It was Phil who came to collect him.
When they got home, Tom was waiting, and Spider just managed to get his paws up and lick the boy’s face. The boy tried to hold on to him, but they were separated at once. Spider smelled the unsettling scent of fear, and it dawned on him that it was Tom who was going to be punished. He crept up the stairs to the bedroom he loved, and that was when the shouting started.
Tom’s dad was furious. How had the boy dropped the lead? Why had they even gone to the park, and why couldn’t Tom be trusted with the simplest thing? The dog got on to the bed, trembling, and curled up on the duvet as the shouting got louder. The boy’s voice was shaking as he tried to reply.
Phil said something, but Tom’s dad was talking about money and debt and the need to show responsibility, especially now, when things were harder than they’d ever been.
Tom started to sob, and Spider lay there, panting in fear.
“Wow,” said a voice.
The dog whined miserably, and looked up.
“Oh my word, little dog. What have you done?”
Spider whined again. He looked all around the bedroom, for he’d been certain he was alone. That was when the skylight creaked, and he heard a soft, self-satisfied chuckle. He knew at once who’d spoken: a tiny black spider was dangling from the ceiling where the window frame was broken, and as he watched, it lowered itself to a few centimetres above his head. He saw the eyes he remembered so well: Thread had found him again, and was soon right on his nose.
“Good to see you,” it said quietly. “What have you been up to, eh? Something bad, by the sound of it. Something stupid?”
“I don’t know what happened.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
“I think you do. I can tell truth from lies, you know—and you’re not being honest.”
“Look, it wasn’t my fault,” said Spider. “I got lost, and I panicked! I just… ran for it.”
“Where did you go?”
“Through a wood and out, into a road, and—”
“Into the road, eh? Ah, that’s your nature, you see.”
“Is it?”
“You’re out of control. You’re what’s called a ‘bad dog’.”
“I’m not bad! I just didn’t think about it, Thread. I was looking for home and I got confused.”
“Where’s home, though? You’re an unwanted mongrel, don’t forget. This isn’t your home.”
“It is. I think it is.”
“It was, perhaps. But you’re on trial, remember? What they really wanted was a cat.”
Spider stood up, and found that he was barking.
“No,” he said. “They did not want a cat—or Tom didn’t. And they wouldn’t do anything hasty. I mean, OK, I’ve just caused a problem, but…”
“What?”
Spider blinked and shook his head. He became aware of his protruding tooth and tried to close his mouth properly, turning a complete circle on the bed.
“Oh my goodness,” he said. “This is dreadful.”
“It’s the end, I’d say. It’s a disaster.”
“I am to blame.”
“You certainly are.”
“Tom’s going to be held responsible, isn’t he? For the damage, I mean.”
“Was there much?”
“There was glass everywhere! And bashed-in cars…”
Spider closed his eyes as he remembered how the van had been spun round and smashed. He shook himself harder, and the spider clung to his fur, laughing.
“Look,” said the dog. “You’re not helping me, Thread. Why are you even here? Did you follow me?”
“You didn’t notice?”
“No!”
“Ah, so you’re thick-skinned and insensitive, too. I had second thoughts, buddy—just as you were leaving. I jumped on to your back, and here I am. That window up there is perfect, so I’ve landed on my feet, so to speak.”
“You’re going to stay there?”
“Why not?”
“You can’t just move in! This is Tom’s bedroom.”
“Mine, too, dog. I’ve made myself comfortable, and the food’s been good so far. Tell me what happened, though—what made you bolt?”
Spider stared at the little spider, and its eyes gazed back into his own. He flopped down on to his side, and told the whole, sad story from beginning to end. He talked about the park, and the strange boy on the bike. He described the grey dog, and the tunnels, and when he finally got to the carnage in the road he realized that, once again, Thread was laughing.
“What?” said Spider. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m thinking about Tom. How old is he?”
“Eleven.”
“Yes. And he’s out of control—like you.”
Spider rolled over suddenly, rubbing his head hard on the nearest pillow.
“Get off me, Thread! That boy’s done nothing wrong!”
