James Herbert - Fluke

‘You just be patient,’ she reprimanded. ‘You’ll do yourself an injury with these.’

Gingerly she picked up the sausage I’d already bitten into and blew on it — long, strong puffs that defied the sizzling heat to resist it. When she was satisfied she popped the sausage into my upturned mouth. In two quick swallows it was gone and I was pleading for more. She went through the ritual again, ignoring my impatient entreaties. I appreciated the second even more, the savoury meat filling my mouth with its juices, and, I can honestly say, never had I enjoyed a meal so much in my life — lives — either as a dog or as a man.

When I had gulped down the third, the old lady turned her attention back to the frying-pan and stabbed out four more sausages with a fork, placing two each on a slice of thick bread lying on the table. She smeared them with mustard and covered them with another slice, almost tenderly, as if putting a couple of children to bed. Without bothering to cut it she opened her jaws and stuffed as much of the sausage sandwich into her mouth as possible. Her teeth clamped down and when she withdrew her hand, a huge semicircular hole had been left in the bread. I watched enviously and tried to jump up on to her lap, the sight of those huge munching jaws sending me into a frenzy of pleading. I was starving! Didn’t she have any pity?

She laughed and ruffled my head, holding me at bay, keeping the sandwich well away from my snapping teeth. I was in luck, for a lump of sausage fell from the bread and I was on it in an instant. I licked my lips with pleasure as I looked up for more.

‘All right, you villain. I suppose it’ll do you more good than me.’ Bella smiled, and with that she dropped the rest of the sandwich on to the plate on the floor.

So we feasted, me and the fat lady, happy in each other’s company, both of us demolishing our piece of sausage sandwich in seconds, grinning and smacking our lips at each other when we’d done.

I was still hungry, but at least the edge had been taken off my appetite. I lapped up the water Bella gave me in a soup-bowl and licked the traces of food from her hands. I asked for more but she didn’t understand. She hoisted herself to her feet and began to unpack her shopping-bag while I kept a wary eye out for any scraps that might fall to the floor. It was risky dodging between those two wonderfully stout legs, and no food fell my way, anyway, but I enjoyed the game.

Bella dropped my spotless plate into the sink and called to me to follow her. I padded after her into her front-room and scrambled up on to the musty old settee as she sank into it with a groan. I jumped up at her chest, two paws placed between two massive breasts, and licked her face in gratitude. It was a pleasing face to lick. She stroked my head and back for a little while and the strokes became slower and heavier as her breathing became slower and heavier.

It was not long after Bella had lifted those great tree-trunks on to the settee and rested her head on a cushioned arm that she was fast asleep, her snoring strangely comforting to me. I curled up my own weary body between her mountainous tummy and the back of the settee and soon I was deep in slumber too.

My awakening was fairly alarming. I heard a key in the lock and was instantly alert. I tried to stand, but my legs were wedged firmly inside the crevice between the old lady and the settee. I lifted my head and began to bark as loud as I could. This startled Bella into wakefulness and she looked around for a few moments as though she didn’t know where she was.

‘The door, Bella.’ I told her. ‘There’s someone coming in!’

She didn’t understand, of course, and gruffly told me to hush my barking. I was too young though, too easily excited, and my barks only got louder and more challenging.

A man staggered in and fumes of alcohol assailed me. I had been into pubs a few times with my previous master and had always found the smell of alcohol unpleasant but not disturbing. However, this had the smell of sickness.

‘What the bloody ‘ell’s that?’

The man lurched towards us. He was fairly young, about thirty, thirty-five, prematurely balding, his face vaguely containing the same features as Bella’s. His clothes were untidy but not dishevelled; he wore no shirt, just a loose-fitting sweater under his jacket. Just as Bella was broad and expansive, he was small and mean. A giant, to me, of course, but a small, mean giant.

‘Haven’t you been in to work again?’ Bella asked, still drawing her sleepy wits together.

He ignored the question and made a grab for me, a horrible sneer distorting his lips. I growled and snapped at his hand; I didn’t like him at all.

‘Leave the dog alone!’ Bella pushed his hand away and heaved her legs on to the floor, causing me to fall back into the space she’d just vacated.

‘Dog? Call that a dog?’ He cuffed my head with malicious playfulness. I warned him not to do it again. ‘Where’d he come from? You know you’re not allowed dogs in the flats.’

‘Leave him be. I found him outside — starving, he was, poor little thing.’

Bella rose, towering above me and dwarfing the weasel I supposed was her son. ‘You stink,’ she told him, standing between us to stop his teasing. ‘What about your job? You can’t keep taking time off like this.’

The weasel cursed his job then his mother. ‘Where’s me dinner?’ he asked.

‘The dog’s had it.’

I groaned inwardly. That should endear me to him.

‘He bloody better not have!’

‘I didn’t know you’d be home, did I? I thought you’d gone off to work.’

‘Well, I haven’t, so find me something.’

I think she should have picked him up by the scruff of the neck and stuck his head in a bucket of water — she was big enough to do so — but instead she marched off into the kitchen, and soon the sounds of cupboard doors opening and closing reached our ears.

He leered down at me and I glared nervously back at him.

‘Off!’ he commanded, jerking his thumb away from the settee.

‘Get lost,’ I replied with more coolness than I actually felt.

‘I said off!’ He lunged and swept me from my comfortable perch with a strength that petrified me. I still had to learn I was only a dog, and a pretty feeble one at that. I yelped in dismay and scooted off into the kitchen, seeking protection from Bella.

‘All right, boy, all right. Take no notice of him. Let’s give him his dinner and he’ll soon be off to sleep, don’t you worry.’ She busied herself preparing the weasel’s meal while I kept as close to her as possible. The food odours began to arouse my palate again and suddenly I was just as hungry as before. I rested my paws against her broad flank and begged to be fed again.

‘No, no. You get down now!’ Her hand was more firm than before. ‘You’ve had your dinner, it’s his turn now.’

Still I persisted, but Bella ignored my whines. She began to talk to me, maybe to soothe me, or perhaps she was really talking to herself.

‘Takes after his father. Never no good, but what do you do? They’re flesh and blood. He could’ve been something, that boy, but he’s wasted himself. Just like the old man, God rest him, same blood in ‘em. I’ve done me best, God knows I’ve done me best. Kept him — kept ‘em both — when they were out of work. They’ve made me old, they have, between ‘em.’

The smell of cooking was making me delirious.

‘He’s had some nice girls too. Can’t keep ‘em, though. Run a mile when they find out what he’s like. He’ll never change. Arnold, it’s nearly ready! Don’t you go asleep!’

Bacon, eggs, more sausages. Oh God!

She began to butter bread at the kitchen table while I stayed rooted beneath the cooker, oblivious to the hot fat that spluttered and occasionally spat over. Bella brushed me out of the way with a leg and emptied the contents of the pan on to a plate. She put the plate on the table then clattered about for a knife and fork.