The Runaways (12 page)

Before the first month was out he found a way to write to his brother-in-law, Albert, and his sister, Ethel. One day the dogs' meat man (who had taken a liking to Smiler) said he was going down to Southampton on a Saturday to see a football match. He asked Smiler if he would like to come along. So, Smiler took a Saturday off and worked the Sunday and went with him. In Southampton he posted a letter to Albert and Ethel. It read:

Dear Sis and Albert, Don't worry about me I am doing fine and am shipping to sea for six months. Cant tell you the name natcheraly. Not to worry I am in the pink.

Samuel M.

Albert – against his will, but forced by Ethel – took the letter to the Bristol police. They passed the information on to the Southampton police, and the Southampton police made a few enquiries around the docks and shipping companies but ‘ natcheraly' got nowhere!

So there was Smiler, nicely settled between Danebury House and Ford Cottage. The weeks went by. February, which was a real fill-the-dyke month that year, passed. March came with its high winds and occasional days which were hot enough to make one think of summer. The hazel and willow catkins bloomed and the snowdrops gave way to daffodils and crocuses. The drab flat winter grasses began to show a faint new green. In the gardens there was early almond and cherry blossom. Once or twice smart snowstorms returned to remind everyone that winter wasn't going to pass without a few last skirmishes.

Every fortnight Smiler went into Warminster and bought himself a tube of dye and some tanning lotion from Woolworth's to give his hair and face a new dressing. Every time he did so Mrs Lakey would look at him the next morning oddly. Miss Milly would smile over the kitchen table at lunch-time and think how brown and healthy Johnny was from all the outdoor work.

Once when Smiler was in Woolworth's buying his dye and sun-tan, he also went on to the electrical counter to get a battery for the transistor set from the cottage which he still used at night.

As he was looking over the display; a voice said, ‘Hullo, you.'

Smiler looked up to find himself meeting the dark eyes of Ivy (who liked to be called Pat) Bagnall.

‘Hullo,' said Smiler.

‘You're Johnny Pickering, aren't you? Remember me?'

Smiler said, ‘Course I do. Pat Bagnall.'

‘How you been then?' asked Pat.

‘Not bad.'

‘You still living in Warminster?'

‘Yes, sort of. Just outside.'

‘Ever go to the Youth Club?'

‘No. I don't go for that scene.'

‘You ought to try it. Like to come one night with me?' She said it with a smile and a little toss of her head which Smiler liked. At the same time he knew that the last place he wanted to visit was a Youth Club. People who ran Youth Clubs asked questions and took an interest in you.

‘Can't really,' he said. ‘I work most nights.'

‘Where?'

Smiler did some quick thinking and replied, ‘Oh, a garage down Heytesbury way. On the pumps.'

‘Every night?'

‘Well, most.' To change the subject, he went on quickly, ‘You like it here?'

‘So-so. But I'm thinking of getting another job.'

Smiler, not wishing to be further involved, and giving up the idea of buying a battery from her, said, ‘Well, see you around some time.'

He moved down the crowded length of the shop. The girl at the cosmetics counter had seen him talking to Pat. After work she said to Pat, ‘Who's that chap I saw you talking to? One with a green anorak.'

‘Oh, him. He's just a chap I know.'

‘Dyes his hair, don't he? And uses suntan stuff?'

‘Course not'

‘Does you know. Comes in regular once a fortnight.' The girl giggled. ‘And they say us girls is the vain ones.'

That night, as Mrs Lakey and Miss Milly sipped at their after dinner whisky and marsala, Mrs Lakey said out of the blue, ‘That Boy.'

‘What boy?' asked Miss Milly.

‘Johnny.'

‘What about him?'

‘He's good with animals. Got Captain Black's brute of an Alsatian right under his thumb. Dog would lick his boots if he said so.'

‘Animals are good judges,' said Miss Milly.

‘So would people be if they used their ears and eyes. Anything about him ever worry you, Milly?'

‘No, Jelly. He does his work and he's got a good appetite. Polite, cheerful, and clean – for a lad. Why?'

‘I just wondered, Milly. Just wondered. Did you ever get to see his aunt?'

