There Is No Dog Page 13

  Bob broke away. He swept one hand roughly over his eyes, brushing away the tears. His expression hardened. ‘I’ll make it work,’ he said. ‘Mr B will help me.’

  Mona hesitated. ‘Did it ever occur to you that your Mr B might not always be around to help you?’

  He looked at her as if she were mad. ‘No, of course it never occurred to me. Of course he’ll always be here. It’s his job.’

  She wanted to tell him that it was time to take control of his own life and his own planet because quite soon there would be no one else to do it for him. But she lacked the appetite for confrontation and, in any case, what the hell. It would all turn out fine no matter what. Lucy or no Lucy … who would even remember in a hundred years?

  ‘Perhaps you’re right after all, darling. You and Lucy, together forever.’ Mona threw her hands up as if tossing caution, quite literally, to the wind. ‘Live the dream! Go for it!’ And she laughed her best devil-may-care laugh.

  But Bob had lost interest – he was gazing, fascinated, at the brightly graffitied wall of an old brick warehouse as the felucca drifted slowly past. On it was written:

  37

  A safari park on the outskirts of town had been calling all week looking for places for a couple of young lions, twenty-two gazelle and an entire herd of zebras.

  Luke rolled his eyes. ‘What’d you tell them?’

  ‘I told the guy to stuff them in a taxi and send them over.’ Mica made a gun with one hand and pointed it at his right temple.

  ‘OK, thanks. Any other crises?’

  ‘Other than the obvious, no, but you’d better give him a ring. I turned him down in every language I could think of and he didn’t seem to be taking it in.’

  Luke nodded and took the Post-it note with the number scrawled on it. He felt sorry for the safari park, but another week of meteorological freakery and he’d be in exactly the same position.

  ‘What’re you doing here so early, anyway?’ He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t much past 6 a.m., only just light outside and drizzling.

  ‘You said you’d sack me if I didn’t start keeping the same hours as you.’

  Luke nodded absently. He’d been working sixteen-hour days for God knew how long, trying to make up for the shortage of staff and the excess of problems. ‘Thanks for coming in. I appreciate it.’

  ‘You bloody well should. I hate mornings. Getting in at nine was bad enough.’

  ‘You’ll go to heaven, Mica.’

  Mica put a hand on Luke’s arm and batted his eyes. ‘Only if you take me.’

  But Luke wasn’t listening. He’d come into work on Saturday in a state of elation. Sun, everywhere. It was straight out of some demented cola advert. Not boiling hot, not freezing cold, no hail or sleet or snow. Just a perfect beautiful breezy sunny day. Even the reptiles in their dim homes must have felt something in the change of barometric pressure – snakes and lizards he hadn’t seen for days, weeks, had emerged to sit on branches and blink.

  This is too good to last, he’d thought. And it hadn’t.

  Now he saw Lucy on the other side of the courtyard, hauling a flat trolley loaded with four bales of straw through the greyish drizzle. Something about her (was it the hunch of her shoulders?) appeared less buoyant than usual. Perhaps it was going badly with the strange boyfriend. Without an ounce of guilt, Luke hoped so. Not that he was interested in her, but he wouldn’t have liked any of his staff hanging around with that guy.

  What was it about women, he wondered, that they fancied such obvious losers? What could Lucy possibly see in Bob, besides the good looks of a serial womanizer? The vibes he gave off chilled Luke’s blood, and he didn’t like the thought of them together. OK, so Lucy had never been his favourite employee, but it was impossible to miss the fact that she’d been utterly steadfast throughout the crisis, not once claiming an inability to get to work. Perhaps he’d underestimated her.

  He trotted through the gloom and took the handle of her trolley. She forced a smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, attempting to take the load back from him. ‘It’s not that heavy.’

  But he held fast and they walked in silence through the rain. ‘I’d have killed to get anyone in at this hour a few weeks ago,’ he said at last. ‘Maybe the weather’s not such a bad thing after all.’

