An afternoon nap brought no reliefjust a cloying anxiety and a parched mouth. I awoke with a strange, almost physical sensation of emptiness in my legs, as if someone had pulled a hot water bottle from under my duvet. Usually, Duke, my golden retriever, slept there, his heavy, steady breathing soothing me better than any sleeping draught.
Now, the bed felt empty; the sheet chilly against my skin. I swung my legs to the floor and shivered; a draught swept through the flat as though searching for something. The house was thick with the sort of muffled silence that rings in your ears. No click of claws on the floorboards, no familiar sigh, no shake of a shaggy coat. Nothing.
Duke? My voice sounded foreign and brittle. No one came. The flat suddenly felt unnaturally vast, hostilea place from which warmth had been bled dry. I walked the long hallway, steadying myself against the wallpaper as my heart pounded riotously in my throat, sending fevered pulses through my temples.
Emily, my daughter-in-law, was in the kitchen, leg elegantly crossed over the other. At twenty-six, she looked straight out of a glossy magazinesilken hair, perfect skin, a gaze that never gave away an ounce of kindness or empathy. She twirled a glass of thick green smoothie and scrolled through her phone, grinning at its screen as though shed just won the lottery.
Emily, wheres the dog? My knees threatened to give way, so I leaned against the doorframe, masking the tremor in my legs.
She looked up lazily, cold contentment flickering in her blue eyes. She took a dainty sip; a streak of green dabbed her upper lip, which she languidly licked away. Oh, Mrs. Parker, youre up? Well, about Duke its a bit of a story, really. He was whimpering and pacing around, clawing at the door. I thought his tummy must be upset?
She fluttered her hands dramatically, flashing a manicure so red it looked almost menacing. I opened the door, lead in hand, and he boltednearly knocked me over! I called after him, Duke, wait! He didnt even flick an ear. Gone. Maybe its the call of the wildspring, you know, all those scents. He wont come back, Mrs. Parker. Theres an old saying: if a family dog leaves on its own, its because it wants to spare its family the heartache of its passing.
A rusty, jagged key twisted inside me, scraping at my insides.
What spring, Emily? I managed, my fingertips icy cold. Its November. And he was neutered five years ago. Hes petrified of the lift and on walks never leaves my side.
Emily shrugged, dripping with indifference, the gesture making me feel sick. She truly did not carenot in the leastabout my pain. Perhaps he just grew tired of this concrete box. Yearned for the countrysidethe woods and wide open spaces. Hes an animal, after all.
My eyes fell on the car keys, carelessly tossed on the table. The keyringa fluffy white rabbitsuddenly looked like the most sinister object in the world. The keys werent on the hall console where they belonged; shed left them conspicuously here, in the kitchen. She hadnt just opened the door. She had driven a member of my family away whilst I slepttaken advantage of my frailty.
I turned and walked to the hallway, cold determination swelling inside me. On foot, Id never find him if shed taken him far, but I couldnt sit and watch her victorious smirk. She was clearing out impediments before her departure.
The next four hours were a clinging, airless nightmare. I scoured the estate, peered under every car, screamed myself hoarse until my throat burned. I rang every neighbourmy hands shook so badly the phone tumbled onto the pavement twice. I messaged the neighbourhood WhatsApp group, attaching a photo of Dukegrinning, tongue lolling, pure joy in his eyes. Lost dog. Friendly, trusting. Will approach anyone
No one had seen him. No one.
Back home, I swallowed heart drops, though the bitter taste only made me queasier. The flat, bought by my son James for all of us, had turned into a battleground, one which Id lost with nothing but silence for ammunition. Emily moved past me with all the disregard of someone ignoring tatty old furniture left out for the bin men.
In the hallway, a giant, open pink suitcase yawned on the floor like a beast. Emily methodically crammed swimwear, sarongs, and fancy creams inside. Dont get so worked up, Mum, she called over her shoulder, arms full of silk dresses. Really, why bother with that old mutt? His furs everywhere, he reeks, leaves slobber on the floor Foul. You should get something smaller, maybe a goldfish. Doesnt make a sound, doesnt need walking. James paid for an ultra all-inclusivemy mental health needs a boost, not your mourning.
Does James know? I asked, head down.
About the dog? Not yet. No use bothering him on a business trip. Hell find out when hes home. Or you could explain. Tell him hes old, you lost track, forgot the door It happens.
She hadnt just got rid of the dogshed plotted the whole story, ensuring Id be blamed. And James, my gentle, soft-hearted James, would believe her. Emily could cry without snot, look stunning even as she lied. Id just choke on my words, too frightened of seeming a paranoid, daft old woman.
In the dark lounge, I sat gripping Dukes chewed rubber ball; the only lifeline to a world where my dog was still alive. Dusk gathered, leaking purple, cold shadows that devoured everything familiar. The wind banged a lilac branch against the window, a grating, scratchy sound.
