Today I could see Sandro lying on his side on the trampoline, playing with something. He sat up as their Rhodesian Ridgeback wandered out from the French windows at the back of the house. Such a majestic creature. Massimo told me they were bred to hunt lions in Africa, which made me wonder whether poor old Lupo felt a bit short-changed at finding himself confined to a suburban garden in Sussex.
There was something about the way Sandro moved that caught my eye. He was crawling tentatively across the trampoline, as though he was avoiding sniper fire. Then he suddenly jumped down and hared across the garden, clambering up the rope ladder to the treehouse with panicky gestures, missing his footing and dangling precariously. I realised why when Lupo raced after him, his deep bark reverberating around the neighbourhood. Sandro shrank back into the top of the treehouse, while Lupo launched himself onto his back legs, front paws scrabbling at the ladder.
I threw open the window and yelled as loud as I could. ‘Lupo! Lupo!’ But the dog was fixated on getting up that ladder as though an injured gazelle lay just within chomping distance. I could hear Sandro screaming. Where the hell was Lara? I scuttled down the attic steps as fast as I could without becoming a casualty myself. I’d have to worry about the embarrassment of admitting to spying on them later. I flew out of the house and ran round to Lara’s, hammering on the front door. Then hammered some more when no one arrived.
Eventually she came to the door with a feather duster in her hand. If I hadn’t been in such a panic, I might have made some off-colour joke.
‘Maggie?’ She didn’t stand aside or beckon me in, looking at me as though unexpected visitors were somehow confusing.
‘Lupo’s got Sandro trapped in the treehouse. He’s really frightened. I don’t think the dog can get up there but he’s definitely not acting friendly.’
‘Oh my god! I was hoovering upstairs, I didn’t hear him. I locked the dog in the utility room. He must have jumped over the stable door.’
She charged down the hallway and out through the French windows in the kitchen. I followed her, even though she still hadn’t invited me in. We belted down the garden to where the dog was dancing on its hind legs in frustration. Sandro was pinned to the back of the treehouse, crying.
Lara rushed over to grab the dog, but it snarled at her and she jumped back. My heart was thumping, wondering whether we were about to be prairie prey. Lara was shouting at Lupo but I could hear the fear reducing her voice to a thread. I reminded myself that the Parkers weren’t scared of anything, let alone some ginger hound on the wrong continent.
I dashed back into the house, braced against the sudden screeching of four paws behind me, trying not to imagine exactly what percentage of a buttock Lupo could fit in his mouth if he decided to attack. I ran to the fridge, grabbed the first thing I saw, which was a chicken breast wrapped in prosciutto – so Lara – and shot back outside.
‘Lupo, what’s this? Look what I’ve got for you.’
The dog paused in its barking, dropping down onto all fours while it sniffed the air. Then it charged towards me in a way that made me want to lie on the floor covered in gravy just to get ‘the kill’ over with. Instead, he started wagging his tail, smiling a great big toothy grin. I put out my palm flat in a stop sign and hoped I’d still have five fingers when I’d finished.
‘Sit. Sit!’ I pulled myself up to my full height in the vain hope I’d look big and dominant.
Incredibly the hound stuck its backside on the floor. I ripped off a piece of ham and gestured to Lara to get Sandro. After a few moments, Lara managed to coax Sandro onto the top of the rope ladder. She lifted him down and rushed towards the house, his thin arms wrapped around her neck.
I tore off a chunk of chicken and the dog was almost singing with delight, happy little yowling sounds coming from his throat.
When I heard Lara close the French windows, I shredded the rest of the meat, threw it down the garden and scuttled off myself.
Lara opened the door to me and collapsed down onto a stool.
‘Maggie, thank you. Thank you. Bloody bastard dog. Fucking hate it.’
The after-adrenaline shock and hearing Lara swear like that when she looked like she’d think twice about saying, ‘Bother’ if she dropped a brick on her foot, made me burst out laughing as though I had half a bottle of vodka and a spliff under my belt.
Sandro was sitting on the worktop, his feet drawn up under his chin.
‘Has Lupo ever done that before?’
Lara sighed. ‘Massimo wanted a proper guard dog. He wants us to be safe when he’s not here, but Lupo needs a firm hand and I don’t think we’ve quite trained him properly. I might have preferred a budgerigar.’ She started to laugh, then didn’t quite find the humour and a sob came bubbling out instead, causing Sandro to start crying again.
‘Well, maybe it’s time to think about rehoming him? Massimo’s not going to want Lupo terrorising you all.’
Lara shook her head, her voice rising. ‘No. No. We couldn’t do that. Massimo adores that dog. He’d be devastated if we had to get rid of him.’
‘He’d be more devastated if Sandro had a chunk of flesh missing out of his cheek.’
Sandro looked into the garden then lowered himself down from the worktop. His little voice rang out in the kitchen. ‘When Lupo bit Mum, Dad said it was her fault for not training him properly.’
‘He’s bitten you?’
‘It was nothing, just puppy playfulness, you know how sharp their teeth are when they’re little. And I had let him get away with murder, Massimo was right.’
‘He made you bleed, Mum.’ Sandro stood there, his dark eyes worried and watchful.
Lara laughed. ‘They were just little surface scratches, darling, their teeth are like tiny needles when they are young. Anyway, why don’t you go and draw a picture for Auntie Maggie?’
Sandro disappeared into the playroom.
‘Did Lupo really bite you?’ I asked.
‘No, not really, he was just doing that funny mouthing thing puppies do. It went a bit far.’
‘What does Massimo say? Is he worried about how Lupo behaves?’
Lara smiled. ‘Lupo’s always as good as gold for Massimo. The dog’s fine really, just gets a bit overexcited sometimes when Sandro winds him up.’
‘Lara, I was watching out of the window.’ I paused, realising how weirdy stalker/nosey neighbour that sounded. ‘Only because I heard the barking. Anyway, Sandro wasn’t teasing Lupo. He was just minding his own business. You saw the dog, he wasn’t playing, he was being really aggressive. Even you were frightened of him.’
‘That’s because I’m not very good with dogs. I was bitten as a child,’ she said, showing me a jagged scar on her right hand. ‘I prefer cats, but when Misty went missing, we decided a dog would be more of a family pet. Lupo will be fine if we just show him who’s boss.’