Mrs Ailsa Linley was tiny, and almost a hundred years old, but she swished through the streets of Knightsbridge, London, as if she were on the red carpet leading to her very own premiere. Wearing her late husband’s tuxedo, slippers on her feet, a cigarette in one hand and her loyal Alsatian, Max, trotting by her side on a leash, she was the very definition of magnificent. It was a shame no one was around to see Ailsa, but she much preferred to take her morning walk before the tourists swarmed the streets. Though people often found Max intimidating, he was a quiet and gentle soul, which is why Ailsa was startled to hear him bark suddenly.
‘What are you barking at, Maxy? Huh? What is it, darling?’
They had stopped in front of the famous luxury department store called Harrods, and Max had jumped up at one of the display windows, his front paws pressed against the glass, his bark painfully loud.
‘You silly dog. It’s just a mannequin.’ Ailsa tugged at Max’s leash, but for the first time in his life, Max did not obey. His barking became more aggressive.
‘Maxy! Stop it! Look. See? It’s not a real man, it’s just a . . .’ Ailsa didn’t finish her sentence because she realized she was wrong and Max was right. There was a real man lying fast asleep in the window display. He was tucked up under a polka-dot duvet, a baby’s dummy in his mouth, and a shower cap on his head. He was surrounded by cuddly toys.
‘Darling Maxy, you’re quite right. There seems to be a fellow asleep in the window. At least, I think he’s asleep. How very odd.’ Rather than alert anyone then and there, Ailsa finished her usual walk around the park, came home, gave Max his breakfast, washed her face, applied very thick moisturizer to her face and hands, made a pot of coffee, lit a cigarette, and settled into her reading chair by the window. Only then did she call the police. The nice thing about this chair, other than it being the most comfortable chair in the world, was that it gave her a view of the street below, where, soon after making her call, she watched police cars arrive and escort the pale mystery man from Harrods.
Then, with Max curled around her feet and the morning sun creeping across her carpet, Ailsa Linley took her nap.