Suddenly the noise changed. It wasnt the glass. Not the branch. It was a gentle, timid scratching at the front door. And a faint, desperate whimper.
I leapt up so fast I saw stars. Dont remember how I reached the door, how my trembling fingers fumbled with the lock, how I wrenched it open.
There on the muddy doormat lay a bedraggled, shivering lump.
He smelt of damp earth, diesel, road grit, and pure, wild fear.
Duke! I breathed, falling to my knees right there on the cold lobby tiles.
He barely managed to lift his head. His golden coat was sodden, matted with burrs and twigs, his whole body wracked with shivers. He held his front right paw aloft, awkwardly, unwilling to put weight on it.
But in his mouth, he clutched somethingtight, jaws locked, gums pale.
A red, thick little booklet.
Youre alive My boy You came home I stroked his filthy head, never feeling an ounce of the disgust Emily had mentioned. There was only the pulse of life beneath my fingers. Let go, love What have you got for me?
He spluttered, then finally let his jaws open. The red booklet fell into my outstretched hand.
I wiped the cover on my dressing gown out of habit. The gold royal crest glinted in the hallway light. A passport.
I opened it with numb fingers. Emilys face stared backperfect hair, an ice-cool look of smug triumph. Stuck between the pages, like a gruesome placeholder, was a boarding pass. First class. Departure: 6 a.m. tomorrow.
The whole ugly picture snapped into place in my head. Shed driven Duke far offinto the countryside or a field, forced him out. He resisted, didnt want to go. No doubt her designer bag had tumbled onto the mud; the passport fallen out. In her rush, she didnt notice its loss. But Duke Duke hadnt just chased after the car. Hed found something that smelt of homeof her, of usand brought it back.
Hed covered miles on three legs, all to return that which shed lost while betraying him.
Whats all that racket? came a querulous voice. Mrs. Parker, have you left the door open again? Theres a frightful draught!
Emily appeared in the hallway, tightening a silk robe and adjusting a face mask. She looked utterly out of place in this real-life drama. Catching sight of the muddy dog, she froze. The mask now seemed her true faceblank, lifeless, emotionless.
Y-you? she squeaked, voice cracking with hysteria. But I I left you in the Chilterns! In the woods! Howthis cant be!
For the first time in his life, Duke growled at a person: a deep, primal snarl. He pressed his body against me, whether for protection or to protect me, I could not tell.
I picked myself up, using the wall for balance, my back and knees achingbut inside, a glacial, crystalline calm took root. All fear was gone. Only a cold revulsion remained, as if Id stepped in filth.
So, you said he ran away? I asked quietly, holding the passport at arms length as though it were a dead mouse. Call of the wild, was it? All the way to the Chilterns?
Emilys eyes shot from Duke to the item in my hand, pupils blown wide with shock. She recognised her passport.
Give it back! she shrieked, lunging at me. Thats mine! Where did you get it? Hand it over!
I stepped back, passport hidden behind me. Duke barkedshort, raspy, a warning. Emily recoiled as if shed hit a wall.
My flights at six! James paid a fortunegive it here, you oldohyou
Go on, finish it, I said coldly. Old bat? Senile? What is it you call me to your friends when you think I cant hear?
I dont care! Give me the passport! Youre nothing but a
But look at poor Dukes leg, I said, toning my voice for a small, cruel child. Hes limping. In pain. Needs a vetX-rays, maybe an MRI… Treatment is jolly expensive, Emily. Dreadfully expensive these days.
Her hands rummaged madly for non-existent pockets. Ill pay! Ten thousand? Twenty? Name your price, just give it back!
Its not about the money, I shook my head. Its about principle. You left a living beinga member of our familyto die alone in the cold and dark.
Hes just a dog! she screamed, her face blotching red beneath the mask. A hairy nuisance! I have Turkey! I have anxiety! Im exhausted!
You havent a nerve to strain, I said. Youve a calculator for a soul.
I opened the passport. Pages stuck together, wet from Dukes slobber. Oh dear, I said, feigning disappointment, examining the waterlogged pages. Looks damaged. The dog did carry it for twenty miles. Slobber, teeth, dirt I doubt customs will approve such a design.
Ill dry it out! Ill iron it! Give it here!
Even so I walked towards the open kitchen window.
We live on the ground floor, the window just above a tangled thicket of brambles and wild raspberriesa mass of thorns our old caretaker, Mr. Barnes, has never once bothered to clear. Outside, night was ink-black. The wind toyed with the snaggled branches.
You threw away my friend. Ill throw away your holiday.
No! Dont you dare! She hurled herself across the kitchen, knocking over a chair.
I swung my armcalm, unhurried, resolute. Fetch, Emily.
The red passport arched gracefully through the blackness. I heard the soft swoosh, then the snap of twigs as it landed deep in a bramble heart.
Go on, look for it! I commanded, voice frosty. If you try hard, perhaps youll find it by morning.
