Intruder Read online

  ‘Ew,’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘That’s rank . . .’

  The waft turned into a full-force acrid stink and we both spun round, nailing the culprit.

  ‘HERC!’

  ‘That’s disgusting.’

  ‘Get him outside!’

  ‘Wait a minute, he’s got something.’ I coughed and grabbed at the soggy boot clamped between his teeth, but he ducked away before I could reach it.

  ‘By the looks of it, I’d say it used to be an ugg boot,’ Al remarked. ‘Now, it is merely a physical manifestation of unadulterated foot odour, squared, cubed and multiplied by something dead. Nice one, Herc.’

  The blood rushed into my face. ‘Oh no, that’s my old uggie.’ I bent down to take it off him, but Herc skipped away again, shaking the rancid thing so that the stench puffed out in small putrid bursts.

  Al coughed delicately. ‘Face it, Kat, he’s not going to give that up. He’s discovered the Holy Grail of smells. His olfactory glands are way more sensitive than ours. If he had a longer muzzle, he’d have it buried right into the heart of that boot, savouring the subtle aromas produced by two hundred and fifty thousand sweat glands and a variety of bacteria only otherwise found on cheese –’

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’ I demanded, making another wildly unsuccessful lunge for the boot. Herc’s tail thumped in reply. Clearly I was the only one not having fun with this game.

  ‘I threw those uggies out weeks ago.’ Jimmy made me do a major clean-out at the start of the holidays and I did another just before Christmas. ‘How the hell did Herc get that?’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t throw them out completely?’ suggested Al. ‘Maybe you shoved it all in a box and forgot about it, and the box has been lying around the house like unburied treasure waiting for Long John Silver over there to – hey, what’s the matter?’

  I rushed to the window and craned my neck to look outside. He was right. The box was still lying around. But not at my place.

  All my cast-offs were stuffed into a carton propped up against the front gate of the evil witch next door.

  Nineteen

  I stormed through the rosebushes, oblivious to the scrape and sting of thorns, the excited scamper of Herc at my heels and the rapid-fire questions from Al, trailing in my wake.

  I aimed straight for the front gate, grabbed the box and upended it, spewing out its load of mismatched grungy running shoes, old school uniforms, too-small socks, torn tights, disreputable undies, stained t-shirts, shredded cut-offs, and an unlikely fluorescent top that I swore had never once touched my body.

  ‘This is all mine,’ I growled out between clenched teeth. ‘All of it. Is. Mine.’

  Al looked uncertainly at the pile, then at Herc digging through it like a truffle hound. He grabbed his collar and hauled him free. ‘Just between you and me, buster, now wouldn’t be a good time to arm-wrestle her for this lot. What do you say – how about we let her have it?’

  ‘I don’t want it! For crying out loud, Al, I’ve already chucked it out once. I just want to know what the hell she’s doing with all my old stuff!’

  ‘Why don’t you just ask me?’

  Edwina stood at the top of the steps, looking down on us.

  I grabbed Herc by the collar, prised a stiff sneaker out of his jaws and tossed it at her feet. The shoe hadn’t been worn since my year seven camp and was still caked with mud from Owen Maddock Dam.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ I demanded.

  She bent down, picked up the sneaker and stepped towards us. ‘I retrieved some of it from the pile you put out for the last kerbside pick-up. And some of it last week from a box near the rubbish bins.’ She shrugged. ‘You were throwing them out, so I figured you wouldn’t care if someone else found a use for them.’

  ‘Like what? Practising your voodoo? Making little Kat dolls that you can stick pins into?’

  Al shifted uncomfortably at my side. ‘Uh, Kat, that’s probably not –’

  I turned on him. ‘What? You don’t think stealing someone’s old clothes isn’t just a bit creepy?’

  He ran a hand down the back of his neck and glanced apologetically at Edwina. ‘Um, there’s probably a perfectly reasonable explanation if you just give her a chance.’

  I folded my arms across my chest and glared at them both. ‘Well?’

  Edwina dropped the sneaker back into the box and started throwing in the rest of the junk scattered at her front gate. Herc saw his chance, and wrenched away from me. He bin-dived into the pile and scampered off with a threadbare stripey toe sock.