‘Not yet. I haven't been over that way.'

‘Well, don't bother about it. I met old Judge Renton in Warminster yesterday. He lives Crockerton way. Asked him about the boy and his aunt. Said she was a good, solid body. Spoke well of the boy, too. So don't bother, Milly. You've got enough on your hands already without going parish visiting.'

Mrs Lakey picked up a newspaper and hid behind it.

While Smiler was settling in at Danebury House, Yarra was settling on the plain. By the beginning of April she was very close to her cubbing time and had grown heavy and full in the belly. She could still lope and trot tirelessly. But now, when she hunted a hare or rabbit, she killed her quarry quickly because she did not like to keep at top speed for long.

She found food easy to come by and knew a dozen places where she could always get water to drink. She lived mostly in the tank she had first picked for her sleeping quarters, but if she roamed far she had five other sleeping places, two of them nature-made lairs and three in abandoned tanks and lorries.

At Longleat Park there had been no news of her since they had lost her in the snowstorm. This worried the Cheetah Warden because he felt that she might have had some accident and been killed. She could easily have fallen down an old well or been shot by some farmer or keeper by mistake and then buried to avoid awkwardness over her death. Or she could have been swept away in a river flood. Or she could have caught some disease which had killed her. Her carcase might be quietly rotting in some lonely spinney or gully. But in his own mind the Cheetah Warden did not really believe any of these possibilities. On the other hand he could not understand why she had not been sighted. He had not overlooked the possibility that she might have found her way up on to the plain. As the Army authorities would not give permission for a full-scale drive across it unless there was a definite sighting the Cheetah Warden had asked the Land Wardens who ranged the plain to keep an eye out for Yarra.

So far none of them had sighted her, but two of them had passed quite close to her in the course of the passing weeks. They missed seeing her when she was in the open at a distance because her coating merged into the background in perfect camouflage. Chiefly, however, they missed her because she moved about during the early morning and late evening During the day, if she heard the sound of a car or tank engine, the crackle of firing or the shouting of the soldiers, she went into hiding at once. The nearer her time came, the more cautious she grew.

But this did not mean that Yarra had not been seen. Many of the birds and animals knew her. A carrion crow marked her morning and evening rounds. When she killed he would wait, circling aloft until she had eaten, and then move down for his pickings. The deer knew her and her scent and moved fast the moment it came on the wind to them. One or two lucky hares, who had escaped her, knew her.

The only human who saw Yarra during this period was Smiler. It was on an April day when the fat leaf buds were shedding their wrappings and beginning to green the trees, when the sheltered banks held the pale full glow of primroses, and some of the early blackbirds and thrushes had begun to lay. Smiler lost Lemon Drop on a walk up the coppice-studded valley. He only kept on leads the boarding dogs who were allowed out. Lemon Drop and Fairy and the resident setters were allowed free. Mostly they were obedient to him and came when he called. But Lemon Drop was a wanderer. When Smiler got back to the kennels he missed him. It was four o'clock and both Miss Milly and Mrs Lakey were out. He knew he would be in trouble if they came back and he had to report Lemon Drop missing. He put the other dogs in their kennels and went away in search of him. He knew exactly where he would most likely be. Right at the top of the valley there was a small wood of lofty, smooth-barked beech trees. Lemon Drop had a passion for squirrel hunting there, and the squirrels now were out and about from their semi-hibernation.

Smiler went up the valley path at a steady trot towards the beeches. When he was fifty yards from the trees he heard Lemon Drop barking. He called and went in after him. From the sound of the barking he could tell that he was at the top end of the wood which was bounded with a wire-netting fence to prevent cattle straying through to the plain.

He found Lemon Drop at the foot of a tall beech tree. The tree grew right alongside the fence and some of its branches hung over it. Lemon Drop was looking upwards and barking furiously. He took no notice of Smiler as he approached. He ran round the tree, whining and barking, and then raised himself against the smooth bark of the great bole, looking upwards.

