The Unorthodox Arrival of Pumpkin Allan (19 page)

When after ten minutes or so there was neither sight nor sound of Tom, she got up and pulled on some leggings and a T-shirt, to go and investigate. Opening the bedroom door, she was hit by a foul smell, which she couldn’t quite identify, but which made her retch. There was absolutely no sign of Tom downstairs. Well actually that was not strictly true. There were muddy footprints leading from the front porch, over the brand new fawn coloured carpet into the kitchen and back again. And the stench downstairs was horrific! He had clearly been sick somewhere. Lois followed the footprints to the kitchen sink, where she nearly vomited herself. The sink, where her trousers and shoes were soaking, was now topped up with the most disgusting-smelling puke!

Lois felt her hackles rising. She had never lost her temper with Tom, but she was tired, they had a couple of busy days coming up and how could he do this to her! Anyway, where the hell was he, he wasn’t in the house. Lois opened the front door and peered out into the blackness. She couldn’t see a thing, but above the sound of the driving rain, she thought she could hear somebody giggling. She grabbed Debbie’s raincoat, put it on and ventured outside in the direction of the laughter, the door, assisted by a strong breeze through the open windows, slammed itself shut behind her.

“Oh no!” said Lois, realizing she was now of the house. “Tom, where are you?”

“I’m here my precioush!” Tom slurred. “Ow that hurt! You jusht kicked my head!”

“It’s lucky I didn’t fall over you! What are you doing lying on the grass? It’s pouring out here, you must be completely drenched.”

“I was shick my special, oh….” And Lois had the pleasure of hearing Tom being sick again, and then he laughed! How could he find it funny? He was lying in the front garden, in pitch dark and pouring rain, puking up something that smelled like it had died and rotted inside him and yet he was finding it hysterically funny.

“God, it smells terrible Tom! What the hell have you been drinking?”

“Beer my pet, lovely beer. But I think the problem might have been the fisch pie, and the, oh, what’shit called, the shtuff the Pope drinksh? You know, Billy Connelly, green?”

“Creme de menthe, oh my God, not a pint, please tell me it wasn’t a pint!” The thought was enough to set him off again. Lois held her nose with one hand and half-heartedly rubbed his shoulder with the other until he’d finished and had once again started chuckling to himself.

“Only a half my pet,” he laughed again, “only a half. Richard had a pint though, jusht like Billy Connelly!”

Lois realised there was absolutely no point being cross with him, the impact would be lost. She helped him into a sitting position, then onto his knees, then his feet. Then she remembered about the door. “Oh my God, I think I might have locked us out!” said Lois, feeling something close to despair.

“Don’t you worry my little angel,” slurred Tom, “I’ve got a key right….” he floundered around trying to find the opening to his front trouser pocket.

“Let me,” said Lois, feeling for the pocket, then slipping her hand inside.

“Oooooh, cheeky!” said Tom, “we should probably wait till we get upshtairs, my little shex pod!”

“Oh p-lease!” said Lois in disgust, as she removed the key from his pocket and waved it in front of his face. She supported Tom to the front door, opened it, let him in as far as the doormat, where she made him stop and he leant on her back as she removed his shoes. She then removed his soaking, vomity clothes as Tom made suggestive comments, which made Lois feel quite sick. She left him naked, shivering and giggly on the mat, under strict instructions not to move, while she hurried to get a bin liner. She bundled his clothes and shoes into it and threw it out of the front door.

Tom registered the footprints on the carpet from earlier. “Who did that?” he demanded in a gruff, serious voice.

“Who do you think?”

“Oh my precioush, I’m shooooo shorry! I’ll get a cloth and wipe them up.” Tom raised a wavering finger in the air as he contemplated his next move and started chuckling to himself again.

“No, you won’t. You’ll go to the bathroom, clean yourself up and if you promise not to be sick anymore you can get into bed, otherwise, may I suggest you sleep in the bath?”

“Goodjidea. The barf. Yesh, shleep, inna barf. I might barf in the barf!” Tom chuckled, as he made his way up the spiral staircase, hanging onto the banister and heaving himself up by it, as if the staircase was was almost vertical. Lois followed, but not directly behind. If he was to fall she didn’t want him to take her out too.