“Oh, come on, dog,” cried the spider, shifting to Spider’s ear. “He’s a total disaster. Look at this room, for a start. You can tell a lot by the habitat, and that kid is plain uncivilized. The whole house is a tip, to be honest—not that it bothers me, because I thrive on mess. But I’d say this family is unstable—where’s the mother?”
“I don’t know. I’ve wondered that too.”
“There’s a photograph on the shelf. It’s been turned to the wall, so what’s happening there? And why is she calling him every day?”
“You don’t listen! I keep my ears open, and I can tell you something: she calls him every day, and he won’t even speak to her. This is a dysfunctional family, from top to bottom. Get out while you can—you’re better off as a stray.”
Spider let out a short, agonized whine. “No! Where would I go?”
“Somewhere else. They’ll be calling the dogs’ home any minute, and you don’t want to end up there.”
“A dogs’ home? What’s a dogs’ home?”
“It’s a kind of prison. The pets go in, but they don’t often come out.”
“That’s not possible! Tom likes me, Thread. He loves me—”
“But Dad’s the big boss, isn’t he?”
“Maybe, but—”
“He’s got a short fuse, too, and he won’t be listening to the kid. You just pray you don’t end up in a river, because I’ve seen that happen, too. A brick round your neck, and you’re stuck in a sack. One big splash, and down you go. You could even face the lab if they decide to sell you.”
Spider blinked.
“You know what the lab is?” said Thread quietly.
“No.”
“Boy, oh boy, you’re green. Welcome to the world, dog—you’re going to have to learn about it. A lab is a laboratory, and they’re the worst of the worst. I don’t want to scare you, but I’ve spoken to bugs that have been inside them, and they tell me the whole story—it’s another place for rejects like you. Lines of animals, chained up in cages. That’s when the white coats come by, and you have to stand there and take it. Shampoo in the eyes, electric shocks… Cigarette smoke! Crikey, they force it down your lungs till your fur drops out—that gives you cancer, and they sit there making notes. Dog after dog, so I’m told—hundreds of them—all puffing away with their paws wired together.”
“That’s impossible—”
“It’s reality, friend, so don’t shoot the messenger. I told you when we met: I’m the truth teller. You want fairy tales? Find a book, and learn to read.”
“No,” said Spider. “I’m not listening any more. Tom wouldn’t send me away—we’ve bonded.”
The spider laughed again, and wound itself upwards.
“I’d make a run for it, puppy dog. I can hear footsteps, so you’d better make your mind up. Fight or flight, those are the options. That’s nature, and creatures like you—”
“It’s Tom! He’s coming.”
“With the brick, I’ll bet. Get ready—”
“No! And I’m never running off again. Ever!”
Thread disappeared into the skylight above, and Spider found he was trembling all over. The fur on his back was sticking up as if he’d been electrocuted, and when Tom appeared in the doorway he found he was cowering. He moved back against the wall and lifted a paw.
Tom stopped.
“Oh, Spider,” he said.
Spider hung his head. He couldn’t look up, for the boy’s voice was so full of tears, and his face was wet.
“Spider,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
The dog waited, too confused to even whimper. He could hear the pain, and it dawned on him that this really was the end. Tom had already had enough—he’d been let down by the one he loved, and the experiment was over. He sat on the bed wearily, and looked at his pet.
“It wasn’t your fault,” said the boy. “Come here—come on. It was my mistake, OK? I should never have dropped the lead. I nearly got you killed, but I didn’t think. I just… It was that kid, Rob Tayler. I hate him, Spider. He was yelling at me—all the usual stuff—so I just got confused. And I… I let go.”
Tom drew Spider into his arms.
“I really thought I’d lost you, boy. I ran after you and… You’re the only dog I’ve ever owned. I didn’t know what I was doing, and Dad’s so angry because we’re broke again. We’re always, always broke, and he says he should never have got you, but I told him…”
Spider managed a lick. He crept closer, and felt both Tom’s arms round his neck.
“I love you, OK?” said the boy softly.
He drew the dog on to his lap.
“Dad says we should have got a cat, but that’s not true. Cats are selfish, horrible things—I hate them. We’re going to put this behind us and show him what an amazing, wonderful dog you are—because you are. He’ll see it one day, Spider. You’re the best, and we’ll show him.”