Chapter Eleven:

The Lady and the Labrador

Much to my parents’ dismay, after Boxing Day lunch I announce that Izzy, Michael, and I are going Jules’ and Eddie’s house for a party. Michael looks at his feet as Mother begs us to stay and tries to convince everyone that I am in no fit state to go. Her tone is defeatist though, as she sees the defiance in my eyes. Even Izzy had the sharp end of the tongue earlier when she told me I should not be wearing my wig.

I had held my hand up to silence her, and made her help me cover the scar with an adhesive bandage, muttering crossly, ‘As though I would go to a party looking like Frankenstein’s Monster.’

She eventually gives up and tells Michael to take care of me, and I only feel the slightest trace of guilt that she will be left alone for the afternoon as Father is going to a golf meeting where apparently wives aren’t allowed.

‘Do you think she’ll be OK?’ asks Izzy as Michael drives carefully through the snow. ‘I don’t know why you want to see them anyway today of all days. We could have gone with Mother to see Grandma and Grandad.’

I shrug my shoulders and look out of the window. I suppose I had felt very vulnerable the last time my friends saw me, and I wanted everyone to see I was much better, and one day I would be just like the old me again. I was still fragile, but underneath my wig my scalp was darkening with new hair, and with Izzy’s eyebrow magic and my blonde wig, I felt quite pretty. I smoothed down the black velvet of my fitted dress, knowing its figure-hugging style would leave no question in anyone’s mind that I was fashionably thin. I wanted to erase the image of Jules’ and Eddie’s unmasked horror when they saw me in hospital for the first time during chemo and replace it with mild envy at my present fabulousness.

I smile at Michael as he tells me we should take Pinto back to the ranch next week. A look of disappointment must show on my face because he goes on to say that I can ride him every day when I am a little steadier.

I feel very brave and say, ‘A child could ride Pinto. I want to ride Blaze,’ knowing full well that only Michael had ever ridden the flighty palomino.

‘Hmm, we’ll see,’ he tells me, not looking terribly convinced.

We pull up outside Jules’ and Eddie’s and the instant we walk through the door I know I have made a terrible mistake. It is only half past three but there are bodies everywhere, and I imagine this house has been the host to anyone not wanting to spend Christmas with their families. I shudder at the memory Jules and I had planned; to start the party on Christmas Eve and try to keep it in full swing until New Year’s Eve. It would certainly seem as though all was going to plan so far, and despite her maturity, this was not the place for my little sister.

‘Anna!’ Jules shrieks, sidestepping the pizza boxes and bottles strewn all over the floor, ‘Look, everybody, it’s Anna!’ She throws her arms around me and I cannot help but smile at my remarkably drunk friend, until she sets her sights upon Michael and my face darkens. ‘We haven’t met,’ she simpers, fluttering her crooked false eyelashes, ‘I am Juliet … Anna’s very best friend.’ I roll my eyes as she points her ample cleavage in his direction, barely concealed beneath her micro-mini dress. Jules sweeps him away to find drinks and he throws a rather worried-looking glance at me over his shoulder. I sigh disappointedly as I realise everyone is too drunk to notice how well I look, and leave Izzy fending off a boy in a blue rugby kit while I try to find Eddie.

He is collapsed on the sofa, a bottle of his favoured Ouzo in one hand and a burned out cigarette in the other. I nudge him with my foot to no avail. A girl I vaguely recognise offers me some wine, but the smell of weed and stale beer is making me feel sick, not to mention the fact I can barely see a foot in front of me due to smoke.

I find my way to the back door, failing to see Michael and Jules en-route, so I push it open for a little fresh air before I can go back and try again. The cold air hits me like a sheet of ice, but I welcome its freshening reprieve. I take a few deep gulps and think of my mother at home, with her bruised eye and swollen lip. Taking out my phone I dial our landline but she doesn’t answer, so I leave a message to say we are not staying and as soon as I find Izzy and Michael we will head back. I presume she has gone to see my grandparents after all, as she had wanted us to this afternoon, and I felt a little cross that I thought this party would be more fun than going to visit them.