Smiler looked upwards, too, and immediately stood transfixed. Lying along a thick branch that ran outwards from the tree was Yarra. She was looking down at the dog from a height of about fourteen feet. Although Yarra was not unduly disturbed, she now and again gave a threatening hiss and spit and switched her long tail to and fro irritably. The perch on the branch was a favourite resting place of hers when she found herself in this part of the plain. She liked to lie up there, catching the warmth of the westering sun.

For a few moments Smiler saw her clearly, the sunlight catching her orange-and-black-spotted pelt, one foreleg dangling over the bough. Then she scented him, turned her head, and saw him. He was a big human being and she knew better than to stay where she was. She rose and moved quickly outwards along the branch. She jumped from it in a great leap that took her clear over the boundary fence, and went across the grass in a long, fast gallop.

Lemon Drop rushed to the fence, barking and growling. Smiler went after the dog and caught him. He slipped the lead on to his collar and held him. Away in the distance Yarra was soon lost over a rise in the ground.

Smiler walked away, dragging Lemon Drop after him, protesting and whining for a while. Smiler knew all about the plain now and how it was used by the Army. It was a wild place and, he argued with himself, soldiers could well look after themselves. So, why shouldn't Yarra be left to her freedom there? In a way he was glad to have seen her. Locally there were all sorts of rumours about her. That she had been killed, that she'd been seen well south of Salisbury in the New Forest, and that she'd gone back to Longleat and was hanging around in the woods there. Joe Ringer – the dogs' meat man who had become very friendly with Smiler – said that he knew for certain she'd been shot by a farmer, skinned, and her pelt turned into a rug for the front parlour. But Joe always had a different story from anyone else. In fact Joe was full of stories and most of them came from his own imagination.

Smiler decided that the best thing he could do was to forget that he had ever seen Yarra and to keep the dogs away from the plain. If he reported Yarra to Mrs Lakey it would only bring the police and other people around and he would have to tell his story and attract too much attention to himself. Reporters would want to know who he was and where he lived, and might even want to ask questions of his non-existent aunt at Hillside Bungalow! That would put the fat in the fire. No, Samuel M., he told himself – just pretend you never saw her.

When Smiler got back to Danebury House Mrs Lakey and Miss Milly still had not returned, but Joe Ringer was there. His little green van was in the yard and he was off-loading the dogs' meat into the store house.

‘Where've you been then, Johnny? All the dogs back and you not here. I could have pinched the silver from the house and helped myself to a dozen eggs.'

‘Lemon Drop went on the loose,' said Smiler. ‘Had to go and get him.'

‘Itchy feet and a sharp nose he's got. But too big for delicate work like … well, let's leave it at that.' Joe winked.

Smiler knew exactly what he meant, because everyone knew that Joe was a poacher in his spare time. Joe was a small, wiry middle-aged man, with very dark hair and a dark complexion. He had gypsy blood in him. He had worked around Warminster and Heytesbury for fifteen years earning a living trading, knackering and poaching. He lived in a small cottage in a side lane running off the Heytesbury–Warminster road.

The cottage was close to the river. There was an untidy sprawl of tin sheds and huts behind it which were filled with all sorts of junk. Joe lived alone and did for himself. And he lived like a king. One way and another, whether in season or out, Joe fed himself and his friends on the fat of the land – trout, pheasant, partridge, jugged hare, delicious rabbit stews, baked grayling and – come Christmas time – turkey, duck, and stuffed pork. Eating was Joe's joy – though he never put on weight. Also, there was always a large cask of cider just inside his kitchen door. When Joe had taken Smiler to the Southampton football match, he had given Smiler supper afterwards. Smiler had been so full of food and cider going home that he could hardly cycle straight. Smiler liked Joe, and Joe liked Smiler. Sometimes Joe let Smiler drive the old green van up and down the road between Danebury House and Heytesbury.

And
Joe knew perfectly well that Smiler (Johnny to him) didn't have an aunt living at Crockerton. Joe, who was curious about everyone and everything, had made a few careful inquiries. Joe was always on the look-out for bits of useful information, but he had a mystery in his own life, too. He guessed that Smiler had also.

And because Joe liked Smiler – he kept what he knew to himself and asked no questions.

Joe now said, ‘What you doing Sunday next?'