  ‘Oh,’ she sighed. ‘Don’t even joke about it. I felt so happy on Saturday when I thought it might actually be over.’ When I had sex with Bob. Amazing sex. Or was it love? Amazing love? Either way, he hadn’t called. Why hadn’t he called? Even without a phone, he should have goddamned called. He said he’d find me.

  Together they heaved and shoved the bales into the storage bin.

  ‘Thanks.’ Lucy looked uncomfortable. ‘But I’m perfectly fine doing it myself.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Luke stood for a minute, considering the check-list in his head. Food deliveries had been sporadic this week; they’d have to start thinking about emergency rations. The pigs seemed listless and the heating in the camel’s enclosure was on the blink. He’d managed to borrow a horse rug to keep the animal warm, but hadn’t counted on the difficulties of getting the camel to stand still while they fastened it. The usually placid beast kicked and shrieked whenever they approached, shivering with cold and fear till Luke was ready to wring his s-bend neck.

  He looked up and found Lucy staring at him with a slightly puzzled expression. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said. ‘I’m just having a quiet panic about getting through the week.’

  She shrugged. ‘We’ll help.’

  ‘Yes.’ He turned to go, but on second thoughts turned back. ‘Thanks,’ he said, as if he meant it this time. ‘I know you will.’

  38

  ‘Darling …’

  Bob groaned.

  Mr B looked up from his work. ‘Hello, Mona. You’re looking charming, as ever.’ She was dressed in what appeared to be a few strands of seaweed.

  ‘Do you like it? Straight off the catwalk.’ She spun round.

  Bob mimed two fingers down his throat accompanied by hairball gagging, and turned away.

  ‘Gorgeous, Mona.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Bob’s face wore an expression of outraged incredulity. ‘When you two fossils have finished exchanging pleasantries, do you think you might pay attention to me and my plight?’

  Mona turned to him, her face a picture of maternal sympathy. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘Remind me again what your plight is?’

  Bob rolled his eyes. ‘Hello? Lucy? My one and only transcendent true love? Am I so completely insignificant that you can’t even recall our last conversation?’

  ‘It’s not that at all, not one bit, dear one. It’s just that I thought we’d resolved that particular question …’

  ‘The question of my heart? Of the only possibility for happiness I’ll ever have?’

  Mona coughed a little. ‘Darling boy. You know I worry about your happiness. Which is why I’m afraid I’m going to have to forbid you to see Lucy ever again.’

  Bob stared at her, aghast.

  ‘Yes, forbid you. No more mortals.’ She reached over and patted his arm, shooting a furtive glance at Mr B, who looked away. ‘Mother knows best.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd,’ he choked. ‘You can’t stop me.’

  ‘Well, I can, obviously.’ Mona smiled modestly.

  Bob’s eyes swivelled wildly. ‘You would actually sabotage my relationship?’

  ‘Sabotage?’ Mona appealed to Mr B. ‘Have you ever known me to indulge in sabotage?’

  The older man shrugged. He had certainly known her to indulge in chaos and pandemonium. Not to mention carelessness and drunk and disorderly conduct. But sabotage? Not that he could remember offhand. ‘Though a bit of sabotage,’ he mused aloud, ‘might be just the ticket at the mo–’

  The noise that emerged from Bob’s mouth shattered every window in the room.

  Bob tore at his hair a
nd rent the hem of his garment. He was God, the Almighty, the All-powerful Everlasting Father, King of Kings and Lord of Lords. With the Mother of all Mothers.

  Mona waved and disappeared, throwing a kiss that appeared to encompass them both while Bob stormed off to his room.

  Mr B did not pursue him. I give up, he thought. No matter which way this heap of shit slides, it is still a heap of shit.

  His head throbbed and he could not see a way through. Fine, he thought. Let Bob’s relationship with Lucy explode however they (or Mona) willed it. He was tired of chasing them all over the planet. In a very few days now, Bob would have to make his own decisions. He might as well get used to it now.

  Mr B sighed. If he were honest, he’d have to admit that his own role in this bizarre tragicomedy seemed to have shrunk, leaving him more of a bystander than ever. Perhaps this was in preparation for his departure. Once he heard about his transfer, every single one of them could go to hell for all he cared.