Once upstairs, Lois got Tom to sit down in the shower. He was so cold and wet already that he barely noticed that the water started off cold, which, Lois admitted to herself, was a touch disappointing. She squirted some shower gel into his hands and ordered him to wash, which he duly did, humming to himself. Lois showered him off, ordered him out, helped him to dry and loaded a toothbrush with which he scrubbed at his teeth. Lois allowed Tom to settle on the blow-up mattress and then went back downstairs. She took one look at her trousers and shoes in the sink and decided they were probably ruined anyway, even before the vomit. She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, let the plug out and, while looking the other way, breathing heavily and deliberately through her mouth, she wrung them out, double bagged them and threw them out of the back door. The footprints, she decided, could wait until tomorrow.

The next day Lois’s alarm went off at seven, she reflexly hit the snooze button, three times. At half past she dragged herself out of bed, grumbling as she went. She never coped very well with lack of sleep. The house smelt disgusting which didn’t help matters. She just managed to refrain from kicking Tom’s feet, which were poking out of the end of the blow-up mattress, as she passed. She got dressed into her leggings and T-shirt that she had brought to use for that day and realised that she had worn them the previous night to find Tom. The top stank; it had a smear of vomit on the shoulder. With no other clean clothes to wear, she swore quietly and started rummaging about in the bin liner in which she’d put her dirty clothes for the week. This widened her options to smelly, scrunched-up top which she’d been gardening in, smelly scrunched-up top she’d been cleaning in or non scrunched-up T-shirt with vomit stain and smell. ‘Mm tricky decision.’ she thought, feeling furious with Tom. Lois opted for scrubbing off the vomit, with Tom’s damp flannel, which she deliberately didn’t rinse out.

After bleaching the kitchen sink to try and get rid of the smell, Lois made herself a cup of tea and some cereal. Having eaten, she examined Tom’s footprints and decided they were best left until they were completely dry, then hopefully the hoover would suck them up. She organised the things they needed to take to the flat and put them by the front door and was just about to take Tom a cup of tea in an attempt to prize him out of bed, when there was a hard knocking at the door. Lois opened it to find Adam looking very out of sorts. Lois was about to make a witty quip related to last nights drinking episode, when she realised that Adam was upset about something.

“Ellie, have you seen Ellie, Jack’s dog? She’s disappeared.”

“No, I haven’t been out yet. When did she go?”

“Last night. Doreen let her out in the garden. The gate must have been left open. She’s so greedy, she probably went off rummaging for food and never came back, which really isn’t like her.”

“Oh God, I bet Jack’s beside himself!”

“I can’t tell you, I’ve never seen him so upset. Anyway I must carry on with the search. Please keep your eyes open.”

“Adam I’ll help. Which way do you want me to go?”

“Well, I’m going to the barns opposite and round the back. Would you knock at the rest of the houses and ask everyone to check their gardens, maybe you check Bert and Betty’s? I’ve seen Dave already.”

“Sure!”

Lois went upstairs and woke Tom. She pretty much ordered him out of bed, thrusting the cup of tea into his hand. Then told him that she had to go out and when she returned in twenty minutes, it would be time to go. She grabbed a fleece and her old shoes and set off.

As soon as she left the house she heard Jack calling for Ellie, the tone of his voice sounding uncharacteristically despondent. The thought of how Jack would react to the permanent loss of Ellie sent a chill down Lois’s spine. Despite hardly knowing him, she had picked up very clearly that Ellie had transformed Jack’s life beyond recognition. As Lois turned out of the garden gate and onto the road she could see Jack leaning forwards as far as he could in his wheelchair, his paralysed hand flopping down towards the ground. He was checking under the hedges. Jack looked up when he heard Lois approaching. He looked so upset and worried, a lump rose in Lois’s throat. He was about to speak when his gaze moved passed Lois and he let out a mournful cry. Lois looked around to see Adam, with Ellie lying flaccid in his arms. She was soaking wet, with blue foam around her mouth and blood on her tail.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” said Adam. “Rat poison. She is still alive. I’ll take her to the vet.”

Jack shook his head and beckoned to Adam to bring Ellie to him. Adam lay her on Jack’s knee with her head resting in the crook of his paralysed arm, his good arm over her to prevent her slipping off. Ellie looked up at him and wagged her tail, then went limp. Adam felt Ellie’s chest for a pulse, there was nothing, “Jack I’m so sorry.” Jack bowed his head down towards the lifeless dog, stroked her tummy and began to sob.