I take a few more breaths and am about to head back inside when the most desolate cry I have heard makes me stop and turn back around.

From the height of the little back yard terrace, I can see over the fence to Jules’ miserable neighbour’s garden, and tied to the washing line is a bereft-looking dog with moulted and matted fur. He is painfully thin and howls a little more loudly before cowering against the yard wall, as a man comes out and promptly kicks his hind quarters. I am about to shout in protest but the sound catches in my throat and I stand absolutely still in shocked silence as the man curls his lip and actually growls at the dog, making it back further away. He raises his hand so the animal flinches, and then staggers back to the house, slamming the door behind him.

I cannot believe what I’ve just seen, and watch while my heart aches as the dog turns in circles trying to find comfort on the freezing concrete floor. He eventually flops down and another yelp escapes him as his hind leg must have been quite hurt. I look around the yard and see there is no food or water bowl, and he has no shelter from the bitter wind that promised snow through the night.

I take one last look and thank God that the first person I see in the kitchen is Michael. ‘Anna, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ I push past him but grab his hand so I don’t lose him again. ‘Where’s Izzy?’

‘She’s in the car outside, said she refused to stay a moment longer and to go and fetch you pronto.’

I grab a bottle of brandy from the sideboard and down a couple of glugs as Michael looks at me with a surprised expression.

‘Dutch courage,’ I tell him. ‘Listen to me, this might sound strange but I need you to do something for me.’ His handsome face looks dubious and I begin to have second thoughts. I look up at him and remember everything we’ve been through and consider that perhaps I should be focusing on the two of us and not rescuing neglected animals. I sigh inwardly and tell him, ‘Ignore me. It doesn’t matter …’ I shake my head and lead him to the front door where Izzy is waiting in the car, looking uncharacteristically cross.

‘Don’t say it!’ I hold my hands up as I slide into the passenger seat while Michael takes the wheel. ‘We should have gone to Granny’s, I know. Let’s just head there now, I think Mother has already gone.’

Izzy does not say anything as Michael pulls out onto the city streets. I wait until we are halfway home, almost approaching the country lanes, before I tell him to turn back around. He stares at me dumbfounded until I breathlessly tell them about the dog, at which point my beloved three-point-turns us back towards the city.

My sister has always been a rescuer of waifs and strays. Of course Mother would never in a thousand years let us keep the poor animal, but if we could just get him home she might let us keep him in the shed for a day or two until Michael can take him to the ranch.

Michael looks at my animated face with amusement. ‘You really have this all figured out, don’t you, darling?’ He sounds cross but a smile plays at his lips. ‘And what if my folks don’t want another dog about the place?’

I shrug and tell him we would have to find another home for him, but anything would be preferable to leaving him there to freeze or starve to death.

That concludes the discussion, and we focus on hatching a plan to save him. Izzy goes through it a final time before we take the turn onto my old street.

‘OK, Michael leave the car in the alley behind his house, then go round front and knock on the door to tell him you’re lost and need directions. Keep him talking as long as you can. Anna will get the dog through the backyard gate and I’ll keep the engine running while she unties him and fetches him to the car. By that time Michael will have run back around and we’re home free!’

She sounds about as convinced as I feel, but not at least attempting to do this just was not an option. We watch poor Michael head round the front and I look behind to see his worried face, clearly not delighted at his task to distract a thug.

Izzy waits anxiously, keeping the engine running as I sigh with relief that the gate is not bolted and opens quietly. I call softly, ‘Here, boy,’ and the poor soul just looks at me with wary eyes. I wonder what I have gotten myself into, and fear he may bite me as I gently reach behind his collar and begin to untie the tattered rope. I can hear raised voices from inside the house and my hands start to shake uncontrollably, but I have come this far and pull at his now untied collar. Initially refusing to budge, the dog eventually makes a decision to come with me and reluctantly allows me to lead him through the gate, before making it onto the back seat of the car. Izzy burst into to tears when she sees him and I have to hiss to get into the passenger seat.

