‘He doesn’t now, please, he’ll bite you! Stop it!’ begged Claire just as the dog sprung at the girl, his teeth meeting together inches away from her knee.
Lorna froze. Benji coiled himself up for another attack. Marianne dropped her cigarette on the floor and swiped ineffectually at the dog with a tea towel. Claire limped forward slowly, slowly, so as not to alarm Benji, and inched Lorna away, and then reached down and caught hold of the dog’s collar. The animal, relieved, apologetic, whined and cowered. He licked her hand gratefully. Lorna began to cry. Claire inspected her knee, but there was no mark; she was scared, that’s all.
‘You’re all right, he didn’t bite you.’
Tears pooled under her angry eyes. ‘He tried to though!’
‘Darling, you were tormenting him. Dogs don’t like being hit.’
‘I was playing,’ Lorna shouted.
‘L— Lauren, you hurt him, you frightened him. He’s just an animal, he doesn’t understand. You hit him.’
‘I didn’t. I did not!’
‘I saw you. You might not have meant to—’
‘I was only joking with him.’
‘I know, but he didn’t know that. He thought you were being mean. But, listen, you’re all right. He didn’t bite you. And look, he’s really sorry. Look at him.’ Claire pointed at the eager, sad dog, staring beseechingly at them.
‘I hate him now,’ said Lauren flatly.
And Claire thought fleetingly of the dogs in Lorna’s home. The dogs that were dead now. Along with her mother, her brother.
‘No you don’t, you’ll be friends with him again in no time.’ Claire tried to keep her voice reasonable.
‘I won’t. I hate him.’ And then her set face collapsed into wails and she buried her head on Claire’s shoulder. ‘He was my friend and then he bit me. For no reason!’
‘He’s a very naughty boy.’ Marianne’s voice was shaky. ‘I won’t bring him round any more.’
‘I don’t really hate him,’ Lauren snuffled. ‘I don’t really. I love him, but he doesn’t love me!’
‘He does! He does, honestly! Benji, Benji, say sorry! Look, he’s trying to give you a big lick to say sorry.’ Marianne pulled the dog from Claire and dragged him over to Lorna by the collar. He choked and resisted, claws dragging against the linoleum. Marianne held the dog’s jaws and moved its lips. ‘“I’m sorry Lola! I’m just a big silly puppy with no brain! Please be my friend Lola-Lee!”’
Lauren giggled, snuffled. ‘He can’t really talk.’
‘“I can so!”’ The dog twisted its head but Marianne’s grip was too tight. ‘“All dogs can speak, to the right people. When they want to. Please forgive me Lola-Lee!”’
Lorna giggled again and wiped her eyes. Smears of blue cut through the brown and white. ‘I forgive you Benji. But I do want to dance with you.’
‘Oh, that’s not a good idea, Lauren. Let Benji calm down. Dogs don’t dance, they don’t like it. He’s not a toy,’ said Claire.
‘Oh he’d LOVE to dance! Wouldn’t you Benji!’ And Marianne was up out of her chair, putting the CD on again. ‘Just let me go to the car and get his muzzle. Just in case.’
Lauren clapped and leaped down from the kitchen counter, straightening her robe and picking up the tinsel again.
‘How’s my make-up? Did you like my dancing?’ She swayed in front of Claire.
‘I did, darling. But I think it’s a good idea to calm down now.’
‘I’m hungry. You were asleep for ages. It was like you were dead.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’ The adrenaline was beginning to fade and the pills were taking over again.
‘And I didn’t want to eat without you. I made a feast, to help you get better!’ Lorna twirled around and around.
‘I saw that. Lovely. But you need to calm down now. Calm down, and we’ll have some food, OK?’
‘Here comes Benji!’
‘All right, all right, nice and calm now, darling.’ Claire was struggling to keep her eyes open.
‘Are you ready to dance? Benji?’ Lorna shouted as Marianne led the beast in. He made slow, unwilling progress to the girl. A too-tight muzzle covered his snout and held his jaws together. Lorna laughed and draped tinsel over his ears. He twitched, trying to shake it off but couldn’t. Marianne put on the music, picked up his front paws and placed them in Lorna’s outstretched hands, and they made a clumsy, drunken waltz around the kitchen. The dog’s bowed back legs wobbled. His tail curved under his shaking buttocks. His eyes rolled tragically. At the end of the song Lorna kissed his muzzle.
‘Now we’re best friends again!’
Benji backed under the table and curled up, his bright, wary eyes showing over his quivering flank. Claire gazed at him in mute apology.
26
It turned out that Lorna didn’t like ginger beer after all. She slyly opened a can of Coke. ‘Auntie May bought it me. When you were asleep and we had to do the food shopping.’
Claire picked at a cinnamon roll while Marianne went into raptures over the gingerbread, a bit of blue icing smeared on her chin.
‘You have a real little chef here, Claire!’
By the afternoon, Claire was flagging. Her ankle throbbed, and she took more pills, retiring to the sofa while Lorna and Marianne clumsily tidied the kitchen. They sang together. Benji, still muzzled, crept into the living room and lay beside Claire, and it crossed her mind that now was her chance to watch the news, while the others were noisily occupied, but it seemed suddenly so much effort, so much useless effort. She was trapped here, after all. If the police were looking for her and Lorna, there was nothing she could do about it. She slipped into a blank, death-like sleep. It was dark when Lorna woke her up.
‘Tell her not to go!’ the girl wailed.
‘Lola, please. I’m sure your mummy wants you to herself.’ Marianne lingered in the kitchen doorway, holding her zipped bag.
‘What time is it?’ Claire asked, dazed.
‘It’s not late! Auntie May says it’s late, but it isn’t, it’s only eight. And she doesn’t have to go home yet, does she?’ The girl bounced on the sofa, jarring Claire’s ankle. ‘Does she?’