The Last Family in England Read online

  sound

  There was a sound.

  whimper

  Above the wind outside, a high-pitched whimper was coming from Charlotte’s room. And a smell. The familiar fragrance of Adam’s naked feet. I watched, through bleary eyes, as they stopped in front of me. His toes twitched. Some sort of decision was clearly being made at the other end of his pyjamas.

  He leaned towards Charlotte’s door.

  ‘Lottie?’ he whispered.

  No answer.

  ‘Charlotte, sweetheart. Are you OK?’

  Another whimper.

  He gently pushed her door open. She was sitting up in bed, clutching a corner of duvet. The scent in the room was familiar. It had been there the night when Grandma Margaret had babysat and threatened her with a wooden spoon (which I am sure would have been used without my intervention). It was there when Hal had screamed at her and told her, in a primal moment of sibling rage, that he would come into her room in the middle of the night and throw her out of the window. And it was there when she had discovered, not so very long ago, the first traces of blood in her knickers and been too frightened and embarrassed to tell anybody. Apart from me.

  But now, if possible, the scent was even stronger.

  ‘Oh, Charlotte, baby,’ said Adam, sitting next to her on the bed. ‘Come on, don’t cry.’

  Charlotte’s arms rested heavy on her lap and, although we were close by, she seemed to be completely on her own. Transported to a separate world of sorrow.

  Adam felt this too and realised words wouldn’t be enough to bring her back. He wanted to comfort her. Touch her, hold her.

  He hesitated. Rubbed his face, tired.

  There were less areas he could go for now. Since her body had started to swell her towards womanhood, he’d been very careful. Although this was a particularly difficult problem to identify with, I did sense his anxiety as he sat next to her, his hand hovering above her knee, trying to remember where her neutral zones were.

  Eventually, he went for an arm around her shoulders. It was awkward, at first, and we half-expected Charlotte to flinch away. She didn’t. Instead, her head reluctantly fell onto Adam’s chest as she began to convulse with grief.

  ‘Grandpa,’ the word was muffled, but the despair in her voice, and her scent, was all too clear.

  ‘I know, Lottie,’ said Adam.

  I had a feeling of complete powerlessness. There was absolutely nothing I could do to amend the situation, or even to make them feel better. The Pact does not equip you for those moments. The moments when pain is present without danger.

  But still, I wanted to help.

  I cared for them, that was the thing.

  Until that moment – watching Charlotte as she buried herself in Adam’s pyjama jacket, trying to make everything go away – my concern for the Family had neatly translated as adherence to the Pact. Yet there I was, outside the scene I was smelling, unable to have any influence.

  But no: these are thoughts I am having now, sniffing back. At the time, I did not doubt the Pact. I felt confused, sure, and wanted to make things better. There was no disloyalty though. I was still learning; there were things I didn’t know. I didn’t fully understand the dual nature of pain, that as well as tearing Families apart it could also bring them closer together.

  And of course, even knowing what I know now, even after having committed those horrific deeds, there would still be nothing I could do. Nothing to stop the sad-smells.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  It was Kate. Realising her question needed no answer, she too moved into the room and sat on the bed. Charlotte, immediately comforted by her presence, lifted herself up from Adam’s chest to snuggle herself into her mother’s.

  ‘Why do people have to die?’ asked Charlotte, drying her face with her hand. ‘It’s so unfair.’

  Kate swallowed her own grief and glanced at Adam. ‘I am sure that wherever Grandpa is now, he is looking down on us all, right as we speak.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said Charlotte. ‘He’s gone for ever. We’re all going to go for ever. There’s nothing else.’

  Faced with this new realisation, Charlotte looked as though she was on the verge of being sick. Both parents hugged her now, while Hal could be heard leaving his bed to head for the bathroom. There were pissing sounds, quickly drowned out by the loud flush of toilet water.

  Moments later he was also sitting on his sister’s bed.

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t cry. He didn’t join in the huddle of grief next to him. In fact, to the untrained nose he may have seemed too tired for any emotion at all. But as I went over and sniffed him, as I tried to cancel out the scent of his boxer shorts, I could detect a deep and stifling sadness smell as heavy as the others’.

  His parents continued to comfort his sister.

  ‘Come on, Charlotte, you’ve got to be strong.’

  ‘You’ve got to make Grandpa proud.’

  Eventually, and with one hand still resting on his daughter’s back, Adam turned to Hal and asked if he was OK.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he responded. ‘I’m really fine.’

  The last ‘fine’ was almost inaudible as a heavy gust of wind pushed against the window. Hal smiled, resilient, but in his eyes there was something else. Something which wouldn’t be hugged away. Something which suggested the darkness and growing threat of the world outside, beyond the Family.

  Beyond my protection.

  The Labrador Pact: Learn from your elders

  In the early stages of their mission, young Labradors need guidance and instruction and it is the responsibility of elder members of our breed to provide such help. The Pact needs to be interpreted and applied to each individual mission, and only those with considerable experience will be able to help younger Labradors in this task.

  To disobey or to overrule our elders is to undermine the sacred order which has helped us protect our human masters throughout history.

  good

  Night-time in the park was bonding time. Me and Adam. No other dogs to distract us. In the morning, however, the park became something else. A training ground.

