He cleared a space in the curls of wood and swept the wood dust to one side with his arm. He took a piece of paper and after a moment’s thought he wrote:
He wrapped the little carving up in a twist of black paper and placed it in a box. He folded the letter and was about to wrap them together when he decided to take out the figure for one last look.
The dark-stained, wooden dog was a Labrador – old, trustworthy, kindly, intelligent. The carving looked as though it would bark at any moment. He knew it was the best thing he’d done.
He hoped Harriet would understand it was his way of saying sorry that Gus had died, and sorry for the danger he’d put them all in.
‘Staunch’ was his word for Harriet. He hoped she might want to see him again next time he visited Gran and Pop.
She had a job opening the parcel with one hand out of action. Inside was something wrapped in black paper.
She read the note and removed the paper.
Then she stood the figure next to the carving of Max on her dressing table. They looked so real! It was as if they were about to go off on an errand.
Harriet swallowed hard. They looked right together, but she knew she would give the carving of Gus to Mr Jacobs.
It was funny how someone whom Harriet had felt she couldn’t quite trust had done a carving of Gus that caught the essence of his trustworthiness.
Another mystery, she thought, but decided that’s what made life so interesting.