  ‘I needed it for Herc,’ she said. ‘I wanted him to get used to your smell.’

  That didn’t make any sense. ‘I threw out most of this stuff weeks ago. You got Herc, like, yesterday –’

  I broke off, surprised that this could be true. Herc had been part of my life for less than two days, yet he felt like an old friend. So did Al, for that matter. They were like the missing pieces of my jigsaw, clicking into the empty spaces in my life and creating an unexpected picture of how good life could be.

  The evil witch tilted her chin, concentrating her mind-reading powers on me. ‘My friend Alan told me weeks ago that he needed to find a new home for Hercules after Christmas. It gave me plenty of time to prepare him for you.’

  ‘For me? What are you talking about? He’s your dog.’

  ‘Is he?’ She folded the top of the box closed and propped it against the front gate. ‘He’s been sleeping with this stuff for the past month. Now that he has the real thing, he doesn’t need it anymore.’

  She unlocked the gate and let herself out.

  ‘Let your dog take what he wants,’ she said, without turning back. ‘The rest is going out with tomorrow’s garbage.’

  I stormed off, leaving Herc and Al to find their own way home. I cursed my way through the rosebushes, trying to outrun the words looping endlessly through my head.

  Let your dog take what he wants, she’d said. Your dog.

  She was telling me that Herc was my dog. Not hers. Mine.

  Al and Herc kept their distance, hanging back when I stomped up the stairs and slammed my way into the house. It was probably just as well. I needed some space to get my head around what the evil witch had done.

  She must have been planning it for weeks. Planning to give me the one thing I didn’t want; the one thing I’d never wanted. The one gift she knew I’d refuse. The one gift I hated to admit I could never throw back in her face.

  Herc had won me over. With his innocent abandon, his ridiculous unfettered delight in the day. I watched him from the window. Waggling his tail, bum in the air, while he taunted Al with the stripey toe sock. Feinting left and right as Al dived after him, trying and failing to wrest the filthy scrap of material from his determined grip. The two of them were locked in a crazy tug of war that finally ended with Al grappling Herc into a bear hug, and distracting him with a tennis ball fished from his pocket. One toss and Herc’s dragonfly attention-span flitted off after it into the bushes.

  The evil witch had won this round. I owed her, and the pit in my gut told me that sooner or later she would want the debt repaid.

  I headed back downstairs to where Al was waiting on the grass. He wrestled the ball off Herc and tossed it my way. I caught it automatically, then shrieked and flipped it into the herb garden. The ball was mouldy with gloop, dripping with goober. Herc pounced on it, and sat back like a cat with a pigeon, his tail clearing a smooth patch in the dirt.

  ‘Dammit, that’s the hand I eat with.’ I wiped it on my cut-offs. ‘Way to go, Armitage. Sliming up to the neighbour, and now having a go at me –’

  ‘Whoa.’ Al raised his hands in surrender. ‘Someone’s got their cranky pants on. How about we return to our Home Alone plan to set up the bad guy?’

  I threw myself down on the grass and plucked at the ragged blades. ‘It
was a stupid idea. The only way anyone can get into our place is through the front gate and Herc has that covered. If we booby-trap the property, either Herc or Jimmy will trigger it, so what’s the point?’

  The fight drained out of me and I hugged my legs close to my chest. ‘As long as I lock up properly, nobody is going to get in.’ I glanced at Al, daring him to contradict me. ‘So there’s nothing to worry about, apart from me dying of heatstroke with all the windows closed at night. The whole thing’s been blown out of proportion.’

  Al stood, brushing off the seat of his shorts and eyeing me coolly. ‘Yeah, well, it looks like you do a bit of that.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Seems to me, you’ve blown this feud with your neighbour out of proportion. Seems to me, she’s doing a better job of looking out for you than you give her credit for –’

  ‘Seems to me, you don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I snapped. ‘Seems to me, you should mind your own business.’

  That shut him down. Colour flared in his cheeks. He walked over to his thongs and wriggled his feet into them.