  But even as the thought came to him he knew it to be untrue.

  If I didn’t care, he thought, my head would not hurt. If I didn’t care, my eyes would not ache and my gut would not churn and none of this idiocy would bother me. Indifference is the key, he mused, but I seem to have no talent for it. I care about Earth and all of Bob’s tragic creations. I care about Estelle, and I care about Eck, he thought, though I cannot allow myself to think of him, for there is nothing I can do to reverse his fate. I care about Mona, despite a clear understanding of her faults.

  And then a funny thought occurred to him, so funny that he began to laugh. And once he began laughing he could barely contain himself. How pathetic I am, he thought. I even care about Bob.

  When next he looked up, Eck’s friend was staring at him.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  He pushed his spectacles back with one finger and smiled at her. ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.’

  She held out her hand. ‘I’m Estelle. My father won Eck in a poker game and is planning to eat him.’

  Well, thought Mr B. She certainly gets straight to the point. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is a very sad state of affairs.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Have you spoken to your father?’ Surely she, of all people, could change his mind.

  Estelle nodded, and he thought he saw something dark flicker behind her eyes. Power flowed round her like a shield. He was interested to note that, despite her mild appearance, she was Hed’s daughter.

  ‘There’s no progress to be made there,’ she said carefully. ‘But there may be another way. Only …’ Her level gaze met his. ‘I need help.’

  Who doesn’t, Mr B thought. ‘I’m at your service,’ said he. ‘But … I feel I should tell you I don’t expect to be here much longer.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It’s not exactly common knowledge … and of course it mustn’t be.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve resigned.’ There, he thought. I’ve said it.

  Estelle’s eyes widened. He was interested to note that she was not, in fact, entirely unflappable.

  ‘How soon will you go?’

  Mr B shrugged. ‘Very soon indeed. A matter of days.’

  The colour rose in her pale cheeks. ‘You’re going to leave Earth to Bob?’ Her distress nearly prevented her from speaking. ‘What will become of it? He cares about nothing but himself.’

  ‘And Lucy. The assistant zoo-keeper.’

  ‘No,’ said Estelle. ‘That doesn’t count. She’s human.’

  Was she right about that? Mr B removed his spectacles. ‘I couldn’t be more sympathetic to your concerns, but you must try to see it from my perspective. I’ve spent more millennia with Bob than I wish to contemplate, many thousands of years attempting to stem the gush of misery on this planet. And every minute of every day represents nothing to me but more failure.’ He shook his head. ‘I can no longer endure it. I cannot continue to assist him in this particular endeavour.’

  Estelle looked at him, really looked, and saw everything she needed to see. Then she turned away and began to think. And, being an excellent thinker, she began to see a bigger picture, one informed by her travels and experience. One in which a whole raft of problems might slot together to form an elegant conclusion.

  She looked back at Mr B, whom she found to be a most sympathetic individual. ‘And Eck?’ she said. ‘He hasn’t much time left either.’

  He nodded. ‘I will do what I can to help.’

  39

  ‘I want you to get rid of her.’ Bob is back.

  Which her, Mr B wonders. Not Lucy, surely?

  ‘My mother. She’s driving me insane. Get rid of her.’

  Mr B is consumed with an irresistible urge to laugh. ‘Get rid of your mother? How do you propose I do that?’

  Bob does not answer. He stuffs an entire croissant into his mouth, hoping that his inability to speak will deflect attention from the fact that he has no intention of doing so.

  Mr B shrugs. ‘I couldn’t get rid of her if I tried. She’s indestructible. A universal force.’

  The boy’s face clouds over with annoyance. ‘Well, then, force her to go away and stop ruining my life.’

  ‘No can do, buddy boy. Your mother’s your own problem. I’m as powerless in the matter as you are.’

  Bob flushes with rage. ‘But she listens to you,’ he shouts. ‘She likes you!’

  ‘You’re her son. She likes you more,’ says he, sipping his coffee, unsure if the statement he has just made is true. ‘Why don’t you reason with her?’

