emma and company - Sheila Hocken Page 3

  didn't take the book from me but looked at me strangely.

  'No, no, books. You know. Where you keep all your

  earnings, receipts and expenditure.'

  'Oh, booksl' I said. 'I haven't got any.' i thought I'd better

  be quite honest and open with him from the start.

  'Do you mean you haven't kept any?' he said.

  i saw total horror written all over his face and I knew he

  had the urge to pick up his briefcase and run. 'Er ... no,' i

  said. 'I don't know how to. That's why I rang you.'

  'Well, how do you know what you've earned? How do you

  know what you've spent? What about tax?'

  'Er ... yes,' i said. 'I have a rough idea.'

  'A rough idea's no good.' He began to mop his brow with a

  handkerchief.

  'I'm sure i can find out,' i assured him, trying to stop him

  leaving. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

  'Yes, i think I'd better.'

  i was just beginning to reassure him that i could find out

  what I'd earned and more or less had an idea of what I'd

  spent when Hera came in. Hera is one of my Siamese cats - a

  25

  i

  very beautiful Long Sveldt Redpoint, a champion in fact.

  She walked round the lounge carrying her tail high in the air,

  giving little purring noises. Siamese cats tend to be a little bit

  like Labradors and perhaps that's why I'm very fond of them

  both. They are very dog-like creatures. They're also terrible

  scavengers. Unbeknown to me, Hera had been on the

  scavenge. Now don't get me wrong. Siamese don't have

  delicate stomachs, but then I'm sure something would be

  wrong with my stomach if I'd eaten two used tea bags, a

  polythene wrapper, half a fish paper and a few tin-foil milk

  bottle tops. Well, i guessed that's what she'd eaten.... She

  decided to sit on the settee next to Mr Summers. i wouldn't

  say he disliked animals - before he came to visit me - but he

  wasn't very fond of Siamese cats, especially when one kept

  trying to poke papers out of his briefcase. i could see he was

  gradually sliding a little bit further up the settee when,

  suddenly, Hera sat bolt upright and was terribly sick all over

  him. I've never seen such a big man move so fast. With one

  leap he was oil the settee and at the other side of the room,

  standing there with his hands in the air, looking down at his

  suit, not quite knowing what to do. i had to sponge him down

  with very strong smelling disinfectant and promise to put the

  cat out, before he'd continue with the paperwork.

  Needless to say, Mr Summers declined to visit me again,

  especially when he heard I'd acquired two more Labradors Buttons

  and Bracken. Big dogs don't like me, he informed

  me, and would i mind going to see him? i could understand

  it, especially when Bracken was a puppy because anything

  that didn't move out of the way quickly enough was chewed.

  i seem to be painting a very black - or should I say chocolate

  brown? - picture of Bracken, but really it's not true. He has

  been very wicked in his time but he's also done lots of really

  lovely things and i certainly wouldn't have been without

  him. i think (not including Emma, of course, because i

  really do never include Emma when i talk about dogs)

  Bracken is probably the most intelligent dog I've ever met

  and certainly the most expressive. He can change his face

  from looking totally miserable to grinning all over in half a

  26

  i

  second. One of his best expressions, though, is his guilty

  look. He seems to look at me from hooded eyes and cars

  placed back. i call this his Rose Petal Look because his ears

  curl round like rose petals. It was an expression i saw a lot of,

  especially when Kerensa was a toddler. It's amazing how

  one toddler and two chocolate Labradors can conspire to do

  so much damage between them, and Bracken would be the

  ring-leader. i was sitting in the lounge one day, thinking that

  Kerensa was happily playing in the kitchen, when Bracken

  came strolling in with that rose petal expression. 'Who me?

  No, never!' His face spoke volumes. i knew something had

  happened. i ran into the kitchen as fast as i could, to see the

  fridge totally empty, plastic bowls and empty packets

  littering the kitchen floor, Kerensa giggling happily away

  and Buttons finishing off the last half-pound of best butter.

  Bracken, by the expression on his face, had obviously

  thoroughly enjoyed the pound of lamb chops, bowl of Angel

  Delight, two pounds of lard and half a pound of sausages.

  Who do you blame in a situation like that? Kerensa for

  opening the fridge door? The dogs inciting her to do it, or

  eating what she gave to them? The only thing was to sit and

  have a good laugh about it. i was alwa.~'s amazed at a twoyear-

  old having such ingenuity when it came to getting what

  she wanted out of the dogs. She couldn't reach the kitchen

  work surfaces or the drawers where the knives and forks were

  kept, but she could if she made Buttons lie on the floor so she

  could climb on top of her. And that's what I'd find her doing:

  a large wooden spoon in her hand, two pounds of sugar and a

  packet of soap powder mixed evenly along the work tops, the

  floor and all over Buttons'coat. Still, i have got used to living

  in this sort of total chaos and it doesn't worry me any more.

