Gran Alice! shouted Matthew. Who gave you permission to keep a wolf in our village?
My heart sank as I saw the fence had collapsed, broken beyond my tired repairs yet again. All those attempts propping it up with old planks, patching rotten posts, hoping it would hold out until I saved enough from my modest pension. All for nothing. The fence was down, the dog roses tumbling onto the lane.
For ten years, Ive managed this little cottage alone, ever since my dear Richard passed away. He was such a handy man, you see. Steady hands, a gentle voice nothing ever fazed me while Richard was with me. He was a craftsman, a joiner and carpenter, never waiting for others to fix a thing. Folks in Foxcombe respected him for his kindness and how hard he worked. We had nearly forty wonderful years togetherjust one day short of our Ruby anniversary. The neat house, productive garden, spotless chickensall down to our shared effort.
Wed only the one sonEdward, the love and pride of our lives. From a little boy, Edward never needed asking to help. If I came home weary from the dairy, hed already have split logs for the hearth, fetched water from the well, stoked the old Rayburn, and fed the chickensall before his father was in from work.
Richard would wash up and then sit himself on the porch, pipe in hand, watching the sunset while I started on supper. Evenings, we always shared a meal, chatting through the news of the daycontent, together.
But time slips away, leaving only memories. Edward grew, went to Oxford, married a smart London lass called Emily, and settled in the city. At first, Edward would visit during holidays, but his wife soon persuaded him they ought to travel abroad instead. Each year was the same. Richard never did understand.
Where does our Eddie get so tired? Emilys always got his head turned with these holidays. Whats wrong with a bit of home comfort?
Richard fretted, and I pinedwhat else was there to do? Just live and hope for the odd letter from Edward. Then, quite suddenly, Richard fell ill. He lost interest in food, grew frightfully frail. The doctors prescribed this and that, but matters grew worse, and eventually they sent him home, saying there was nothing more to be done. That spring, as the hedgerows burst with blossom and skylarks sang above the meadows, Richard slipped away peacefully.
Edward came back for the funeral and wept as if it would drown the world, cursing his absent years. He stayed a week, then hurried off to London. In the decade since, hes written me just three times.
So I sold the last of the hens and the old Jersey cow to a neighbourwhat need had I now for livestock? Poor Bess, my gentle cow, lingered by the gate and lowed as I wept inside, hiding in the far bedroom, ears pressed shut to muffle my own tears.
Without my Richards hands, everythings gone to ruin, bit by bitleaky roof, rotten floorboards, water flooding the larder from the lane in heavy rain. Ive tried my best: saving from my pension for some handy help, and doing what I could myself. I grew up countrythere isnt much I havent had to muddle through.
So life plodded on, just about manageduntil my sight went. I could barely make out the prices in the village shop, and by Christmas, I was nearly blind to the sign above the door. Kindly Nurse Brown visited, urging me to let the hospital assess for cataract surgery.
Alice, do you want to lose your sight entirely? An operation could restore it!
But I was terrified of hospitals and refused. Within a year I could see little at all, though I tried not to fret. Id given up telly ages ago; now, I just listened to the newsreaders. I managed at home by memory, but sometimes a gnawing worry would creep in.
The village had changedmore strangers about. Empty cottages were easy prey for thieves and, with no dog to warn off the wrong sort, I felt vulnerable at night.
So I asked George, who went shooting on the estate, if he knew of any shepherd dog pups.
George, have you heard of any collie pups going spare? Even the runty one would do. Ill raise it up myself
George eyed me over his mug at the pub, and said, Why settle for a collie, Alice? I can get you a proper Alsatianstraight from the city kennels.
Sounds expensive, George.
To you, not as dear as youd think, Alice.
We struck a deal, and I counted out my precious savings, sure I could stretch to both a decent fence and a good dog. George, though, always had another excusework here, a hunt there. Id tell him off for his empty promises, but honestly, I pitied him. George was much the same age as Edward; hed never left the village, had no family but his flask, slipping between odd jobs and hunting in the woods for mushrooms, berries, trout, and pine cones, which hed sell on for pennies.
After his benders, hed vanish into the woods, ashamed, then return dragging some bounty for lonely pensionersmyself includedin exchange for a dinner or a drink. Now, after the fence collapse, I needed his help yet again.
Looks like the dog will have to wait, I sighed. Ill have to pay George for the fence repair firstand theres precious little left.
He didnt come empty-handed. In addition to his tool bag, something inside his rucksack wriggled. Smiling slyly, he called me over.
Look who Ive brought round for you. He showed me the bundle.
I reached out and felt a fluffy little head, trembling with excitement.
You didnt! George, you brought me a puppy? I was amazed.