  ‘Hello? Have you met my mother? She’s immune to reason. She’s made up her mind about Lucy, and who knows what she’s plotting.’

  ‘She is, of course, perfectly correct about Lucy.’

  Bob’s eyes roll back. For a moment, it looks as if his head might explode.

  Mr B thinks. ‘I could talk to her,’ he says at last. ‘But I should like something in return.’

  ‘In return?’ The boy looks genuinely nonplussed. ‘Why should I do anything for you in return?’

  ‘Because …’ Mr B finishes his coffee and replaces the cup gently in the saucer. ‘Because, if you don’t, there’s no deal.’

  Bob’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘What? What are you talking about? Of course there is. There’s always a deal.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says everyone. It’s obvious. You have to. I’m the boss, you’re not. You do what I say. End of story.’

  ‘Ah. Now, you see, that is where you’re wrong, technically speaking. In point of fact, my compliance is key to the execution of your desires.’

  Bob chokes. ‘Do you mean to say that if you don’t want to do what I say you don’t have to?’

  Mr B nods.

  ‘Since when?’

  A shrug. ‘Since always.’

  Bob staggers to his feet, appalled, then sits down again with a crash. ‘Why have you never mentioned this?’

  ‘Why bother? My job is to comply with your wishes, so that’s what I’ve done. But nothing actually forces me to do so.’ Mr B pauses. ‘It’s what you might call a loophole.’

  ‘A loophole?’ Bob nearly screams the words. ‘Are you insane? If anyone’s going to create a loophole around here, it’s me. And this is not one!’ He collapses in his chair.

  ‘Indeed.’ The older man sips his coffee.

  Their eyes meet, and a current of something deeply unpleasant passes between them.

  Bob has stopped chewing and looks as if he might cry. ‘You don’t care about me at all. No one cares about me except Lucy. Not even my own mother. Not even you.’

  Lucy doesn’t care about you, Mr B thinks. Not the real you, at any rate. She has no idea who – or what – you are. But I do. He looks away, and when he turns back, his expression is mild. ‘Of course I care for you. Just as you care for me.’

  Bob stuffs another piece of croissant into h
is mouth.

  ‘So I suppose you’ll be sorting out your most recent problems on your own, then.’ Mr B dabs at his mouth with a large white linen napkin.

  Bob stops chewing. ‘Why not?’ he says, gathering together what remains of his shredded dignity. ‘I am God, after all. And I don’t need you.’

  ‘Good for you, that’s the spirit.’ Mr B rinses his cup in the kitchen, and returns, humming, to his desk.

  40

  A tap on the window of his bedroom wakes him from a deep and satisfying sleep, in which he is dreaming of doe-eyed virgins with budding breasts and silky skin ministering unto him with a variety of filthy acts. At the foot of the bed, the Eck tosses and turns uneasily.

  Bob resents being awakened more than he can express.

  ‘Go away,’ he mutters, flinging the other arm out wildly, hoping to land a blow on whatever intruder dares to bother him. But the arm connects only with air, and the rapping continues, becomes louder, in fact, until he is forced to open his eyes and sit up and demand that whoever is making that awful racket should stop instantly or face the wrath of –

  There is a splintering crash.

  ‘Hello.’ Estelle has stepped through the broken window and now stands at the foot of his bed. She looks larger than he remembers.

  Bob gapes.

  ‘I’m sorry to burst in on you this way, but I’ve come to take your Eck.’ Her voice, despite being quite soft, hurts his ears.

  With a little cry of joy, Eck scrambles towards her. Bob reaches out and grabs him by one ear. He yowls.

  ‘Not so fast.’ Bob maintains his grasp on Eck’s ear. ‘You can’t just come here and take away my pet. He’s got a reprieve, remember. Tell your father he’ll have to wait for his dinner.’

  Eck shrinks in terror.

  Estelle becomes very still. ‘Your pet will be gone for good in a matter of days if you continue to ignore his predicament.’

  ‘I don’t ignore him.’ Bob is outraged. ‘Just tonight I made him bring me some food, didn’t I, Eck?’