Michael flies round the corner into view at full sprint and he protests about what a crazy idea that was, and how the man had threatened to punch him, He comes to an abrupt halt when he looks over onto the back seat and at our new companion sat trembling next to me.

By the time we pull into Elm Tree, he’s shaking a little less, although he still looks rather bewildered. I can see beneath the grime that he had once been a rather handsome golden Labrador.

To my absolute horror, as we all tumble out of Michael’s car, my mother swings open the front door and rests her mortified eyes on our fourth passenger. She is wearing a white Donna Karen suit but as we let the dog out, none of us can quite believe it as she drops to her knees, allowing him to lick her pretty face, oblivious to the muddy paws ruining her designer clothes.

‘You poor darling,’ she whispers to him, stroking behind his soft ears in a manner that makes his head turn happily upwards. ‘Where did you find him?’

‘A stray!’ I blurt out before she can look at our guilty faces. She might have an unexpected fondness for this dog, but I am certain she would draw the line at theft.

‘A stray in this weather, you poor, poor thing.’ And with that the raggedy dog follows her obediently into the house while we are left outside stunned.

‘But she doesn’t like dogs.’ Izzy sounds bemused and it was true, we went through the inevitable stage of asking for a puppy throughout our childhood and she had always hidden behind the reasoning that Father would never allow it.

We follow her inside and she is rubbing him gently with an expensive cream bath towel, fresh and warm from the tumble dryer. He seems quite taken with her also, and obediently lifts his paws as she talks to him in a cooing voice.

‘His lovely face reminds me of Oscar, your Grandma Beth’s little dog.’ I shake my head, never remembering her owning a dog.

‘We didn’t think you liked dogs, Mother.’

She looks up at me sharply, ‘It was your father who never wanted animals in the house. He worried they would make too much of a mess,’ she adds, but I just manage to hear, ‘Take the attention away from him, more like.’

When she is satisfied that the caked mud is mostly gone, three Egyptian cotton bath towels now lie filthy on the kitchen floor. She beckons him to follow her to the fridge and he happily does so as she dices some leftover turkey. ‘I know you’re hungry, but just a little at a time. We don’t want you being sick.’

He nibbles the turkey gently from her fingers and looks so hungry, but my mother is careful and does not feed him too much. She fetches him some water, which he laps at with gusto.

‘What about Father?’ I say.

‘He called earlier and won’t be back for two days. These golf gatherings can pan out into other activities.’

With that, we retire into the living room with steaming mugs of hot chocolate while Mother tenderly bathes the cut above the Labrador’s eye.

‘Do you think we can keep him, Anna?’

‘She’s very much taken with him but it’s inevitable that Father will say no.’ I am still in shock at my mother’s reaction to the new arrival, and I cuddle into Michael for comfort.

‘You did a good thing saving him, Anna. It’s unbelievable to me that someone could treat an animal in such a way.’

‘We are all children of the same stars.’ I tell him, then pause and shake my head having no clue what I meant.

‘What?’ Izzy asks me, laughing. ‘I think we should call him Freedom, because of his great escape.’

I choke on my drink and splutter, ‘Freedom? No way, Izzy! Can you imagine shouting “Freedom” across the park? People will think you’re Braveheart.’

On cue, Freedom trots into the living room and Mother settles him in front of the warm fire. ‘I think Freedom is a perfect name for him.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘Apart from a few little cuts, I think he will be fine. Something tells me he has been much loved before; goodness only knows how he got into that state. Did he have a collar?’

Izzy looks at me guardedly, as I had thrown his collar out of the car window, having no intention of the nasty neighbour ever finding him.

