13

The Rescue Centre

It was several days before Beattie felt herself again. She was so exhausted, and remained so fearful of Darren turning up to claim her, that she couldn’t relax for one minute.

Would they really let Darren take her? Surely not! She couldn’t count the days but was certain that by now Brian must have come looking for her. She imagined the conversation the two men might have;

Brian: Hiya Mate! Where’s my little Beattie then?

Darren: Hiya. Better are you? Well, I’ve got a bit of bad news I’m afraid....

Darren to himself: So that’s her stupid name. Right! Now I can go and get the little monster and teach her a lesson or two. That bite she gave me still hurts!

Brian: What d’you mean bad news? Has something happened to her?

Darren: ‘Fraid so Mate. We were out for a nice long walk on Sunday when she just ran off! For no reason! Just disappeared! Maybe someone stole her. She looked so lovely after I’d been feeding her up and that, while you were resting your leg.

Brian: Why didn’t you call me? You didn’t did you? I could have gone looking for her. Sunday you say?

Darren: I tried loads Mate. Your phone was off. Or was it that mine was off? Someone’s phone was off....

By this stage in Beattie’s imaginary conversation she would lose track of what might be said next and would find herself in tears. Or what if Darren just said, ‘She’s had an accident Mate,’ and left it at that. Beattie couldn’t bear it.

When Darren did come Beattie was lying sadly at the back of her pen. Since she’d been here before with Dora and her sisters there were new staff, and Alison, whom she remembered well, had been promoted to boss and spent most of her time on a computer. Beattie couldn’t tell whether anyone there recognised her at all.

Seeing Darren, Beattie began to shake. He had on the jacket that she had bitten through, and there was a half smoked cigarette behind his ear. He looked even more unpleasant than her memory of him, although he seemed to be trying to smile.

He was with a new staff member called Laura, and Beattie soon realised, with a feeling of alarm, that he was pretending to be Brian, and using Brian’s name.

‘Well Mr Wilson, this is the terrier that was brought in the other evening. Is this your dog? We found her details, of course, through the microchip we put in before you took her home the first time. But we were concerned about her weight and decided we’d keep her for a few days to see if you turned up. Have you got any identification with you?’ Darren ignored this question.

‘That’s her! That’s my little Beattie. Oh, hello darling, precious dog!’

Laura came into the pen to pick Beattie up. Beattie shook, and pressed herself against the furthest wall.

‘She doesn’t seem very pleased to see you,’ said Laura.

‘Oh, she’s fine!’ Darren smiled. ‘She’s just upset that’s all. Probably blames me for losing sight of her and letting her get lost.’

Beattie stared at Darren and growled. She trembled as hard as she could. She didn’t have to pretend. As Laura came towards her there could be no doubt that she was a very frightened little dog. But instead of Laura handing her to Brian, she picked her up and kept hold of her and turned in the direction of the office.

‘If you’ll just come with me Mr Wilson, we’ll have to take some details and look at your ID. I’m sure you understand.’

‘Well, no, not really. What details d’you need?’ Darren’s smile faded and he began to look his usual shifty self. He glared at Beattie. ‘She’s my dog. I’m Brian Wilson and I got her from here. You can check your records.’ Impatiently, he gave Brian’s address. Beattie growled again, and shivered in Laura’s arms. Laura had to understand that going with Darren was NOT what she wanted.

‘I’m a little concerned at the dog’s reaction to you Mr Wilson,’ said Laura, ‘I should have expected her to give you more of a welcome.’

At this Darren began to lose his temper. ‘I’ve told you why she’s making that noise,’ he said, ‘she’s upset that I lost her that’s all. Now listen to me Missus. You’re wasting time here and I’ve got a living to make. Hand her over and you can get on with your work too. Or I’ll be talking to your boss whoever he is.’ This time he glared at Laura.

‘My boss is called Alison Cope,’ said Laura sharply, ‘and I’d be grateful if you’d wait there while I go and find her. She’s not far away.’

Laura kept hold of Beattie as she went in search of help. But before Alison could be found, there was a loud slam of the office block door, and Darren disappeared. From out in the street there came the sound of an engine starting up, and skidding as the van charged off down the road.

‘Well well,’ said Laura. ‘He wasn’t very nice.’ She stroked Beattie’s ears, and said kindly, ‘Don’t worry. We won’t give you to him. We’ll find a new home for you. Maybe someone with children who’ll make a fuss of you and take you for walks. How about that?’

But Beattie didn’t want a new home. She wanted her old one back. She wanted Brian.

Before settling her back in her pen Laura reported to Alison.

‘That’s odd,’ said Alison. ‘Brian Wilson seemed such a nice man. I remember him quite well. But I’ll make a note on the computer that it was an unsuccessful re-homing and that Beattie’s not to be given back to him. Poor little thing,’ she said to Beattie, ‘you seem to have had a bad time. That must be why you ran away.’