  Kerensa loves animals. It's a good job or she'd have

  probably been the first t",o-year-old c-,-er to run away from

  home. She always wants to be involved with the cats and

  dogs, asking to help feed them, or brush them, or train them.

  i have tried to involve Kerensa with the animals, to let her

  help me, because it makes her feel needed. She's an only

  child and having all those dogs about her might tend to make

  27

  her think she's one too. In fact, it probably did when she was

  younger. I'd let her help me carry the food bowls down to the

  cats - until i discovered that she was pinching great lumps of

  Whiskas and raw liver before the cats ate it. And there was a

  point when no dog bowl with water in could be left down on

  the floor because Kerensa would be found on all fours licking

  out of it. Despite all this, Kerensa is the healthiest little girl i

  have ever seen. And as for helping to train the dogs, well that

  nearly created even more problems. But we solved it when

  we found a stuffed dog on wheels. His name is Bicky; he looks

  a bit like a yellow Labrador and is guaranteed never to run

  off

  , Mummy, i want a proper collar and lead for Bicky,'

  Kerensa announced one day as Don and i were in the

  kitchen having a cup of tea.

  'Oh, yes. What for?'

  'To train him, of course,' she said indignantly.

  i handed her a piece of string out of the kitchen drawer.

  'No, no!' she shrieked. 'I don't want that. i want a proper

  collar and lead!'

  She settled for nothing less than a choke chain, put on the

  correct way, and a long training lead. Don and i watched as

/>   she led Bicky into the garden. She stood him on her left-hand

  side, took the lead in her right hand and said, 'Heel, Bicky.'

  She marched up the garden saying, 'Good dog. Heel. Come

  here, Bicky. You bad dog. Sit!' (Bicky, needless to say,

  ignored this command.) 'Stay!' she boomed up the garden.

  Still holding the lead, she walked away from him, turned and

  stood to face her stuffed dog on wheels. 'Bicky ... come!'She

  gave such a violent jerk to the lead that Bicky rolled up the

  garden at about twenty miles-an-hour and bowled her over.

  She picked herself up ofl the floor and smacked him. 'You

  bad dog!' she said. After giving him a thorough going over

  she came into the kitchen.

  'Daddy, Bicky won't sit down.'

  Don looked at me as if to find a suitably convincing

  answer. Then inspiration struck. 'He's a bit stifr in his back

  legs,' he said. 'He's getting on, you know. He might not like

  28

  to sit down. Just let him stand up when you do the stays, will

  you?'

  'Mm, yes, all right then, i suppose I'll have to.' Off she

  marched to do some more heel work. i was beginning to

  think that Barbara Woodhouse had nothing on Kerensa's

  thunderous commands.

  i

  i

  29

  i

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHENEVER DON AND i get an invitation to go up to

  Yorkshire, we accept. Not only is it beautiful to look at, but

  the people are so warm and friendly. i think i must have

  some Yorkshire blood in me because i always feel at home

  there. If i were going to leave Nottinghamshire, then it

  would only be for Yorkshire. So when i received an

  invitation to appear on a chat show in Yorkshire, of course i

  accepted.

  'Oh great!' Don said, when he saw the invitation. 'We

  could meet Harold and Betty up there. It's quite near them.

  Haven't you a book signing in Hull?'

  'Yes, that's right,' i told him. 'They can show us where the

  book shop is.'

  Harold and Betty live in a little village called Brough, just

  outside Hull.

  'I'll give them a ring and see if they'll meet us up there.'

  It was arranged that Harold and Betty would meet us in

  Hull. We'd do the television programme first and then go on

  to the book signing. Emma, by this time, was far too old to be

  dragged about in cars and in and out of television and radio

  studios, so Bracken was voted as her understudy. A good job

  he made of it too ... most of the time. Getting Kerensa a

  baby-sitter also meant getting a dog-sitter for Emma so that

  Don and i and Bracken could go off up into Yorkshire. The

  television show was live, with an audience. i like doing chat

  shows with an audience because a camera is so cold to work

  to. If you think you've made a joke the camera won't laugh,

  but i can tell from the reaction of an audience whether it was

  funny or not.

  We had a cosy little set in front of the audience: a round

  settee and table with a bowl of flowers (the microphone was

  30

  hidden in the flowers) on a beautiful sheepskin rug, which

  really set the scene. i was to walk on with Bracken and sit

  down next to the interviewer, Shelley Rhodes. I'd met her

  years before when she'd worked for a newspaper and had

  come down to see me after my operation to write a piece

  about my miracle, so i felt even more at home than ever.

  Bracken was going to enjoy himself, i could tell that from

  the look on his face as soon as i sat down next to Shelley.