‘No collar, Mother. He was a stray, and must have been for months so our conscience is clear and we can find him a good home.’

My mother smiles lovingly at Freedom and I see that if she has anything to do with it, he already has.

***

If you could have taken an image of Elm Tree last Christmas, and compared it to the one of right now, it would have looked remarkably different. Two days have passed since Freedom’s arrival and along with his muddy paws, my mother’s laughter, and the glorious festive adornments, Elm Tree House is a home full of warmth and happiness.

I look around the kitchen and consider that it felt more like Grandma’s than the bleached and pristine space I was used to. Lillian was so busy fussing over Freedom that she had not been troubled to clear away the toast crumbs, the cutlery, and little jars of honey from breakfast.

I eye the clock nervously, seeing it is almost half past ten and if Father arrives home on time at lunch, he will not only have a heart attack at seeing the new arrival but will be terribly vexed at Mother’s abandoned domestic duties.

Feeling very sorry for myself, I begin the arduous task of washing dishes, not at all fair considering I am supposed to be recuperating and had planned to be as bone idle as possible for the foreseeable future. Still, Michael was heading back from the meadow so it would be good for him to see me as a domestic goddess. It may remind him I should make a charming wife.

I smile happily at him, then feel a pull in my heart as he tells me Pinto is in the horsebox and they are ready to go. He sees my face and says, ‘I will see you in a couple of hours, Anna. It would be nice if you got to see your father, then Eddie is driving you to mine, I have given him directions … and considerable gas money!’

I rest my head on his shoulders and he hugs me tightly. ‘Don’t worry about Freedom. If Malcolm goes crazy just bring him to mine with you. Everything will be fine, darling.’

I look up into his face and tell him I love him, then morosely wave goodbye as they pull out on to the lane.

As I walk back into the house I take in the dishevelled rooms and paw prints on the wooden floor. I love this new Elm Tree but I know my father will hate it and prefer what I used to call ‘The Mausoleum.’ I anxiously go to find my mother to see if we cannot tidy up a little, and find her stretched out on the chaise lounge, Freedom draped over her lap.

My eyes widen in horror as I see she is feeding him something from thin crackers, ‘Mother, please tell me that is not Father’s foie gras?’

She shrugs her shoulders and kisses the top of his golden head. ‘Freedom needs fattening up. Your father is quite fat enough.’ She laughs like a child as the dog licks her fingers and I worry the world has gone mad.

‘Will everyone stop calling him bloody Freedom!’ I shout, not meaning to make them both jump. I feel I need to be angry, as I always do when something is out of my control. I look over to the drive and see Eddie pull up, Jules in the front seat beside him. No doubt she wants to see where Michael lives. ‘I’m going now so you’ll have to see to this mess. I don’t envy you having to deal with Father’s reaction.’

I leave my mother looking a little lost and she hugs her new friend more tightly.

I grab my bag from the hallway, eager to leave and follow Michael to Northampton. Eddie had offered to drop me off en-route to his parent’s house.

‘Damn,’ he says, starting the engine. ‘No petrol. I’ll nip down to village and get some, see you in five.’

‘I’ll just come with you,’ I tell him, annoyed at the delay and wondering why he has no petrol when Michael gave him money.

‘No, you won’t. I need you to grab me a SatNav. Didn’t you say your old man had one?’ By the time you’ve done that I’ll be back.’

He says the last part like the Terminator to make me laugh, but I am huffing and puffing, and stomp angrily back to the house.

As I run up the landing I look out of the window and see my mother and Freedom in the meadow. She is throwing him a ball and cheering when he brings it back to her. I cannot help but feel guilty for shouting at her, and think maybe I should apologise before I leave. I’ve never seen her look so happy; her blonde hair is no longer tied back, and falls prettily around her shoulders as she runs through the long grass. I continue across the landing to my parent’s bedroom and become cross once more as it takes me at least ten minutes to find what I am looking for.

