The Girl Who Cried Wolf(43)
I choke on my drink and splutter, ‘Freedom? No way, Izzy! Can you imagine shouting “Freedom” across the park? People will think you’re Braveheart.’
On cue, Freedom trots into the living room and Mother settles him in front of the warm fire. ‘I think Freedom is a perfect name for him.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘Apart from a few little cuts, I think he will be fine. Something tells me he has been much loved before; goodness only knows how he got into that state. Did he have a collar?’
Izzy looks at me guardedly, as I had thrown his collar out of the car window, having no intention of the nasty neighbour ever finding him.
‘No collar, Mother. He was a stray, and must have been for months so our conscience is clear and we can find him a good home.’
My mother smiles lovingly at Freedom and I see that if she has anything to do with it, he already has.
***
If you could have taken an image of Elm Tree last Christmas, and compared it to the one of right now, it would have looked remarkably different. Two days have passed since Freedom’s arrival and along with his muddy paws, my mother’s laughter, and the glorious festive adornments, Elm Tree House is a home full of warmth and happiness.
I look around the kitchen and consider that it felt more like Grandma’s than the bleached and pristine space I was used to. Lillian was so busy fussing over Freedom that she had not been troubled to clear away the toast crumbs, the cutlery, and little jars of honey from breakfast.
I eye the clock nervously, seeing it is almost half past ten and if Father arrives home on time at lunch, he will not only have a heart attack at seeing the new arrival but will be terribly vexed at Mother’s abandoned domestic duties.
Feeling very sorry for myself, I begin the arduous task of washing dishes, not at all fair considering I am supposed to be recuperating and had planned to be as bone idle as possible for the foreseeable future. Still, Michael was heading back from the meadow so it would be good for him to see me as a domestic goddess. It may remind him I should make a charming wife.
I smile happily at him, then feel a pull in my heart as he tells me Pinto is in the horsebox and they are ready to go. He sees my face and says, ‘I will see you in a couple of hours, Anna. It would be nice if you got to see your father, then Eddie is driving you to mine, I have given him directions … and considerable gas money!’
I rest my head on his shoulders and he hugs me tightly. ‘Don’t worry about Freedom. If Malcolm goes crazy just bring him to mine with you. Everything will be fine, darling.’
I look up into his face and tell him I love him, then morosely wave goodbye as they pull out on to the lane.
As I walk back into the house I take in the dishevelled rooms and paw prints on the wooden floor. I love this new Elm Tree but I know my father will hate it and prefer what I used to call ‘The Mausoleum.’ I anxiously go to find my mother to see if we cannot tidy up a little, and find her stretched out on the chaise lounge, Freedom draped over her lap.
My eyes widen in horror as I see she is feeding him something from thin crackers, ‘Mother, please tell me that is not Father’s foie gras?’
She shrugs her shoulders and kisses the top of his golden head. ‘Freedom needs fattening up. Your father is quite fat enough.’ She laughs like a child as the dog licks her fingers and I worry the world has gone mad.
‘Will everyone stop calling him bloody Freedom!’ I shout, not meaning to make them both jump. I feel I need to be angry, as I always do when something is out of my control. I look over to the drive and see Eddie pull up, Jules in the front seat beside him. No doubt she wants to see where Michael lives. ‘I’m going now so you’ll have to see to this mess. I don’t envy you having to deal with Father’s reaction.’
I leave my mother looking a little lost and she hugs her new friend more tightly.
I grab my bag from the hallway, eager to leave and follow Michael to Northampton. Eddie had offered to drop me off en-route to his parent’s house.
‘Damn,’ he says, starting the engine. ‘No petrol. I’ll nip down to village and get some, see you in five.’
‘I’ll just come with you,’ I tell him, annoyed at the delay and wondering why he has no petrol when Michael gave him money.
‘No, you won’t. I need you to grab me a SatNav. Didn’t you say your old man had one?’ By the time you’ve done that I’ll be back.’
He says the last part like the Terminator to make me laugh, but I am huffing and puffing, and stomp angrily back to the house.
As I run up the landing I look out of the window and see my mother and Freedom in the meadow. She is throwing him a ball and cheering when he brings it back to her. I cannot help but feel guilty for shouting at her, and think maybe I should apologise before I leave. I’ve never seen her look so happy; her blonde hair is no longer tied back, and falls prettily around her shoulders as she runs through the long grass. I continue across the landing to my parent’s bedroom and become cross once more as it takes me at least ten minutes to find what I am looking for.
I am just about to descend the staircase when I halt suddenly at the top railing. My father is home and yelling at Lillian. I suddenly realise they think they are alone in the house, Izzy is out with her friends and Mother will assume I have already left with Jules. Uncertainly, I take a few steps, then stand back in the shadows as his anger heightens. I peek over the bannister and see my mother protectively holding Freedom’s collar, who is not exactly growling at my father but his eyes are wide and his lip is curled back.