  ‘Duty over all.’

  ‘Duty over all.’

  I had never been more pleased to see Henry’s golden face. Even his scent reassured me.

  ‘I sense you are worried, Prince. Is something wrong? Is your Family in danger?’

  Every morning since my mission started he had tutored me in what it meant to be a good Labrador, and in what I should do to live my life in accordance with the Pact. If anyone could tell me what to do, it was him.

  ‘I don’t know. Kate’s father died. Grandma Margaret is coming to stay. Everyone’s upset.’

  ‘That is only natural, Prince.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But I am worried about what it will mean, for the future.’

  ‘You have no need to worry, Prince. You are doing well. Just remember, everything is in your control.’

  ‘But –’ I stopped, seeing a Springer spaniel charge over towards us.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Henry. ‘Here comes a Springer.’

  principles

  The Springer hurtled into Henry, knocking him onto the ground. Then, as Henry struggled back upright, the Springer tried to mount him, thrusting aggressively a few times before charging off again without saying a word.

  I hated it when that happened. And I have to say, it happened a lot. To most of the dogs we came across in the park, Henry was seen as something of a joke. Of course, all Labradors are ridiculed from time to time, especially by Springers. That is only inevitable. Our principles, as decreed in the Pact, are viewed as out of date. After all, this is an age where canine duty and sacrifice have been replaced by the relentless pursuit of pleasure and only the slightest regard for our human masters.

  Henry, however, had it tougher than most.

  He wasn’t much of a socialiser, and never hid his disdain for sniffaholics. ‘Sniffing must always have a purpose beyond sensation,’ he mainta
ined. He was viewed, I suppose, as humourless and over-serious (an impression reinforced by his former police sniffer dog status). His mind was always on higher things.

  Well, that is what I thought. Looking back now, I realise how much he must have kept contained. How much pain he must have been feeling. How much guilt.

  But at the time I loved and respected this wise old Labrador unconditionally. His complete devotion to the cause appeared nothing short of heroic. I would look up at him, follow his ponderous jawline as it pointed skyward, and yearn for his respect.

  ‘I pity him,’ Henry said, gesturing towards the Springer’s owner. ‘What hope does he have, living with him? He might as well just have a cat. And I need not remind you that that is why the humans are in turmoil. Most no longer have dogs, and the ones that do rarely opt for Labradors.’

  I remembered something he had told me on a previous occasion. ‘But I thought that, providing Labradors follow their duty, every Family has a chance. Even the dogless.’

  Henry hesitated, stepped backwards into the flowerbed, and cocked his leg. ‘In theory, yes, Prince. That is true. As the Pact says, “Protect one Family, protect all”. But our influence is waning. We cannot ignore the fact that the Springer Uprising has had a very real impact. When every dog followed their duty, almost every Family in England was safe, regardless of the pet they chose. Even those without any pet at all could often be saved, such was our species’ influence on human society. Now though, Families are falling apart everywhere. We must no longer worry too much about the fate of other humans, we must concentrate on those in our immediate care.’

  ‘But you care about my Family.’

  ‘That is true, Prince. That is true. But that is because your Family can be saved. You are a Labrador and you understand what that means.’ He looked over at his own master, Mick, who was busy talking to Adam on a park bench. As always, Adam didn’t really seem to be listening to what he was saying, concentrating instead on the massive newly built house which shadowed them.

  I didn’t know much about Mick as Henry disclosed little concerning his own mission. Henry was older than me, much older, as old as the park itself. It was his right to remain quiet. You didn’t question your elders, not if you were a Labrador. But I didn’t need to question. The fact was: Mick had Henry. Therefore if Mick had a Family he had a happy one. Henry knew the Pact, its history, and its implications, better than anyone I’d ever met. Furthermore, he was an expert teacher, drawing (I assumed) on his own personal experience. So I didn’t need Henry to tell me everything about Mick. I had faith.

  And anyway, I knew some things. I knew Mick used to be in the police force, with Henry by his side, but now was too old. I knew, as Adam had told Kate, that ‘he could talk for England’. I knew that he lived with Henry in one of the small, old houses across the street from the park. I knew, and the wind knew too, that the strands of hair which stretched across the top of his head didn’t really belong there. But that was about it.

  I saw a woman once, leaving Henry’s house. A woman with a sad face and even sadder scent. She smelt too unhappy to be part of any Family Henry looked after, but then, I thought, she could have been having a bad day.

  Henry continued, still looking over at the park bench: ‘You must, at any time of change, be careful. But you needn’t panic. I know this is the first time you have faced such a situation, but hopefully I have prepared you well. You must stay strong at all times. No matter how bad things become, no matter how many Family arguments there are, or how many times you are completely ignored, never forget that you are in control. That you have the power to make everything all right. Do you understand? Will you be strong?’

  ‘I do,’ I told him, with fresh confidence. ‘I will.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ he said, observing Mick and Adam stand up and start to walk over. ‘It looks like we won’t have time for this morning’s lesson – Advanced Wag Control. We will have to save it for tomorrow.’

