Denise looked at Tom. ‘This bloke came into the clinic who’s done his hamstring. He said he saw your dog up near Walhalla.’
‘That’s miles away!’ But hope sprang open instantly within Tom. ‘When was this?’
‘This morning. Oh-when did he see the dog? Sunday, I think. I gave him one of your flyers so he could call you.’ Denise was digging in the back pocket of her jeans; embroidered white cotton tightened over her breasts.
‘Here you go.’ She handed Tom a Post-it. ‘I got his number, in case.’ He had his phone out. ‘Thanks. I’ll take this up to the top
of the hill.’ ‘You’re welcome to call from the farm if it’s easier.’ ‘No, it’s fine. Thanks. Thanks.’
No messages. He called his landline. Nothing. He sat on his heels in the grass beside the track. Two
magpies swooped low, a third began to sing. A long, greenish beetle lifted one antenna, toiling past Tom’s foot while somewhere a phone rang and rang.
‘Hello?’ He said, ‘Could I speak to Trevor, please? My name’s Loxley.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Tom Loxley. I think Trevor saw my dog. Is he there?’ He could hear her breathing while she thought it over.
Then she shouted, ‘Trev, you there? Trev?’ There were voices; indistinct. Tom pictured the receiver,
held against her breast. A man said, ‘Yeah, g’day?’ Tom explained. ‘Yeah, sorry mate, I was gunna call, but the day got away?’ In the background, the woman said something. Trev said
something. Tom cried, ‘You’re breaking up.’ ‘What?’ ‘I didn’t catch what you said.’ ‘Listen, mate, I dunno-’
The woman said, ‘It’s me. Shirl? What he’s trying to say, love, it wasn’t your dog.’
After a moment, Tom said, ‘Are you sure?’
‘I was the one spotted him, love. By the side of this track coupla hundred yards this side of Walhalla? Cute little tyke.’
‘Little.’
‘Yeah, little curly white fella, got a bit of that Malteser in him, I reckon? I didn’t get a real good look. Took off into the bush when I slowed down. Like he just vanished?’
‘So he definitely wasn’t…’
‘No, love. Nothing like, except they’re both white. Trev just remembered I said I’d seen a white dog.’
‘Right. OK.’
‘Sorry, love.’
The women’s faces were turned to the bend in the track. Tom saw the light go out of them at the sight of his own.
When he explained, Denise said, ‘That Trevor Opie. Might’ve known-guy’s a dickhead.’
‘At least we haven’t wasted much time. Back to Plan A.’
Tom understood that Nelly’s briskness wasn’t directed at him alone; that one of the people she was trying to rally was herself. All the same, it set his teeth on edge.
She was saying, ‘Nees says she’ll come with us. Help us search the farm.’
Nees! Unreasonably, that grated too.
‘Thanks, Denise. But to be honest, the last thing I feel like doing right now is traipsing around a whole lot of paddocks.’ Tom said, ‘We could look over the farm tomorrow morning if you like. But let’s face it, the whole thing’s a waste of time, really.’
He saw the two of them exchange glances; adults dealing with a fractious child.
Nelly said, ‘It’s just-’ She gestured skywards. ‘This weather.’
‘Yeah, you’ve already made that point. Three weeks without food, three days without water. Wasn’t that how it went?’
Nelly started to say something. He cut across her, keeping his tone very level. ‘Just think it through. If the rope got caught up in some undergrowth, he’s been trapped in one spot for nine days without food. If he’s still alive, he’s already gone twenty-four hours without water. So if we’re looking anywhere, it’s got to be in the bush. Where you know as well as I do, we’ll never fi nd him.’
‘But the thing is to act like we will. And to try everything we can think of. Like he might’ve got free at some point. Headed for the farm looking for food and collapsed there.’
‘Yeah, he might have. And he might have been picked up by someone who dumped him on the freeway, or used him as target practice, or took him home as an early Christmas present for the kiddies. Or he might have been bitten by a snake, or a fox might have waited till he was weak enough and finished him off. We can imagine whatever we like. But believing we’ll find him out there is just deluded.’
‘It’s not, it’s hoping. It’s not like giving up’s going to get us anywhere.’
Sweaty and furious, the two of them glared at each other.
Afterwards, they wouldn’t be able to agree on what Denise said. She was looking past them, at the path climbing to the ridge. When she spoke, Tom turned his head. A dog had appeared in the distance, small against the sky.
‘Nearest vet’s Traralgon.’ Denise glanced at her watch. ‘You’ll just make it before he closes. I’ll call and let them know you’re on your way.’
Tom said, ‘The house-’
‘Leave everything. I’ll lock up and that. Just grab what you need and go.’ She was turning away, heading downhill towards the farm.
Nelly was already running in the opposite direction. Tom gathered up the dog and followed.
As the car approached the farm, Denise came racing out of the gate. She thrust a bag through Nelly’s window. ‘Thermos. Only instant but I figured it was better than nothing. Hope you take milk and sugar.’
‘Denise, you’re a goddess.’
‘There’s some honey there as well. Feed him honey,’ shouted Denise.
Nelly leaned out, waving. The dog was a sack of dull fur on a doona spread over the back seat. In the mirror, Denise stood with her wrists on her hips, watching them go.
‘Getting a bit old for this kind of caper, aren’t you fella?’ The vet’s long nose was blunt at the tip, as if someone had placed a finger there and pushed. He tickled the dog’s chest; examined the gash on his foreleg, the shallower slits above. ‘Rope cuts.
Every time he tugged on it, the rope would’ve twisted tighter around his leg. See how it’s just starting to scab over? I reckon he got free sometime in the last twenty-four hours.’
When Tom put his arms around him, the dog squirmed and struggled. His claws scrabbled on the table. An unbearably light bundle, he hated being carried. He had lost eight kilos, a third of his weight. His hips were angle brackets coated with fur.
‘He’ll need plenty of sleep, plenty of good tucker. Small amounts: four, five meals a day. No meat to begin with and introduce it gradually. Wouldn’t do any harm to have your regular vet check him out in the next few days.’
‘You know, in a way he looks pretty good,’ said Nelly. ‘Look how bright his eyes are.’
‘That’s how fasting works. The toxins go, along with the fat. But I wouldn’t like to say how much more he could’ve taken. You found him pretty much just in time, I reckon.’
‘It was the other way round,’ said Tom. ‘He found us.’
The dog licked honey from Nelly’s fingers. In the waiting room, he strained at a cage of snow-bellied kittens.
On the far side of the clipped pittosporums that separated the clinic from the street, an invisible woman said, ‘She’s good-looking in that really obvious way. You know?’
Tom put his hand over his ear. ‘What?’
In the city, Iris cried, ‘You’re not coming tonight?’
‘Ma, I’m still at the vet’s, it’s hours away-’ Tom broke off. ‘Not tonight. We’ll have dinner tomorrow, OK?’
‘What?’
‘Dinner tomorrow!’
‘All right.’
He said, ‘Ma, do you understand? He’s very thin, but he’s basically OK.’
‘I know.’ Iris had greeted the news with the same calm. ‘It’s a miracle. Saint Anthony never fails.’
‘What I don’t get is, if the rope got twisted around something and he chewed through it, or if it wore through somehow, why wasn’t the end of it still tied to his collar?’
‘Because the knot worked loose,’ said Nelly.