Harriet, Gus, Max and Honey were heroes. At playtime everyone gathered round Harriet and asked her to tell the story. The principal congratulated her at assembly.
“Gosh, you were brave,” said Amanda.
“Were you scared?” asked Tim.
“What a sensible girl you are,” said her teacher.
Even the local newspaper ran the story with photographs of her, Gus, Max and Honey. After that, people recognised Harriet wherever she went. “Aren’t you the girl who found the old woman?” they all wanted to know. The only cloud on the horizon was when the Howards asked Harriet if she knew how Max had got loose that night, but was back in his kennel, tied up, the next morning.
To tell the truth, Harriet got rather tired of it, and she thought Honey was getting sick of being patted by strangers whenever they went out. After a couple of days, she and Honey stayed home and played in the garden. Except that Honey wouldn’t go round the side of the house next to the Martins. When Harriet went there, Honey stopped by the corner with her tail right down between her legs, and whined.
“What’s wrong, Honey?” Harriet asked. Later that afternoon, when Brutus sent out his deep, loud bark, Honey ran to Harriet and cringed beside her. “You’re scared of Brutus – just like me!”
Honey was still sleeping in Harriet’s room on that side of the house, but being upstairs was different from just over the fence. Her mother had found an old blanket and put it in a carton.
“Honey’s not to sleep on your bed,” she said, and Honey always started off in the carton. It was funny, though, that when Harriet woke up in the morning, Honey was on the bed looking at her with soft eyes.
“But I don’t put her there,” protested Harriet, “she jumps up when I’m asleep.”
“We’ll go shopping for doggy supplies this weekend,” said her father. “We’ll get her a proper basket, a collar and lead, and all the things Mr Jacobs said we’d need. Then Honey can sleep in the laundry. And we need to make a start on obedience training.”
Harriet sighed. She wondered if Gus and Max had had obedience training. Still, her father had absolutely changed his mind about dogs and maybe it was the price to be paid. And she had liked it when Max walked calmly beside her instead of straining ahead – almost pulling her arm out of its socket – which is what happened when she took Honey for a walk.
Come Saturday, they sat at the kitchen table making a list when Honey gave an excited yip. A moment later there was a knock on the door.
Harriet ran to open it. On the doorstep stood Mr Jacobs and Mr and Mrs Howard. Max and Gus stood beside them, their tails wagging. There were several boxes wrapped up in brown paper.
“Oh!” said Harriet, “all my favourite people!” She knelt down next to Gus and Max and hugged them. Honey just about wagged her hindquarters off.
“Do come in,” said Harriet’s mother. “I’ll make coffee.”
“I’ll get more chairs,” said Harriet’s father.
Soon everyone was sitting round the table drinking coffee and eating peanut brownies. The dogs had been sent outside to get on with their sniffing greetings. Brutus was out on a walk, so Honey went with them quite happily.
“We’re just the chauffeurs,” explained Mr Jacobs. “Gus and Max wanted to see Harriet and Honey, and they’ve got house-warming presents for Honey.”
Mr Howard lifted the biggest box on to the table. “Harriet, you’ll have to do the honours for Honey.”
Harriet pulled off the paper. It was a dog basket with a green, polar fleece blanket.
“Green’s the only colour dogs recognise,” explained Mr Jacobs.
“It’s perfect,” said Harriet, “thank you so much.”
The smaller parcels were a yellow, leather collar and nylon lead (“honey-coloured!” exclaimed Harriet), a food bowl with bones painted on it, a brush and comb set, and a packet of freeze-dried liver treats.
“Oh!” Harriet kept saying as she unwrapped each parcel. “Honey will love this.”
Mrs Howard raised her coffee mug: “I think this calls for a toast,” she said. “Let’s drink to Harriet and Honey!” Everyone clinked their mugs together.
“And another toast to Gus and Max: enterprising dogs who do amazing things even though they sometimes break the rules!” said Mr Jacobs.
Everyone laughed.
“There’s one more thing,” said Mr Jacobs. He looked at Harriet seriously. “Harriet, you probably saved an old woman’s life the other night. You understood what the dogs wanted you to do, and you were extremely brave and sensible.”
He paused. “What you don’t know is that the old woman is my sister, Mrs Madeleine Bell.”
Harriet stared at him. That old lady was Mr Jacobs’ sister!
“Yes,” he continued, “she’s lived in the Old House for many years and seldom comes out during the day. I suppose you’d call her a recluse. Of course, to me, she’s my brilliant, beautiful, older sister – a wonderful pianist and singer, splendid hostess, loving wife and mother – until it all came crashing down.”
Harriet could hardly breathe.
“When her son was twelve years old, he caught a terrible sickness – poliomyelitis – and died. A few weeks later her husband was drowned.”
Harriet’s mother closed her eyes. Her father took her hand. Another Toby, thought Harriet.
Mr Jacobs sighed. “She never got over it. She retreated into that house and has lived in isolation for years, the house gradually falling down around her. I came back from Canada to be close to her, and sometimes she lets me look after her. But she often doesn’t answer the phone when I ring. I might not have found her for several days – that would probably have been too late.”
He passed another parcel over to Harriet. “This is for you, Harriet, from me. I want to thank you very much for what you did for Maddy.”
Harriet was feeling overwhelmed and her mouth was dry. “Thank you, Mr Jacobs,” she said. “I have to check on the dogs.” She scraped her chair back and went outside. Her mind was churning. She could see the page of the book: ‘To Maddy, with much love from Teddy’ – the old lady and Mr Jacobs.
She stood on the front lawn and gathered her thoughts. The gate had been left open, so she went to close it. The three dogs came rushing towards her, snapping at one another and yelping with the fun of it. My very, very best friends, thought Harriet. They all reached the gate together. At the same moment Mrs Martin arrived back next door with Brutus.
“Hello Harriet,” she smiled.
Brutus snarled and showed all his teeth. Harriet felt a stab of fear. He leapt forward, jerking the leash from Mrs Martin’s hand. Honey gave one high, terrified yelp and ran towards the road.
“NO!” screamed Harriet and ran after her.
In a flash, Gus took it all in – the stream of traffic, the headlong rush of the dogs, and Harriet’s legs carrying her towards disaster. He bounded after her. Horns blared and tyres screeched as cars tried to stop. He reached her and flung himself in front of her, knocking her back towards the pavement. There was a sickening thud and the deafening bang of a car crashing into another.
Harriet sprawled on the side of the road, knees and hands raw and bleeding. People were shouting but their voices came from far away. She pushed herself up slowly, unaware of her wounds. She did not see the crashed cars, nor her parents running towards her. She did not notice that Honey was safe on the other side of the road, nor that Brutus had been dragged away.
She saw only Gus lying still, a black heap on the road, and Max standing beside him. She limped over to them and crouched down. Max raised his head and pulled his lips back in a grimace of pain. He sent a terrible cry into the sky. Harriet toppled sideways, laid her head on Gus’s back, and sobbed. An anthem of howls rose from the neighbouring streets.