Adam put a hand on Jack’s shoulder and crouched beside him. Lois, feeling at a loss as to what to do, thought the best thing would be to go and find Doreen.

The door was answered in seconds. She looked at Lois expectantly, then seeing the tears that were quickly making their way down Lois’s face, knew. Doreen embraced Lois and there they stood for several minutes, both of them distraught at the thought of what this loss was going to do to Jack. Eventually Doreen let go, put the door on the latch and the two of them went to find him.

Jack and Adam were exactly as Lois had left them. Doreen crouched down in front of Jack; she gave Ellie a stroke and, through her tears thanked her for all that she’d done. Then without saying a word she wheeled Jack back to the house with Lois and Adam following. When they arrived at the front door, Adam suggested to Jack that he took Ellie to the back garden, but Jack clung onto the body and for once, Lois thought his words “Oh bugger off!” were exactly what he wanted to say. Doreen put her hand on Adam’s arm, “Don’t worry Adam, can I call you in a while, he needs some time.” He nodded and, with Lois, quietly left, as Doreen tearfully wheeled Jack round to the back of the house.

Lois felt completely flat as she walked back to the cottage. It had been going to be such an exciting day, packing up the flat for the big move tomorrow, but now she felt she wouldn’t be able to raise any enthusiasm. As she opened the front door she remembered her hungover fiancé. Now she
really
wasn’t in the mood.

Fortunately Tom was well on the way to recovery. He had showered, eaten, drunk several pints of water and found some Alka Seltzer tucked away in his wallet. A vague memory of some of the events of the previous night made him sufficiently aware that he needed to make a major effort to make things up to Lois today.

“Where’ve you been?” Tom asked, giving Lois a hug. She was tempted to push him away, the smell of alcohol was still seeping through his pores, but as he had clearly been making an effort to recover himself, she hugged him back.

“I’ll explain in the car. We’re late, lets go. We don’t want our man with a van to give up on us.”

Tom had already loaded his car with everything Lois had left by the door. She did a quick check of the list she’d made the previous day, then took the keys from Tom. There was no way she’d let him drive anywhere today. And off they went.

Lois filled Tom in on what had happened that morning. She had put some tissues up her sleeve before they left, knowing it would be difficult to tell him without crying. She tried to dab her eyes as surreptitiously as possible. Lois had never been good in sad situations. She always cried her way through sad films and books. “Jack’s days are going to be so empty without Ellie, she’s been his constant companion. And Doreen, poor Doreen, having seen Jack through his stroke, to see him now, no doubt sink into another depression. Plus her own grief at losing Ellie, it’s just so sad.”

“Where did Adam find her?” asked Tom.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I know he said he’d go and look for her at the barns, and ‘around the back’, whatever that means.”

“That must have been the barns he showed me the other day, opposite our house. Lots of rats over there, but who would have put down poison without using a safe container? That’s just bloody stupid. We ought to find out who’s responsible. Presumably the groundsman from the manor would have done it.”

“It’s a bit late now Tom, she’s dead.”

“What about the other dogs. I’ve seen Annie and Dave’s two go through the hole in that hedge, imagine if they died too!”

Lois told Tom to phone Annie and make sure she knew what had happened, so she didn’t let Rupert and Reaver out unaccompanied until the source of the poison had been found and sorted. When Tom had put the phone down Lois asked, “So, how was the night out with the boys?”

“Do you know, strangely, I can’t remember much about it. I knew they did a great range of locally brewed beer in the pub, but I hadn’t planned to try them all! I remember getting very wet on the way home and that’s about it.”

“You said, or should I say you slurred something last night about fish pie and creme de menthe.” At the mention of which, Tom became tinged with green.

“Oh dear, no wonder I’m feeling a tadge under the weather!”

The traffic going into London was predictably slow, so they didn’t arrive at the flat until ten thirty. There wasn’t a parking space within two hundred yards and there was no sign of Ed or his van in the entire street. Lois gave a sigh, thought briefly about Jack and Doreen and decided having the packing man not turn up was not such a disaster.

