I had looked around for photographs, hoping to catch a glimpse of my past image, but to my surprise had found none on display. I racked my brain to remember if ever there had been any framed photographs of myself around, but as usually happens whenever I try consciously to remember, my mind became a blank. Perhaps they had been too painful a reminder to Carol and Polly and had been put away somewhere to be taken out only when they could cope.
Whether my plastics business had been sold or was still running I had no way of knowing, but I was relieved to see my family seemed to be under no great hardship. Various household items confirmed this: the freezer in the kitchen, the new television set here in the lounge, various odd items of furniture scattered about the house.
Carol was still as attractive as ever, despite the telltale lines; she’d never been what you might call beautiful, but her face possessed a quality that made it seem so. Her body was still an inch away from plumpness all round, as it always had been, her legs long and gracefully curved. Ironically, for the first time as a dog, I felt physical feeling stir, a hunger aroused. I wanted my wife, but she was a woman and I was a dog.
I quickly turned my thoughts towards Polly. How she’d grown! She’d lost her baby chubbiness but retained her prettiness, fair skin and darkening hair emphasising her small, delicately featured face. I was surprised and strangely moved to see her don brown-rimmed spectacles to watch television earlier on in the evening; it seemed to make her even more vulnerable somehow. I was pleased with her; she’d grown into a gentle child, with none of the petulance or awkwardness so many of her age seemed to have. And there was a special closeness between her and her mother, perhaps a closeness born out of mutual loss.
As I had noticed before, she appeared to be about seven or eight, and I pondered over the question of how long I had been dead.
Outside, the sky had dulled as night bullied its way in, and a chill had crept into the air with it, an agitator urging the night on. Carol switched on one of those long, sleek electric fires (another new item, for we’d always insisted on open fires in the past — logs and coal and flames — but maybe that romanticism had gone with me) and settled back on the settee. Headlights suddenly brightened up the room and I heard a car crunching its way down the gravelly lane. It stopped outside and the engine purred on while gates grated their way open. Carol craned her head around and looked towards the window, then turned her attention back towards the television, tidying her hair with deft fingers and smoothing her skirt over her thighs. The car became mobile again, the glare from its lights swinging around the room and then vanishing. The engine stopped, a car door slammed, and a shadowy figure walked past the window rattling fingers against the glass as it did so.
My head jerked up and I growled menacingly, following the shadow until it had gone from view.
‘Shhh, Fluke! Settle down.’ Carol reached forward and patted the top of my head.
I heard a key going into its latch, then footsteps in the hallway. I was on my feet now. Carol grabbed my collar, concern showing on her face. My body stiffened as the door of the lounge began to open.
‘Hello .. .’ a man’s voice began to say, and he entered the room, a smile on his face.
I broke loose from Carol’s grip and went for him, a roar of rage and hate tearing itself from me. I recognised him.
It was the man who had killed me!
Eighteen
I leapt up, my teeth seeking his throat, but the man managed to get an arm between us. It was better than nothing so I sank my teeth into that instead.
Carol was screaming, but I paid her no heed; I wouldn’t let this assassin anywhere near her. He cried out at the sudden pain and grabbed at my hair with his other hand; we fell back against the door jamb and slid to the floor. My attack was ferocious for my hate was strong, and I could smell the fear in him. I relished it.
Hands grabbed me from behind and I realised Carol was trying to tug me away, obviously afraid I would kill the man. I hung on; she didn’t understand the danger she was in.
For a few snap seconds I found myself eye-to-eye with him and his face seemed so familiar. And strangely — perhaps I imagined it — there seemed to be some recognition in his eyes too. The moment soon passed and we became a frenzied heap again. Carol had her arms around my throat and was squeezing and pulling at the same time; my victim had his free hand around my nose, fingers curled into my upper jaw, and was trying to prise my grip loose. Their combined strength had its effect: I was forced to let go.
Instantly, the man slammed me in my under-belly with a clenched fist and I yelped at the pain, choking and trying to draw in breath immediately afterwards. I went straight back into the attack, but he’d had a chance to close both hands around my jaws, clamping my mouth tightly shut. I tried to rake him with my nails, but they had little effect against the suit he was wearing.
Pushing myself into him was no use either; Carol’s restraining arms around my neck held me back. I called out to her to let me go, but all that emerged from my clenched jaws was a muted growling noise.
‘Hang on to it, Carol!’ the man gasped. ‘Let’s get it out the door!’
Keeping one hand tight around my mouth, he grabbed my collar between Carol’s arms and began to drag me into the hall. Carol helped by releasing one arm from my neck and grasping my tail. They propelled me forward and tears of frustration formed in my eyes. Why was Carol helping him?
As I was dragged towards the front door, I caught a glimpse of Polly at the top of the stairs, tears streaming down her face.
‘Stay there!’ Carol called out when she, too, saw her. ‘Don’t comedown!’
‘What are you doing with Fluke, Mummy?’ she wailed. ‘Where are you taking him?’
‘It’s all right, Gillian,’ the man answered her between grunts. ‘We’ve got to get it outside.’
‘Why, why? What’s he done?’
They ignored her for, realising I was losing, I had become frantic. I squirmed my body, twisting my neck, dug my paws into the carpet. It was no use, they were too strong.
When we reached the front door he told Carol to open it, afraid to let go himself. She did and I felt the breeze rush in and ruffle my hair. With one last desperate effort I wrenched my head free and cried out, ‘Carol, it’s me, Nigel! I’ve come back to you! Don’t let him do this to me!’
But of course all she heard was a mad dog barking.
I managed to tear the sleeve of the man’s coat and draw blood from his wrist before being thrust out and having the door slammed in my face.
I jumped up and down outside, throwing myself at the door and howling. Carol’s voice came to me through the wood; she was trying to soothe Polly. Then I heard the man’s voice. The words ‘mad dog’ and ‘attacker’ reached my ears and I realised he was speaking to someone on the phone.
‘No! Don’t let him, Carol! Please, it’s me!’ I knew he was calling the police.
And sure enough, not more than five minutes later, headlights appeared at the end of the lane and a car bumped its way towards the house. I was underneath the ground floor window by now, running backwards and forwards, screaming and ranting, while Carol, Polly and the man watched me, white-faced. To my dismay, the man had his arms around both Carol’s and Polly’s shoulders.
The little blue-and-white Panda car lurched to a halt and doors flew open as though it had suddenly sprouted butterfly wings. Two dark figures leapt from it, one carrying a long pole with a loop attached to it. I knew what that was for and decided not to give them a chance to use it. I fled into the night; but not too far into it.
Later when the police had given up thrashing around in the dark in search of me, I crept back. I’d heard voices coming from the house, car doors slam, an engine start, then tyres crunching their way back down the lane. No doubt they’d be back tomorrow to give the area a thorough going over in the daylight, but for tonight I knew I’d be safe. I’d wait for the man to come out of the house and then I’d do my best to follow him — or maybe get him there and then. No, that would be foolish — it would only frighten Carol and Polly again, and Carol would probably call the police back. Besides, the man was a little too strong for me. That would be the best bet: follow him somehow — maybe I could even track his car’s scent (even cars have their own distinct smell) — then attack him,