  As they walked over towards us, I noticed that Mick was more animated than usual, and even more eager to carry on talking. I could hear his voice: ‘I tell you, these youngsters you get nowadays, they don’t even know they’re born half the time. They take everything for granted then throw it all away. I mean look, look at that –’ (he gestured with his foot towards a broken bottle on the ground). ‘It’s disgraceful. They come in here on weekends, get drunk out of their faces, take drugs and get up to God knows what else. Mind you, I don’t need to tell you.’

  Adam was surprised by this comment, probably unable to decide whether Mick was referring to his status as a parent or a teacher. ‘Well, I do see quite a few cases at school,’ he said. ‘But a lot of these kids have big problems, you know, at home. Parents on heroin, that sort of thing. Lots of really sad abuse cases as well. Given all the problems they’ve got to cope with, no wonder they struggle with their GCSEs. They just feel there’s no hope to begin with. It sounds weird, with me being a teacher there, but I’d never have sent my two to Rosewood.’

  Henry suddenly seemed uncomfortable, and jumped up at Mick in a bid to get him to go home. But Mick was too absorbed in the conversation to pay much attention.

  ‘Well that’s the liberal perspective, I suppose,’ he said, as red blotches emerged around his neck and anger-smells floated across the air. ‘Blame everything on the wider “issues”. I’m more of a traditionalist myself, mind. These problems didn’t exist when we were young, that’s all I know. I just think we’ve chickened out, gone soft. Scared to treat kids like kids. The teachers and police and everyone are just powerless to do anything –’ Henry jumped higher, licking his master’s face. ‘OK, come on. I’ll take you home.’

  Mick and Adam clipped on our leads, both smelling equally worked up.

  ‘Remember: be strong,’ Henry reminded me, pulling his master home.

  ‘Yes, Henry. I’ll remember.’

  cleaning

  Kate, who had taken the week off work, was on her hands and knees cleaning out one of the kitchen cupboards. She had cleaned every room since she came back from Grandma Margaret’s, and now she was starting again.

  ‘This house is so messy,’ she kept on telling me.

  I had followed her around, trying to cheer her up, or at least offer support. But no matter how hard I wagged, the sad-smells weren’t lifting. They just lay in the air mingling with the sharp scent of detergent.

  Every now and again Kate would stop, sit back on her heels, and bring her hand – the one which wasn’t holding the blue cloth – up towards her face. Each time, I thought she was going to cry but she didn’t. Instead, she took deep breaths and then resumed cleaning, even more vigorously than before.

  When I heard the key in the door my heart lifted.

  ‘Mum, what are you doing?’ It was Hal.

  ‘I’m trying to sort everything out. This house is so messy.’

  ‘It looks cleaner and tidier than ever.’

  Again she sat back, and again she raised her hand. This time, the tears broke through. ‘I just want . . . I just want to be doing something . . . I just . . .’

  Hal placed his schoolbag down on the kitchen table and went slowly over to hold the raised hand. ‘I know, Mum. I know. It’s going to be OK.’

  A little later and Adam came home. He went up to Kate from behind and put his arm around her stomach. ‘You smell gorgeous,’ he said, before kissing the back of her neck.

  Kate winced. ‘Please, Adam, don’t. I don’t want you to . . . touch. Please.’

  sign

  The next morning in the park Mick barely spoke, leaving Adam to gaze uninterrupted at the massive new house and at the sign which said: ‘FOR SALE’.

  Henry sniffed me, as he always did, to smell my progress.

  ‘How have things been since yesterday’s meeting?’ he asked me, with typical formality.

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  ‘There have been no arguments?’

  ‘No. No arguments.’

  ‘You have observe
d everything?’

  ‘Everything I could.’

  ‘And no sign of trouble?’

  I thought of Kate, crying in the kitchen, and I told him about it.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You must pay special attention to today’s lesson. We’ve covered Wag Control previously but today it’s Advanced Wag Control.’ Henry stood up and placed himself in front of me at a horizontal angle. ‘So far I’ve told you when to wag and when not to, but what we haven’t talked about is how fast.’

  I thought of my own efforts, the day before, to try and wag away Kate’s sadness. Perhaps that was why it hadn’t worked. Perhaps I’d got the speed wrong.

  ‘Now as we’ve discussed before, tail-wagging is of fundamental importance in the preservation of Family well-being. After all, Prince, this is one of the few aspects of our communication system that humans are able to recognise.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, ready to digest more information.

  ‘And although humans don’t always realise it, the speed of our wag directly impacts on their own happiness. Our tails dictate the rhythm of Family life.’ His tail started to move from side to side in slow swooshes, then picked up speed progressively.

  A red setter on the other side of the park was on her back, laughing at Henry’s display.

  ‘We wag slow,’ Henry explained, ‘and things calm. We wag fast, things speed up. Fast-wagging can be a very useful way of lifting the general mood, but once a state of Family harmony has been achieved, a moderate wag, accompanied by a casual stroll such as this is usually sufficient to maintain an atmosphere of general happiness. But remember you must, as always, strike a balance between being too obvious and not being noticed at all . . .’