  He was going. I’d driven him away.

  Al looked back, eyes stormy. ‘Kat, you should pull your claws in. I’m not your enemy, and I don’t think that woman next door is either. When you’re ready to think about any point of view apart from your own, give me a call.’ He bent down, scratched Herc’s ears and stalked off, leaving me feeling miserable and guilty on the grass.

  She’d done it again. Stolen what was mine. She’d bewitched Al. And now he was taking her side against me.

  Twenty

  Al didn’t show up at the dog park that afternoon, and the next twenty-four hours felt longer and emptier than any since he’d loped into my life.

  ‘You look as if your dog just died,’ said Nance, when I bumped into her on the bike path. ‘But Hercules appears to be in rude good health.’ He grinned up at her as he peed onto a random clump of grass. ‘Why don’t you both come home with me? I have something that might help.’

  I followed her down the street to the Californian bungalow that she said she’d been born in eighty years before. Inside, it was more like an antiques shop than a house. With wooden sideboards, waxed and polished to a mirror finish, lining all the walls. And every surface covered in porcelain figurines, oddity lamps and dozens of silver-framed photographs of weddings, children, grandchildren and, of course, dogs.

  ‘Are these all yours, Nance?’ I asked, peering at the photos.

  ‘Hmm?’ She fiddled with her hearing aid while I repeated the question. ‘Sorry, dear. I’m blind in one eye and deaf in one ear. But yes, the family’s all mine, and most of the dogs. I’ve outlived so many of the dear little things. You think you’ll never get over losing one, then along comes another to claim a special place in your heart. God’s cure for loneliness, bless them.’

  ‘This fine fellow here –’ she pulled a frame out from the back of the sideboard ‘– is coming to visit soon. He belongs to my grandson.’

  I drew back, the breath hissing out of me, my hand automatically flying to the ugly scar along my jawline. ‘I hate Dobermans.’

  She gazed at me searchingly before patting my cheek. ‘He’s very well-trained, but I’ll keep him at home when you’re at the dog park. You’re part of our little community now; there’s plenty of time to get to know Shah when you’re ready.’

  The unexpected kindness reminded me of Al, and how readily he’d befriended me. And I’d repaid him by driving him away with my bad temper. Nance pretended not to notice my distress, settling me on a hand-carved chair while she fussed about in her cosy kitchen.

  ‘There is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea,’ she quoted. ‘And cake. That makes everything better.’

  We sipped Lady Grey from fragile china cups and ate freshly baked lemon-meringue slice with dainty silver forks. Miss Cocoapuff entertained Herc, leading him in a merry dance throughout the house, which threatened the safety of the dozens of figurines.

  ‘Feeling better?’ she asked, as I scraped up the last of my slice.

  ‘Much,’ I said, parking my fork. ‘Thanks, Nance. I needed that.’

  ‘Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, dear. Remember that, and you’ll do just fine.’

  Nance insisted on taking Miss Cocoapuff to the park in the cool of the afternoon. I went too, grateful for the company. She distracted me with light-hearted gossip about which dogs would be good playmates for Herc, and which dogs hadn’t been properly socialised and should be avoided.

  ‘Their parents’ fault, of course,’ she sniffed. ‘There’s no such thing as a bad dog, only a bad owner.’

  ‘What about Napoleon? He’s supposed to be a shocker with other dogs. Does that mean Bill’s a bad owner?’

  ‘Goodness gracious, no! Bill’s done wonders with that dog. It was Napoleon’s previous owners who almost ruined him.’

  According to Nance, Napoleon had been a horribly neglected rescue pup. The RSPCA had found him half-starved and badly mauled by a pack of malnourished animals the absentee owners had kept on the property.

  ‘Poor wee mite,’ she said. ‘He took to Bill right away. Grateful, I suppose. But he’s never been quite right with other dogs ever since. Bill keeps a tight rein on him in here, so your handsome Hercules has nothing to worry about –’

  ‘Hallo, hallo, I thought my ears were burning.’

  I turned, shading my eyes against the afternoon sun. Bill had arrived, in full uniform, with Napoleon up on his hind legs looking for a pat.

