Wonka's Easter Story Read online

  In this instance, as Duffel knew, the wait had been over a year and ‘him’ was a cross collie Labrador called Sam. Left behind on a previous visit (Sam had eyeballed another dog at the last vital minute) when the owner lost control and let go of the lead. Sam’s owner, leaving Earth without him and not up to much ever since. ‘Cried his eyes out for days on end, massive guilt trips, trauma, you name it – counselling to sort it – you can see how urgent this quest is Duffel, so for goodness sake don’t muck it up!’ Mr Watkins rattled this out and gave Duffel a hard look as he handed him a coat off the hat rack. ‘You’ll need this. Looks ordinary enough. It isn’t.’

  ‘But it’s a duffel coat,’ moaned Duffel to himself. ‘What’s special about that?’

  Wonka was in full flow and I didn’t like to stop him, but I thought I heard a scuffle in the yard. Nothing. ‘I’ve lost my place now, ‘ Wonka peered hard at the old bits of A4 with scribble on. ‘Duffel is set to find Sam, and get back home with him……………which is where exactly?’

  ‘Oh you know, another level thingy’ I said wondering if I should have expanded a bit more on that. NO! poetic licence and so on to the rescue. Anyway, the beauty of the Duffel stories as told by Dad, was that anything could happen to get Duffel out of a scrape and I had just changed his location.

  ‘Go on then…’ I urged Wonka, sipping my latest blend of tea full of health benefits not to mention the dairy free, the lactose free milk. I had questioned whether it was easier just to give up milk but was rather drawn to the idea of soya. Who knows it could be age defying and all sorts.

  ‘Are you listening?,’ Wonka said with a paw marking the page ‘then I’ll continue…..’

  Trudging up the track in the pouring rain with the wind full in his face, Duffel was glad of the coat. He’d put his hands in the deep pockets again, expecting to find nothing, and instead put his hands on a dog lead, a hankie, and a watch. The watch was the best and it really cheered him up. ‘Just like my old snoopy watch with the blue strap and it winds!’. It also told him he had precisely two hours left to deadline. ‘Must be the travel time to Earth that does it’ decided Duffel, ‘better get a move on’ and taking a quick look behind him he saw two people further down the track. One of them was a policeman, and the other looked like an old granny.

  Community Police Officer Makepiece had responded quickly to Mary Parker’s call. The reporting of an incident, as she put it, and something about a strange lad ‘casing the joint’. Finally out of his probationary period, CPO Makepiece was keen to get involved and his enthusiasm made him glow all over. He was jolly, patient, positive and for the moment resistant to any negative comment. And most of these coming from his fellow officers. No! This merely made him feel superior – a true policeman amongst lesser mortals. Who else would have arrived on Mark Parker’s doorstep in less than 3 minutes of taking the call.

  ‘Why,’ smiled Makepiece proudly, ‘even the Fire Service can’t beat that!’

  Accompanying Mary Parker down the street for the last known sighting of this strange young man – the duffel coat confirming his strangeness more that his ability to appear out of thin air, CPO Makepiece did wonder if he should have stopped off for a weapon. Deep pockets in said duffel coat had been mentioned – a gun maybe? Turning into the track at the bottom end of the street they saw Duffel quite a way ahead, and Mary clapped the policeman on the arm in her excitement. This was to leave a nasty bruise for weeks to come and a horrible reminder to Makepiece of an adventure he’d much rather forget.

  ‘Oh blast!’ Duffel spoke out loud anxious to hurry and find Sam and not be hampered by an old lady and the village Bobby, he knew all about policemen from his Modern History tutorials back home, but suddenly wondered if they might be out of date, ‘I’m sure there’s more happened since then –‘ Duffel concluded and putting his hands back into the deep pockets of his duffel coat wished hard for something to stop these two coming any nearer.

  And that’s exactly what happened, or at least the branch swinging across the track, snapping from the trunk of the Ash tree and knocking CPO Makepiece to the ground, rendered one person useless for the moment. Mary tried to move the fallen branch away from this nice young policeman and couldn’t. it stayed where it was, pinning him to wet ground beneath. ‘Are you all right?’ She had to shout as the wind beat even harder almost forcing her backwards. Struggling to remain calm if not jolly, the felled policeman instructed her as best he could. ‘I can’t hear you!’ shouted Mary, ‘did you say follow at a safe distance?’ This was definitely not CPO Makepiece’s instruction, and as he struggled against the branch and the shrieking wind – had this been forecasted? – he watched in horror as Mary taking his frustrated rolling around as encouragement to get on with it, sped off up the track.

  His career momentarily grounded, Makepiece resorted to taking deep breaths, in very slowly to the count of ten and just as precisely released. This did aid his concentration and continued its soothing effect despite his mobile phone ringing in a pocket he couldn’t reach.