I am just about to descend the staircase when I halt suddenly at the top railing. My father is home and yelling at Lillian. I suddenly realise they think they are alone in the house, Izzy is out with her friends and Mother will assume I have already left with Jules. Uncertainly, I take a few steps, then stand back in the shadows as his anger heightens. I peek over the bannister and see my mother protectively holding Freedom’s collar, who is not exactly growling at my father but his eyes are wide and his lip is curled back.

‘Get that fucking animal out of my house before I skin you alive!’

I’m shocked, as I’ve never heard him speak so aggressively, and I am frozen into silence, unable to tear my eyes away.

He makes a move towards Freedom and my mother quickly ushers her dog through the door behind her and closes it firmly, her hands trembling.

‘Don’t you dare!’ she yells back at my father. ‘Or I swear to God I will kill you!’

My father laughs nastily, and to my horror he grabs her by the throat and pushes her against the wall. Her head makes a sickening thud against the plaster but her eyes do not waver. She stares defiantly at him as he spits in her face with anger.

‘I’ve had enough you, woman! The place is a mess, you have a fucking animal in my house, and now you’re threatening me? How about I kick you out? Leave your precious house and your daughters to me, Lillian; I’ll soon have them straightened out.’

His manner is so vile I cannot recognise him as my father, and I am desperate to cry out but I am stolidly frozen in fear.

‘Do it!’ she screams, looking manic with resentment. ‘But my girls will come with me. We don’t need you, Malcolm. I’ve seen how strong Anna and Isabel are, they aren’t like me.’

‘You’ve threatened it for so long but if you ever laid a hand on either of them they would never stand for it. They aren’t children!’ He releases his grip on her neck and smooths down his jacket.

‘You’ll never leave, you stupid bitch. Don’t chime to me about your daughters, they can’t stand you. Your miserable face and the tragic martyr you’ve become. I’m going back to the city, and when I decide to come home I expect that animal gone and this house back to a respectable state.’

My mother holds her throat where he had grabbed it and makes a little laugh. ‘You won’t come back, Malcolm. I’m filing for divorce and I’ll stay at Elm Tree with Izzy and Anna. Should you have anything to say I will tell everyone about the monster you are.’

His face has gone deep red and my heart is beating fast, praying he will not attack her again.

‘No one will believe you, Lillian.’

‘Take that chance.’ She turns to face him head on, looking and sounding much braver and to me, quite magnificent. ‘Because if they do, and believe me I have collected enough proof over the years, then you will be ruined, Malcolm. No one wants to do business with a cowardly wife beater, and I will drag your name through court like it is mud.’

She opens the door and Freedom no longer looks afraid. In fact, he is barking quite ferociously at my father, who, instead of beating Lillian, picks up his bag and leaves the house in silence.

My mother bends down to praise her dog and looks up in horror as she sees me running down the stairs, tears streaming down my face as I run straight past her, ignoring her desperate voice begging me to come back.

I see my father’s Land Rover swerve to miss Eddie’s car as he drives down the lane and when I jump in, I tell him there has been a change of plan and demand they take me to the village.

***

After the village, we drive home in silence and I give Jules a less traumatic version of what has happened.

‘I knew they weren’t happy but I had no idea …’ Her voice trails off and I ask them to wait outside as I run back up to the house, finding my mother still pacing the entrance hall. ‘Oh Anna.’ She reaches for me and I allow her to hold on to me tightly. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She just looks at me as I hand her the little paper bag I have been carrying.

‘I didn’t buy any Christmas presents, what with everything, so I got this for you.’

I don’t want to talk yet about what has transpired, and she nods silently, opening the wrapping and tissue paper. Into her hand falls a soft leather collar with a shiny gold disc attached, sparkling as it catches the light and showcasing the engraved golden letters, ‘Freedom’.

A tear falls from her eyes as she smiles at me and we beckon him over. The soft collar fits beautifully and we laugh as he barks proudly.