Aunt Vera screamed for her husband. The committee ladies all left, but not before Lady Clarion had explained how Malachy Campbell had once tried to sell her this very dog – it had been thinner then, to be sure, but she would know it anywhere by its ears! Now Lotti hunched by the French windows clutching a trembling Federico as she tried to explain herself to her incandescent uncle and distraught aunt.
‘I didn’t steal him, I rescued him,’ she insisted. ‘It was so cruel, the way Mr Campbell was keeping him. Someone had to do something …’
‘Do something?’ thundered Uncle Hubert. ‘I’ll show you something! I am going to call the police.’
He strode out into the hall where the telephone was kept. There was a brief, shouted conversation, then he marched back in again.
‘I spoke to that constable, Albert Skinner,’ he raged to his wife. ‘He says no one’s reported the dog’s theft; says this Campbell character’s a well-known crook and probably stole the dog in the first place. Then when I ordered him to fetch the creature himself, he had the nerve to tell me he’s off on leave! Someone can come up from the dog pound tomorrow, he said. So now –’ he glared at Lotti – ‘on top of harbouring an actual thief, we have to shelter the little brute as well.’
He lunged forward and seized Federico by the scruff of the neck. The little dog tried to howl but his throat was pulled too tight and he choked.
‘You’re hurting him!’
Lotti forgot that she was afraid of her uncle. Still holding Federico by the neck, Hubert Netherbury marched out of the drawing room down the servants’ corridor to the scullery, roaring for Sally to open up the coal cellar. Pulling, punching, kicking, Lotti fought him every step of the way. Again and again he pushed her aside. Again and again she returned to fight.
But she was so much smaller than her uncle. Sally, tight-lipped, opened the door to the coal cellar. Lotti tried to bar the way, but Hubert Netherbury pushed her out of the way with one hand and threw Federico downstairs as if neither weighed more than a feather.
Then he turned to his niece.
This time, when he slapped her, Lotti saw stars.
Her head was still spinning when he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back along the corridor and up the stairs to her room.
‘Savage!’ he thundered, as he flung her inside.
He slammed the door behind her and locked it.
‘Let me out!’ screamed Lotti. ‘This is my house! You can’t lock me in!’
‘I can do what I damn well want until you’re twenty-one!’ her uncle bellowed back. ‘You’ll stay in there until I can find a school desperate enough to take you!’
Lotti kicked the door.
‘I won’t go to school! And I won’t let you send Federico to the pound!’
And then Lotti’s blood froze as her uncle began to laugh. ‘Oh, there’s no fear of that,’ said Hubert Netherbury, and somehow it was more frightening when he spoke softly than when he shouted. ‘The pound’s much too good for the little brute. I’ll arrange for him to be shot instead.’
*
Sally came up later with a tray of food and found Lotti sitting on the floor with her back against the wall.
‘I’m not hungry.’ Lotti’s voice was hoarse from screaming, her face puffy from crying.
Sally put the tray down and joined Lotti on the floor.
‘Want a hug?’
Lotti nodded and began to cry again. They sat quietly for a while with Sally’s broad arms wrapped round Lotti’s slight frame, until at last her sobs subsided and they were able to talk.
‘I got news,’ said Sally. ‘You ready to hear it?’
Lotti sniffed.
‘Your uncle’s found a school that’ll take you,’ said Sally. ‘It’s called St Winifred’s Academy for Girls, and it’s in Pembrokeshire. Lady Clarion recommended it, so you can imagine what your aunt’s like, all thank you, your gracious ladyship, etc. Snob. You’re to leave on Sunday, the day after tomorrow. I’m to see you on to the train. I’m sorry, Lots. I know it’s the last thing you wanted.’
Strange, thought Lotti, how she didn’t even care. Her uncle could send her to the planet Mars for all the difference it would make. Only one thing mattered now.
‘And Federico?’
‘Oh, Lots.’ Sally’s arm tightened round Lotti’s shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. A lad’s coming from Home Farm tomorrow to put him down, before your uncle and aunt leave for Scotland.’
So that was that, thought Lotti, dully. Poor, darling, naughty Federico. She had tried to rescue him and instead condemned him to death. She shivered, remembering her night in the coal cellar at school, the awful loneliness stretching on and on.
Lotti frowned. The night that stretched on and on …
Federico wasn’t dead yet. There was a night, a whole night, in which to rescue him from the coal cellar. She could smuggle him down to the Sparrowhawk! Ben would help – Clara too, probably. Together they would find a way …
Lotti wriggled out of Sally’s arms.
‘Sally,’ she said. ‘Will you help me?’
*
How noisy a house is, when you need it to be quiet!
Lotti, fully dressed, lay under her bedcovers. She listened to her aunt and uncle come upstairs, heard the sound of the bathroom taps, their muffled voices, then at last silence. Shortly after midnight Sally tapped softly on Lotti’s door and turned the key in the lock.
Down the landing they padded, as softly as possible, but how loud the squeak of the floorboards, how creaky the stairs … And Lotti’s heart!
Surely, someone would hear her heart!
They paused in the hall to make sure no one was following, then crept towards the servants’ corridor. As they approached the scullery, Federico heard them and began to howl.
‘Soon as I open the door, you grab him and get him out of here,’ Sally hissed. ‘And for lawks’ sake, make him shut up.’
‘What are you going to do?’ whispered Lotti.
‘I’m going to pile up the coal under the delivery hatch, then I’m going to shove it open. Make it look like the dog climbed up and pushed his way out.’
‘Uncle will never believe it.’
‘You got a better plan?’
Down into the coal cellar they went, and again Lotti shivered at memories of school. But then into her arms leaped Federico. She clamped her hand round his muzzle to silence him, at the same time showering him with kisses.
‘Go,’ urged Sally.
In a world of shadows, under the beaming moon, Lotti and Federico ran through the garden and out on to the hills. They entered the woods. The scent of bluebells rose to meet them, heady and sweet in the night air. Lotti pushed away memories of her parents. Now was not the time to think of those lovely evenings lingering in the woods. But then as they approached the canal, a nightingale began to sing, and she doubled over with the punch of another memory.
Evening, high summer, overlooking a river, an adult voice singing in a garden.
Chante, rossignol, chante, toi qui a le coeur gai … Sing, nightingale, sing, you whose heart is light …
Lotti picked Federico up and held him close again.
No more running. Federico was saved, but they were still going to be separated. She was still being sent away.
Lotti, whose heart was not light but heavy, walked slowly the rest of the distance to the Sparrowhawk, to make her final moments with Federico last.