  Duffel had seen some of this but didn’t connect it with the duffel coat, and was highly delighted to have things go in his favour. ‘What a stroke of luck – hit by a branch! He giggled, ‘just when I needed it.’ He continued on, walking easily now as the gale force wind seemed to have dropped to a gentle breeze, and he checked his watch. Confident he was now alone, alright for time and able to complete the quest, Duffel turned to his right. Down at the end of a quiet cul de sac he saw the school. He strolled down the road whistling and really enjoying himself. His old school loomed ahead, empty and quiet for now, with its uniform high windows and huge double doors set within a porch like entrance.

  ‘All I have to do is to sneak up, watch out for the Caretaker, and get Sam.’

  I had drifted off for a moment transported to the books and dreams and childhood worries. When did the Duffel stories stop? When me and my brother started school perhaps and went our separate ways, me to form my new world and escapes from it. ‘Bunny rabbit wallpaper!’ I informed Wonka, delighted to remember my bedroom at the time. They were all doing something different so when I was fed up with one bit I could move on. ‘You’ll be singing those were the days in a minute,’ cut in Wonka, ‘ What happens next?’

  Duffel was on target to find Sam. Now I ought to make it clear that Sam had been a real dog, and what’s more, my real dog. He was a legend of a dog and had attained a sort of hero status many years ago, simply because of his intelligence and big heart. Oh, and he was a nanny dog because he loved all my cats. Every Sunday, when I had moved nearer to the small Essex village where Mum and Dad had set up for what turned out to be the last family home, me and Sam took the short bus ride over to visit. My chance had come to resurrect him and I knew my Dad would approve of him starring in a Duffel story. It joined them together again.

  ‘This is what happens next,’ I prompted Wonka, showing him the place in the story, and he read on:

  Meanwhile, Sam, oblivious to Duffel and the quest to rescue him and reunite him with his owner, was indeed where Mr Watkins had said he was. Dozing in his basket by the desk in the Caretaker’s office. Well more of a box room really, but Albert liked it, especially with the door locked and the kids on the outside. Loyal and protective, Sam was very fond of Albert who had taken him in on that terrible day when his real owner had left without him. Sam had refused to leave the place where he had last seen him and it was either go with Albert or the police. ( ‘That dog’s causing an obstruction’). Sam had been lying in the middle of the road, wet and cold for hours now, and knowing it was time to give up, trotted slowly over to Albert.

  Albert had really taken to the dog, consulting friends and professionals when Sam refused to eat and kept returning to this same spot in the road every evening. Circling and whimpering like some kind of ritual. ‘Just beats me’ mused Albert, ‘ what happened to Sam – all I know is his name, but no address or
phone number on his collar. Who would dump such an intelligent animal?’ So Albert had cared for Sam, doing what he could to ease the animal’s distress and often spending more time with him that at home. At first Albert’s wife had tolerated this arrangement even posing with them for a photo in the School Magazine.

  It featured in the ‘Welcome to new members of the School’ section, along with three new pupils and a Domestic Assistant (the cleaner). Suggestions as to where Sam might have come from were invited but with the only clue available being the insignia of seven stars on the round metal disc clipped to his collar – most ideas were not taken seriously. The best idea and the one that had Albert laughing out loud in the safety of his office, sat at the desk, as he was now, was delivered in person by one of the new lads, Gregory. Knocked at the Caretaker’s office door one morning straight after assembly and clutching the school mag.

  ‘It’s a well-known fact Sir, that the Ancients all studied the sky and the path of the stars and constellations we know as the seven sisters – could it be that this dog is not from our planet at all but another parallel world somewhere?’ After telling Gregory not to repeat this in Class (that boy’s life won’t be worth living he later told his wife), Albert went back inside his office and fairly howled with laughter. ‘You Sam – an alien – an alien dog!’ Sam just gazed benignly back thumping his tail and panting slightly. Going home seemed to be a laughing matter to his temporary owner, but it filled him with an incredible longing. A yearning that never left him. He got out of his basket and put his head on Albert’s knee and was rewarded with a pat and a biscuit. Just lately though, the yearning was stronger and not fading away, and Sam, being far seeing like all animals, sensed a change.

  Albert, on his morning rounds, was thoughtful and didn’t notice Sam’s mood. He had his own to deal with. The words shouted by his wife as he left for work came back to him. ‘Yes – you think more of that dog than you do me!’ his wife had shouted after yet another argument about Albert’s many absences. ‘either he goes or you do –‘

  Silent as always, for Albert never argued back, knowing that actions speak louder than any words he might have picked, closed the front door firmly behind him. A decision must certainly be made but he knew he could not give Sam up. This loyal and loving companion did not deserve such a fate. So what then? Rounding the drive that circled the School and taking them both back to the side entrance, Albert bumped into Gwen, the new cleaner. They had struck up a friendship soon after she started at St Francis, and managed to meet up every morning to chat about their shared passion for gardening – and make a fuss of Sam. This morning though, Gwen knew immediately something was up and was just about to find out what when she realised they were being watched.