The best city-bred Alsatian money can buy, Alice, old girl!
But panic immediately set in. George, Ive only got enough to pay you for the fence!
Cant bring it back now, Alicedo you know what I paid for this hound?
So off I went, scuttling to the shop, where Mrs. Harris let me have five bottles of stout on Georges tab and wrote my debt alongside my name in her black book.
By sundown, the fence was fixed and George had been well fed and well watered. He settled in at the table, offering advice in a half-drunken slur, gesturing at the puppy already curled up near the hearth.
You must feed him twice a day, put him on a strong chainhell grow up sturdy and loyal. I know dogs, trust me.
And so, my house gained a new residentBuster. The darling pup grew quickly, and I grew to love him, while he repaid my devotion with tail-wags and licks whenever I came outside. But there was one puzzlehe grew enormous, nearly the size of a calf, but didnt bark at all. That troubled me.
Oh, George! What a rogue you arehooking me with a soft-mouthed dog.
But who could turn away such a sweet creature? He hardly needed to bark anywaythe village dogs didnt dare even look at Buster. In just three months, hed shot up nearly to my waist.
One frosty afternoon, Matthewthe local gamekeeperwalked past heading to the shop for matches and bacon. With the hunting season upon us, the menfolk spent months in the woods. He stopped dead outside my gate when he saw Buster.
Gran Alice! Who let you keep a wolf in Foxcombe?
My hands flew to my chest as the penny dropped.
Good heavens! That rascal George diddled me! Told me he was an Alsatian
Matthew frowned. You must take him back to the woods, Alice. Something bad might happen if you dont.
The tears came fast and hot. Oh, how I hated the thought of giving up Buster! Gentle, loyal Bustereven if he was a wolf. Lately, hed been restless, tugging at his chain, desperate for freedom. People in the village kept their distance, wary of his wild looks. I had no choice. Matthew took him deep into the woods. He wagged his tail, just once, and vanished into the trees. No one saw him again.
I missed Buster terribly and cursed George for his trickery, though I know he only meant well. As it turned out, George had found Buster abandoned, a pup whod lost his mother during one of Georges rambles in the woods. He thought, if I raised the wolf cub, itd one day run off, and meanwhile, hed get me a real dog. But Matthews interference ruined that plan.
For days after, George loitered around my door, shamefaced, not daring to come in. Heavy snow fell and I kept my fire stoked, haunted by the emptiness.
One wild wintry night, a knock came at the door. I shuffled to open it, blind as I was. A stranger.
Evening, gran. Any chance of a bed? Im lost on my way to Great Badgers Woodthe storm caught me out.
What was your name, then? I can barely make you out.
Barry, he replied.
I frownedno Barrys lived round here.
I bought the old Miller place at the end of the lanenot been inside yet. My cars stuck in a drift.
Oh, you bought Mr. Harriss cottage! I ushered him in, set the kettle boiling. But I didnt notice how greedily his eyes raked the old dresserwhere us country folks often hide our rainy-day cash.
No sooner had I turned my back to tend the stove than I heard the faint click of the dresser drawers.
What do you think youre doing, Barry?
Oh, just helping you clear out old cashyou know, the government said to hand it in!
Nonsense. Theres been no such thing! Who are you really?
Faster than a flash, he pulled a knife, pressing it to my throat, growling for money, jewels, food.
I frozehe was a criminal, surely wanted by the law. My time was up…
Just then, the door crashed open and in bounded a massive wolfBuster! He leapt straight for the thief, who yelped as Busters jaws clamped on his scarf. The robber lashed out, knife slashing Busters shoulder. My wolf sprang aside, and the man fled, cursing, into the storm.
As luck would have it, George was approaching to make amends and nearly collided with the knifeman outside. Sensing trouble, George hurried in to find me and poor Buster bleeding on the floor. He pieced it all together and shot straight off to tell the local constable.
The culprit was caught and locked up, earning himself a fresh spell in prison.
Buster became the toast of the villagefolk brought titbits and scraps, always pausing to greet him. No more chains for Buster, my brave friend had earned his freedom. Yet he always returned to my side, often with George after a long hunt.
One sunny morning, a sleek black Land Rover pulled up outside. Someone was splitting logs in the yardmy son, Edward, home at last! When he saw George, he wrapped him in a bear hug. That evening we all gathered round the table, warmth and laughter filling the house as Edward convinced me to head to London for the operation to restore my sight.
Well thenif I must, I sighed. Ill just have to see my grandson this summer, its been too long. George, look after the cottage and Buster, wont you?
George nodded, and Buster, content and at peace, settled by the old stove. His place was here, among friends.
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