  ‘He doesn’t normally like cats,’ said Nance with a mischievous smile as Napoleon nuzzled my leg. ‘He must have made an exception for you.’

  ‘He loves cats,’ Bill protested, scratching at the tiny dog’s ears. ‘He just couldn’t eat a whole one.’

  Nance laughed and cuffed him playfully, but I had more serious matters to discuss.

  ‘Have you talked to that hoodie guy yet?’ I asked.

  Bill nodded, but didn’t volunteer any further information. I squinted up at him, but couldn’t read his expression, so I slid down the bench to make room for him to sit down. He hesitated, a troubled look on his face.

  ‘Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about an ongoing investigation.’ He raised a hand to forestall the protest he saw coming. ‘But I can say this – we’re doing everything we can to find that prowler. Unfortunately his fingerprints aren’t in the database, so he doesn’t have any prior convictions. We have to face the fact that we may not find him, unless he reoffends. The best thing you can do is be rigorous with your security –’

  ‘But what about Hoodie Guy?’

  ‘Leave him alone, Kat,’ he said sharply. ‘I don’t want you anywhere near that boy.’

  ‘Why not?’ My chest tightened.

  ‘He wouldn’t welcome any approach, by you or anyone else. Just let him be, okay?’

  It was more of a demand than a question. I folded my arms, resistance stiffening every muscle in my body.

  ‘Kat.’ He leaned over the table using his bulk to reinforce his words. ‘Leave the police work to us. I don’t want you getting any ideas about confronting that boy. He’s not your problem.’

  ‘So what do you expect me to do?’ I flared. ‘Just hide in my house like some little old lady, too scared to open a window all summer?’ I glanced apologetically across the bench. ‘No offence, Nance.’

  ‘None taken, dear.’

  Bill sighed. ‘Kat, there’s no reason to believe that the prowler will come back. You left a door open – that’s an invitation for any opportunistic thief. If you keep your doors and windows locked and that barking dog close, he’ll move on to easier pickings elsewhere. Trust me on that.’

  For a brief moment I considered telling h
im about the phone call. But I hadn’t even told Jimmy, and he’d be the first person Bill would speak to. Then it would all come out. Jimmy’s absence; me home alone, night after night. I couldn’t take the risk, so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes lowered.

  Bill patted my shoulder awkwardly. ‘Look, you really don’t need to worry. The odds of him returning are pretty small. And if he does, Herc will call in the cavalry and your dad will run him off.’ He clicked his fingers for Napoleon. ‘I’m sorry, Kat, but I have to go. Stay safe and I’ll be in touch if there’s anything new to report.’

  Nance walked Bill to the gate, asking him for the name of some tick medication that he’d recommended once before. I was left alone on the bench.

  First Al, now Bill. My newfound friends were dropping like dying petals. The only one left I could rely on was Herc.

  As if on cue, he swung around and grinned at me from the other side of the park. Miss Cocoapuff was prancing around him, and he shook his head, lacing a glittering tiara of saliva across her curly brow. Then he trotted over and collapsed at my feet. Miffed at being deserted, Miss Cocoapuff daintily picked her way to Nance at the gate.

  I rubbed Herc’s speckled gut with my foot. ‘If anyone offered you bacon, you’d probably leave me too, wouldn’t you, fatso?’

  He yawned and rolled over, inviting a full massage. I sighed and gave him what he wanted. Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe he’d be too lazy to leave me. Maybe we were meant to be together. Herc and me, King and Queen of Inertia.

  I’d been quite taken with the concept when we studied it in science. It was a revelation to discover that it wasn’t just Jimmy who hated change. According to Newton’s law of motion and the principle of inertia, everything in the physical world was change-resistant: Objects at rest tend to remain at rest; objects in motion tend to remain in motion, unless acted upon by an outside force.

  Maybe it was inertia that had kept me in a holding pattern since I’d started high school, endlessly circling and never finding a place to land. Every day it kept Herc on the rug or couch for hours at a time, remaining at rest until acted upon by outside forces – like hunger or the promise of a walk.