  He surveyed the audience carefully and weighed the

  cameras up. He gets an expression in his eyes that i know

  means: This could be a terrible bore, but don't worry I'll

  think of something. It's fascinating to me to be able to look

  into eyes and see expressions and different colours. i never

  realized how eyes and their expression and colour could

  give a character to someone's face, either human or dog. i

  can often judge a dog's temperament just by looking at its

  eyes, especially the colour. Emma has very dark, brown,

  soft, trusting eyes. Bracken has eyes the colour of a ripe

  pear. Buttons, who, in my opinion, is rather uncharacteristic

  of a Labrador, has cold, gold eyes. In a dog, that

  always denotes to me that it can be quite nasty, not to be

  trusted, probably scheming. All those things Buttons can

  lay claim to. Of course, she's perfectly all right with the

  family, particularly Kerensa, but when strangers are about,

  you can't trust her.

  'You haven't brought Emma with you,' Shelley began the

  interview. 'This is Bracken, is it?'

  Bracken looked at her, put his ears back in that rose petal

  expression of his and grinned. We tried to get on with the

  interview but Bracken had spotted the microphone hidden

  in a flower. He pushed his nose in and began to rootle into

  the flower bowl. i could imagine the sort of snuffling,

  banging noises that everyone was hearing and tried to drag

  him out without looking as if i was using force, which was a

  bit difficult because Bracken is rather heavy. i could see a

  man wearing headphones at the other end of the studio

  jumping up and down waving his arms.

  'And then what happened?' Shelley asked me.

  3i

  ~ i

  Then what happened? i thought. What have i just said?

  Goodness me, i had to think hard. It was difficult to

  concentrate on answering questions, and on a camera, an

  audience and Bracken. At long last, i managed to get him

  away from the flower vase, a few yellow petals from the

  chrysanthemums still clinging to his nose. He lay down on

  the rug ~ind i turned my full attention to the interview.

  'And is Emma still healthy, Shella? How old is she now

  i was just about to tell Shelley that she was well and

  happy, when the audience began to laugh. What had i done?

  i hadn't made a joke. i looked round to see two dear old

  ladies on the front row almost doubled up with laughter. It

  was bound to be Bracken. It was Bracken. He had a mouth

  full of sheepskin rug and he was trying to drag it oilwith him.

  i was pretty sure he wouldn't succeed because Shelley and i

  were sitting on it but the noises he was making, the barks and

  muffled growls of threats to kill, were enough to make

  anybodylaugh.

  'Er ... where was i? Yes,' i said to Shelley. i knew the

  answer must be yes or no but i couldn't remember what it

  was. By this time Shelley was laughing as well.

  ' Bracken, leave it,' i whispered. i tried to prise him offthe

  rug but the more i pulled, the more vehement he became

  that he was going to get the better of this thing, whatever it

  was. There was only a very short time for the interview and

  needless to say it came to an end before i had a chance to say

  much at all, but the audience enjoyed it. i hope the people at

  home could see what was happening. Luckily for me, the end

  of my interview marked a commercial break so i was able tor />
  drag Bracken ofr the rug - no easy feat i can tell you - which

  was a little soggy and minus a few tufts of wool. Bracken

  walked reluctantly off the set, cars drooping, a sulky

  expression on his face and dragging his back feet along

  behind him. Don was still laughing when we walked out of

  the studio.

  'Well, petal, i don't think you did your book any good.

  You didn't say much about it at all, did you? But the

  audience enjoyed it and Bracken certainly did. We'd better

  32

  hurry up, we're meeting Harold and Betty soon. i don't

  think there's much more mischief Bracken can get up to

  today.'

  He was wrong ...

  Harold and Betty were waiting for us at the car park in

  Hull. They are always early. So prompt. i wish i could

  manage to do that. i seem to live in a chaos of being late.

  'It's not far from here,' Harold said, after the usual

  greetings. 'You can take the car round if you like, Don.'

  'Oh no, let's walk,' I said. 'It'll be much nicer and it will

  give Bracken a bit of exercise.'

  Betty immediately fell in behind with Don and Harold

  took my arm. He knew i could see but he always felt the need

  to look after me. 'There's a kerb here, Sheila. One step down,

  just a little one.'

  i looked at him and smiled. 'Yes, Harold.' We walked

  across the road.

  'Oh, mind that post. Come this way.'

  'It's all right, Harold. Honestly.'

  'Oh, I keep forgetting,' he said. 'I always want to look

  after you.'

  'I don't mind, Harold. It's very kind of you.'

  But hejust couldn't help himself. Hejust went on telling

  me when we reached the kerbs, whether they were up or

  down, taking me round posts, stopping when people were in

  the way and however much i insisted i could see, he

  wouldn't have it. He just chuckled at me and said he liked

  doing it. It reminded me of the time we went on holiday with

  Harold and Betty. We were in Cornwall - before i could see,

  that is - and Harold and Don decided that they'd like lobster

  for dinner. I'd never had it before.

  'You'll love it,' Harold kept telling me. 'You really will.