waited for Professor Pike to react. She thought she might stare in fear and horror at Fang. Or ask in her grumpy voice just what did Lucie expect
her
to do? Or even go into her
house and slam the door. But Professor Pike did none of those things.

“Goodness gracious,” said Professor Pike, “why didn’t you explain all this at the start?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What
you
need, my dear, is my expert opinion. Now why didn’t you say so before? Let’s go inside. It’s much warmer — and I shall need my
spectacles!”

Rather confused, Lucie followed Professor Pike into the house, with Fang beside her. They went down a very long, dark corridor, filled with very peculiar things. There was a sled on one wall,
for example, and a picture of Professor Pike in a fur hat, and some glass cases full of bones. Lucie glanced at these nervously, and wondered if they were human or animal bones, and if Marcus had
been right about Professor Pike after all.

Eventually Professor Pike showed them into her study, which was cosy — if extremely messy. All kinds of things were crammed into it. Lucie sat on an over-stuffed sofa, and Fang sat on the
rug next to her, and they watched as Professor Pike hunted for her glasses. She looked under the newspaper, and behind the clock, and next to the computer on the desk, and on all the bookshelves
(there were a
lot
of bookshelves) and behind a glass case full of more bones. Eventually she found them dangling by one ear-piece from a coat-hook on the door.

“Is that your gold medal?” asked Lucie shyly, pointing to the shiny medal on a red ribbon that was hanging from the same hook.

“That’s right. I was wondering where it had got to.” Professor Pike picked it up, looked around, then decided she might as well put it back on the hook.

“What did you get it for?”

“My research, of course.”

“I don’t really know what that is,” Lucie admitted. “And I’m afraid I don’t know what an expert opinion is either.”

“My dear child,” said the Professor, “what do you think I’m a professor of?”

“I don’t know. Although I’m sure it’s very clever and difficult,” said Lucie quickly.

“Zoology. And my particular speciality is canines. All canines — but
especially
wolves. I take it you know that the wolf is the common name for
Canis Lupus
?”
Lucie shook her head and the Professor tutted. “Well it is. And let me tell you, there is nobody in this country better placed to tell you whether this animal is a dog or a wolf than I am.
And so — to work!”

The Professor had been polishing her spectacles on her cardigan as she spoke. Now she perched them on her nose. Then she stared very hard at Fang, as if she were seeing her for the first time.
“Well, well,” she said. “Well, well, well.”

The Professor walked round Fang, examining her from every angle. Lucie fidgeted. A new worry nagged at her. A terrible worry. If the Professor really
did
know all about wolves…then
surely she would see at once that Fang was a wolf and not a dog. What would happen then?

At last the Professor spoke.

“In all my born days,” she said slowly, “I never expected to see this. Not in my own living-room!”

Lucie stared at her feet.

“The years I have spent studying wolves!” continued the Professor. “Pursuing them through the Rocky Mountains! Tracking them across the snow-covered Steppes! Once I spent an
entire fortnight camped out in a blizzard, just so I could observe a single wolf den! I was lucky that a passing grizzly bear didn’t happen to observe
me
! And now here in my own
study…” She shook her head, speechless.

“Please!” begged Lucie. “Just tell me! Is she a wolf or a dog?”

“A dog?” echoed the Professor. “
A dog
? My goodness no. I never saw a specimen of
Canis Familiaris
that looked like this. Look at the size of the head. Whoever saw
a dog with a head that big? And then there’s the paws. And the shape of her muzzle. She’s certainly not a dog!”

Lucie gazed at her in dismay. “But then you haven’t helped at all!”

P
rofessor Pike stared at Lucie in astonishment. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I
told
you!” Lucie gasped, almost sobbing. “If Fang is a wolf, then they’re going to send her away! And you just said she
is
!”

“I said no such thing.”

“You did! I heard you!”

“You did not. I said she wasn’t a
dog
. But whether she’s a wolf…or a weasel…or a wombat, that’s another matter entirely!”

“Oh! But she
looks
just like a wolf.”

“Only to an untrained eye.”