‘I don’t know,’ said Greg. ‘But, look, George and Bob both got their stuff back with silly notes. Maybe that will happen with the dogs.’
‘Even you don’t sound convinced, Greg,’ said Billy. ‘That was before your tyres were slashed and Marlena was hurt. And this just feels nasty.’
‘OK, OK, you’re probably right,’ said Greg. ‘I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but it probably is one for the bogeys. You should report the dogs missing.’
‘Right, yes.’
George looked bemused more than anything. Billy’s brain was racing, yet he couldn’t think clearly.
‘Where do you go to report missing dogs round here?’ Billy asked. ‘I know there’s no police station in Covent Garden any more. Do we just phone?’
‘I think we should go round, do it in person,’ said Greg. ‘Come on, Charing Cross is the nearest. Let’s get a cab.’
‘Hang about,’ said George. ‘Shouldn’t one of us stay here in case either of the dogs does turn up?’
‘Yes, good idea,’ responded Greg. ‘Look, why don’t you two go together? The station’s in Agar Street, just off the Strand. You should both go there to report what’s happened. The cops may want to ask questions about your dogs that I couldn’t answer. Don’t worry, I’ll stay here.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked George. ‘I mean, you’ve always got things to do...’
I certainly have, thought Greg, and neither of you two would be likely to guess what sort of things, thank God. But all he said was: ‘I won’t budge till I hear from you or you get back, I promise.’
George still hesitated.
‘What about Michelle?’ he asked. ‘Mightn’t she be able to help?’
Greg shook his head. ‘Not today,’ he said. ‘She’s away on some course. Fonz told me yesterday. He’d hoped she might help with Marlena.’
‘Right,’ said George, still not moving.
‘Go on, the pair of you, for Christ’s sake,’ said Greg.
He lit another cigarette as he watched the other two men make their way across the park to the gate on the lower west corner of the Fields. It was obvious from their body language how distressed they were. Funny what dogs can do to you, Greg mused. Big tough guys like Tiny, smooth operators like Billy, flash sarcastic bastards like George, even hard men like him — though he didn’t feel that hard at the moment.
Dogs turned you to effing mush. That’s what dogs did. And you never saw it coming.
Both Tiny and George were adamant their dogs wouldn’t stray, but Greg reckoned where dogs were concerned there were exceptions to every rule. Years of dog ownership had taught him that there were two phrases a dog owner should never use: ‘my dog never...’ and ‘my dog always...’
This, however, was different. Two dogs going missing from the same park within a few hours of each other didn’t sound coincidental. Especially after the events of the last few weeks. The dogs might yet be safely returned, but all the friends must be on edge now. No doubt about that. Greg was certainly on edge. His own situation was a particular one though, and he wasn’t sure how it tied in with whatever else might be happening. Unlike the other Sunday Clubbers who’d fallen victim, he had a shrewd idea who was responsible for what had happened to his tyres. And he didn’t see how it could have anything to do with the pranks played on George and Bob, Marlena being injured, or the disappearance of the two dogs.
Meanwhile, Karen was at home with their Westies. Greg had a sudden overwhelming desire to make sure she was all right. So he called her. And once he was sure she and their dogs were safe, he told her about Daisy and Chump going missing.
‘That’s awful,’ responded Karen. ‘What do you think’s happened to the poor little things?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Greg.
‘But it must be linked, there can’t be any doubt about that, can there?’
Greg tried to sound positive. ‘Look, all that matters to me is that my family’s OK. And don’t you worry, darling, I’ll make damned sure of that.’
‘I know you will,’ said Karen in a small voice.
‘Too damned right,’ said Greg.
‘But what do I do about our dogs?’ asked Karen. ‘They’ll need to go out again soon.’
Greg cursed. He’d pledged to look after his own family but he hadn’t thought about that when he’d promised the boys he’d stay in the park either until their return or until one or other of the dogs showed up.
He explained that to Karen, with apologies.
‘I’m really sorry, babe, I feel I should be rushing home to take our two out, but you’ll be fine as long as you keep them on a lead. And don’t bring them to Lincoln’s Inn. I know I’m here, but even so. Keep to the main drag — don’t go down any of the alleyways. Go somewhere that’s always busy: Russell Square, maybe. And if anything worries you, anything at all, call me.’
‘I will,’ said Karen. ‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll be fine. And you’re dead right to help those poor boys.’
Greg ended the call and checked his watch. There was something he had to do later on. Someone he needed to see. But that person didn’t keep office hours. There was no need to start fretting at four in the afternoon. The boys were sure to have returned long before he needed to make a move, and even they would probably agree there was no point waiting in the park much longer. In any case, the gates would be locked once it got dark.
Greg sat on a park bench by the tennis courts, lit yet another cigarette and drew deeply. It was when he was under stress that he most felt not just the desire but the need to smoke. And this was a moment of stress all right.
He leaned back on the cold hard seat. Things were happening that he did not entirely understand. Nothing seemed right somehow. Events were taking a sinister turn. His life was going pear-shaped. He needed to figure out a way to get everything back on track again, and soon.
Tiny had collected Marlena from hospital at about the same time Billy had arrived at the park. He didn’t tell her about Daisy, not at first. Marlena dog-sat for them whenever they needed a minder for Daisy, and took the little dog in when the boys went on holiday, to spare her having to go into kennels. She would be devastated to hear what had happened. And Tiny could see she was in enough distress already. He might fit the stereotype of the big brash bouncer, but Tiny had a very gentle side to him. He understood instinctively what it was like for a woman of Marlena’s age to have been injured like that. Although she was putting on a brave face, as ever, Marlena had to be eaten up with anxiety about the extent of her injury, her chances of making a full recovery, whether she’d ever be able to walk about on her own again. Losing her independence would be Marlena’s worst nightmare. And top of everything else, she was in pain. Tiny could see that too.
An orderly wheeled Marlena out of the hospital, Tiny alongside the chair, fussing. Once outside, the orderly helped load Marlena into the taxi Tiny hailed.
In the back of the cab Marlena clutched Tiny’s arm with a bony hand.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without my friends, particularly you and Alfonso.’
‘You’re most welcome, Marlena,’ said Tiny. ‘Though I gather from the Fonz that you initially said you didn’t want or need help from anyone.’
Marlena smiled weakly. ‘I think I may not have quite thought things through,’ she said.
Tiny saw then that the hand clutching his arm was shaking. As if aware that he had noticed, Marlena suddenly withdrew her hand and held it, fingers clenched, by her side.
Tiny put a big arm around her. ‘Don’t you worry, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I’ll look after you.’