As she suspected would be the case, Dogs One, Two, and Three were delighted to see her, and they expressed their enthusiasm with a series of leaps and yelps as they dashed about the back garden seeking something with which they might present her: a plastic garden troll from One, a half-masticated rawhide bone from Two, the tooth-marked handle of a trowel from Three. Bea accepted these offerings with suitable oohs and ahhs, unearthed the dogs’ leads from within a pile of boots, gloves, anoraks, and pullovers on a stool just inside the kitchen door, and hooked up the Labradors without further ado. Rather than take them on walkies, however, she led them to the Land Rover. She said, “In you go,” as she opened the rear of it and when they cooperatively leapt inside, she knew they thought it was?oh frabjous day!?countryside time.
Unfortunately, they were mistaken. It was Raytime. If he wanted Pete, Bea reckoned, Ray should also be willing to take on Pete’s animals. True, they were equally her dogs?they were, actually, even more her dogs than they were Pete’s dogs?but her hours on this case were going to be long, as Ray himself had pointed out, and the dogs needed watching over as much as did Pete. She grabbed the animals’ enormous bag of food along with their dishes and other items guaranteed to lead to doggie pleasure, and off they went, with dog tails wagging and dog noses pressed messily to the windows.
When she arrived at Ray’s house, Bea had two intentions. The first was to deliver One, Two, and Three into the back garden, where Ray’s limited time, lack of skill, and general indifference had never produced anything more than a square of cement for a patio and a rectangle of lawn for visual relief. There were no herbaceous borders for the dogs to rip into and nothing else for them to chew up. It was perfect for housing three rambunctious black Labs, and she’d brought fresh rawhide bones, a bag of toys, and an old soccer ball to make sure the hours spent here did not result in canine boredom. This left her free to pursue her second intention, which was to get inside Ray’s house. She had to deliver the dog food and the dishes, and since she would be inside, she would just make certain Ray was caring for Pete properly. Ray was a man, after all, and what did a man know about nurturing a fourteen-year-old boy? Nothing, yes? Only a mother knew what was best for her son.
All of this was part of the general excuse, but Bea didn’t allow her thoughts to travel there. She told herself she was acting in Pete’s best interests, and since she had a key to Ray’s house?as he had a key to hers?it was a small matter to insert it in the lock once she had the dogs happily snuffling the lawn in the garden. She could see what she needed to see without anyone being the wiser, she told herself. Ray was at work; Pete was at school. She’d leave the food, the dishes, and a note about the dogs, and she’d be gone after a quick peek at the fridge and through the rubbish to make sure there were no takeaway pizza boxes or Chinese or curry containers among the other debris. And while she was there, she’d have a quick look through Ray’s videos to make certain he had nothing questionable that Pete might get into, and if evidence of what she knew was Ray’s predilection for curvy blond females under thirty was anywhere about, she’d get rid of that as well.
She’d got only a step inside the door when it became clear that her plan was not going to be carried out without some fancy footwork, however. For someone came clattering down the stairs?undoubtedly alerted by the happy barking of dogs in the garden?and in a moment she was face-to-face with her son.
He said, “Mum! What’re you doing here? Those the Labs?” with an inclination of his head in the general direction of the garden.
Bea saw he was eating, which would have been a mark against his father had Pete’s snack consisted of crisps or chips. But he was munching from a plastic bag of apple slices and almonds, of all things, and the bloody child appeared to be actually enjoying them. So she couldn’t get riled at that, but she could get riled at the fact that he was home at all.
She said, “Never mind about me. What’re you doing here? Did your father allow you to stay home from school? Or have you done a bunk? What’s going on? Are you alone? Who’s upstairs? What the hell are you doing?” Bea knew the game: It started with truancy and went on to drugs. Drugs led to breaking and entering. That led to gaol. Thank you so very much, Ray Hannaford. Wonderful job. Father of the year.
Pete took a step backward. He chewed thoughtfully and watched her.
She said, “Answer me at once. Why aren’t you at school?”
“Half day,” he said.