They went into the flat, collecting the mail from the doormat as they went, then Lois rang Ed. He was coming, but had got caught in traffic and would be there within fifteen minutes. That gave them time for a cup of tea and a soft biscuit (Tom was never good at sealing up packets or using air tight containers). “So,” he said, reaching for Lois’s hand across the table, “was I very sick last night?”

“Very sick? Yes Tom, I think very sick would sort of cover it.” Lois thought for a moment, “But hang on, very sick, then very sick again. That would describe it better. Or even, producing copious volumes of vomit. How about that?”

“Ok, ok, I get the message. Please stop before I do it again!”

She looked up from the bank statement she had been pretending to concentrate on. She smiled at him. “I’m not sure our little willow tree will survive the experience and you might have to go and rescue some turf to replace the patch of lawn which will almost certainly die! Still I suppose it’s a good thing you were sick, think what you’d feel like now if you hadn’t been.” She thought for a moment, “Actually, forget the lawn, you may have died. Half a pint of creme de menthe! What were you thinking?”

“Funnily enough, I can’t remember what I was thinking, but probably something along the lines of, ‘wouldn’t it be funny to drink half a pint of creme de menthe!’”

“I wonder how Richard is. I went round to their’s for a drink with Debbie last night. She said he’s got his first private patient going to the house this morning. That could be interesting!”

The doorbell rang and, to Lois and Tom’s relief, there stood Ed and Co., fully laden with packs of flat cardboard boxes, tape, packing paper, coloured stickers and marker pens. Lois breathed a sigh of relief; it looked like they might be going to be really well organised. “Well, what shall we do?” Lois asked Ed as he started taping boxes together.

“Well, every box we pack, you seal and write wos innit and which room t’ pud it in at the uvver end. And anyfink delicate tha’ you don’ trust us wif, you pack yerselves. Ok? And, any chance of a cuppa?”

By one forty-five the packing was finished and Ed was eager to load the van. “We cud do the ‘ole fing t’day if yer want. Plen’y o’ time,” Ed said to Tom, who felt like Ed was talking in a foreign language. Ed could see that Tom, who stank of booze, couldn’t understand. He wondered what a nice woman like Lois was doing with an alcoholic.

“Move, today?” Ed said very slowly, in an attempt to help Tom get the message, “To Buck-in-am-shire?” Fortunately Lois overheard this as she was coming into the room. Tom looked like he had glazed over, his lack of sleep and alcohol consumption catching up with him.

“That would be brilliant Ed! Do you think there’s time?”

“Yeh, easy.”

“Go for it then!” said Lois, feeling really excited for the first time that day.

At ten o’clock in the evening, Tom slumped onto the sofa and Lois sat on his knee and hugged him. “Home sweet home!” she said with a broad grin.

“Luxury isn’t it? Sitting on a sofa,” said Tom, eyes closed, feeling exhausted and hungry.

Lois felt completely drained, even though Ed and his three helpers had done practically all the work. They had been absolutely brilliant, really well organised and very efficient. It was so lovely to see the cottage with their furniture in, it made it feel real at last.

There was a quiet knock at the door. It was Dave and Annie, with a bottle of champagne and sandwiches.

Annie gave Lois a huge hug. “What an emotional day!” she said, smiling and trying to blink a tear away at the same time. “Welcome,” she hugged Tom, “and may I take this opportunity to say how delighted we are that you’re here! What luxury, chairs to sit on!”

Dave opened the champagne. “Just a spot for me please Dave,” said Tom, suddenly feeling queasy at the sight of the alcohol, “not feeling quite myself.”

“Ah yes, I heard you popped out for a pint with the lads last night. Thought you were looking a little green around the gills old boy!” Dave slapped Tom on the back, “You’ll know what to expect next time! Anyway, let’s raise our glasses. To Harewood Park!”

“To Harewood Park!” the others chorused.

Annie, being forever practical and seeing how tired Tom and Lois were, asked if their bed was made up. When Lois said no, Annie found the bedding that had been dragged, with the deflated blow-up mattress, into the baby’s room and made up their double bed.

Annie and Dave finished their champagne and said they would leave Tom and Lois to get to bed. “Any news on Jack?” asked Lois.

“Mm, not good apparently,” said Dave. “I saw Adam earlier. He had been round to offer to bury the dog. Both Doreen and Jack were very upset and, the organisation that provided her for Jack, want to come and collect the body and have a post-mortem done, which really doesn’t help.”