Emily let out a screech reminiscent of a wounded seagull and dashed to the window, hanging out half her body, searching desperately. But there was only darkness, wind, and thorns.
She whirled round, eyes blazing with pure, unfiltered hatred, and bolted out the door in nothing but her robe and slippers. I listened as she slammed the building door behind her.
Calmly, I closed the window. It was chilly nowDuke shouldnt catch another draught.
He lay on the living room rug, panting and licking his sore paw. I sat down next to him, pulled out the first aid kit. My hands were steady for the first time in months; my mind clear and light, as if Id shed a heavy rucksack of stones.
Lets have a look, hero, I crooned, switching on the lamp.
I gently examined his pads: not broken, though a bit bloody and swollen. I parted the matted fur between his toes.
There it wasa huge, dry bur, sharp as a hedgehog, lodged deep in the delicate flesh. No wonder hed limped so painfully.
Nearly done, boy, I whispered, reaching for the tweezers.
Duke flinched but didnt wrench his paw away. He trusted me, always had. One deft movement and out came the bloodied bur. I cleaned the wound, bandaged it, and Duke let out a sigh, settling his heavy head on my knees.
He was home.
From outside, I could just make out Emilys hysterical screams, muffled by the windows
Where is it?! Stupid thorns! Ow! I hate you all!
She crawled in the icy blackness, shredding her hands and the silk robe on the brambles. She cursed me, the brambles, the world. Her cries sounded like fitting justicean overture to her new, lonely life.
The lock clicked softly in the door.
I didnt jumpI knew it wasnt Emily. Shed run outside without her keys, in a fluster.
James appeared in the hallway, weary, unshaven, travel bag slung over his shoulder. Hed come back a day early to surprise us.
He froze at the scene: Duke, filthy and bandaged; me on the floor with dressings; bloodied bur on the table.
Mum? he frowned, peering at us. Whys Emily crawling around in the shrubs under the window, swearing her head off? I shouted but she didnt answer.
I smiled, calm as one whos survived a storm. Shes just practising for a new reality show. Survival training in the wild.
James unlaced his shoes, came into the living room. He looked at Duke, who, recognising him, gently thumped his tail in greeting. He glanced at me, at the open first aid kit, at the bloody bur.
She took him, didnt she? His voice was soft but sure.
Not lost or let out. He saw it all. James was always smarthed seen her chilly looks, her petty cruelties. Like many men, hed chosen not to interfere, hoping things would smooth over. Tonight, reality drew a hard line.
She did, I confirmed. Drove him to the Chilterns while I slept. Said he ran away for romance. But Duke came home.
James stepped to the window and looked down into the darkness, where Emilys phone torch flitted about in the brambles.
And the passport? he asked quietly, still turned away. Shes shrieking about a passport.
Duke found it. In the woods where she dumped him. Brought it home in his teeth. Bit the thing right through. Then itI supposefell out the window. Mustve been the draught.
James stood, jaw taut. Hed loved Emilyor thought he did, the image she presented. But Duke hed carried home as a puppy, ten years past; Duke was a piece of his own soul, the part that remembered Dad, remembered camping holidays, childhood. A betrayal like this could never be forgiven. Love ends at those lines.
Right, he said heavily, taking off his blazer and hanging it on a chair. His movements were quiet, weary, final. Shes not going to Turkey, then.
Shes certainly not, I said, filling Dukes bowl to the brim. The clatter of kibble was the most comforting sound in the world. That passports quite ruined.
James flopped down beside Duke, burying his face in the scruffy fur, which smelt of trees and earth. Duke licked his ear with gratitude.
No matter, James said, voice thick but resolute. Ill go instead. Just me and you, Mum. And Duke, too there are plenty of places here that welcome dogs. He needs recovery after that ordeal. So do you.
A triumphant, then strangled, scream echoed from outside, making the glass quiver.
Found it! Found it! Oh God, what have you done?!
Emily had found her passportand, as Id noticed before I flung it, there was a deep canine puncture right through the centre. The visa page was now tattered and useless.
James stood, put the kettle on.
Fancy a cuppa, Mum? Bit of mint tea? Strong?
I would, love. I really would.
The flat grew warm. Silence and bitterness retreated before the bubbling of the kettle and the contented crunch of dog biscuits. We were home. We were family.
And Emilywell, she was exactly where she belonged: outside, in the cold, alone with her spite and a shredded passport that would let her escape nowhere.
A week later, we truly did leavea charming seaside cottage owned by a couple who adored retrievers. Duke limped for another day, but the sea air and saltwater worked miracles.
As for Emilyshe moved in with her mother. They say she spent ages tending her nerves and her wounds from the brambles. But some scars are left not just on the skin.
Sometimes, the measure of a person is not how they treat those they needbut how they treat those who need them. Compassion is the hearthstone of any family. If you toss out kindness, life often gives you back nothing but brambles and the cold night.
