One Last War, page 31
Tilly, judging the moment right, rejoiced with, ‘And we are getting a dog!’ She knelt by the children and gently took the phone from her children. She quickly typed in a search term, pressed a few buttons and passed it back to Carl, ‘Or rather you are, here is the Bravehound application form, I expect it to be filled out and sent before bedtime.’
The children couldn’t contain their excitement any more and wildly ran around the room, shouting out their preferred choice of dog for all to hear. Lewis winked at them as they passed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carl found himself warming to Neil as they went from room to room, loft and cellar crawlspace included. Neil was the local carpenter who his father had arranged to come over to his house at nine in the morning. He’d arrived punctually and even had the stereotypical small stub of a pencil tucked behind his ear. He used it to scribble his measurements down in a small notepad, his fingers had a dull orange tinge from years of smoking roll ups. ‘I’m a former infantryman myself,’ he revealed to Carl. ‘I went out in the tail end of Afghanistan, it was a bit quieter then, but still eventful. I get why you need the soundproofing. I live in a steading, so have no neighbours. It was rundown mind, it took me years to do it up, in-between jobs. I’ll soon stop that idiot from disturbing your peace. We’ll build a false partition on every inch of wall between you both and pack it full of insulation which is designed to absorb sound. No need to worry about the cost, I’ll do your father a good price. He’s already given me a deposit, so I can start as early as next month.’ He looked to Carl, making sure that he heard this bit of advice, ‘It’ll be noisy mind. Especially my nail gun. You may want to be away during the day.’
Carl thought about the package that arrived that morning, about an hour ago, that he hadn’t quite had time to unwrap. He’d been busy getting the children ready for school. ‘No need to worry, Help for Heroes sent me some noise cancelling headphones, I’ll just slip them on before you get to work. Do you need me to do anything special, other than move the furniture out of the way?’
Neil grinned, ‘Well, your mother always had the kettle on and baked me these wonderful biscuits!’
The gentle twittering of the sparrows as they casually sat on nearby trees or swooped down to feed on the fat-balls was lost to Carl. He was wearing his new noise cancelling headphones and was blissfully listening to the latest instalment of The Big Finish podcast and making a mental note to download their new Doctor Who release. He could listen to it when he went for a walk. He was also unaware that behind him, his neighbour had taken a hammer and thumped more dents into a battered wheelie bin lid.
Carl leaned back and relaxed into the back of the arbour, stretched out his feet and looked at the empty bench to his right, imagining a dog curled up alongside him, having its tummy rubbed. He smiled. He couldn’t wait to hear from Bravehound. He had asked for a large dog on his application form.
As if reading his mind, a dialling ringtone interrupted his podcast and sounded in his ears. His headphones had cleverly paused the podcast. He remembered the instructions and gave his right headphone two taps. ‘Hello,’ he hesitantly said, ‘Can you hear me okay? I’m using my new headphones; they have a built-in microphone.’
‘Oh, that’s clever!’ said a saucy, cheery voice, in a thick Glaswegian accent. ‘I’m Franny, from Bravehound. Is this Carl?’
‘Yes, this is Carl. Lovely to hear from you Franny. Did you get my application form okay?’
‘Yes, that’s why I’m ringing. We’ve sent off the letters to your GP and psychologist to verify your condition and another to the MOD, to confirm your service, thank you for ticking the box giving us permission, that speeds up the process. We are in Aberdeen next week, visiting a Bravehound and her veteran, it’s a routine check-in that we do, about twice a year. We wondered if we could drop in past while we are in your area, have a chat, meet your family and go around your home and garden, just to make sure that it is dog friendly.’
‘That would be fine, I don’t have a piece of paper to hand, I’m in the garden.’
‘Not to worry, I’ll get our administrator to send the time and date by e-mail. She manages my diary, I’m rather forgetful these days.’
‘Do I need to do anything for you?’
‘No, don’t you worry, just as you are, we don’t stand on ceremony at Bravehound. Perhaps a cup of tea and a sit down.’
‘That’s no problem, I look forward to seeing you.’
‘Bye then Carl, I’m looking forward to meeting you and welcoming you to the Bravehound family.’
Carl grinned and looked down at the arbour bench as the phone disconnected and his headphones cleverly recommenced playing the exact clip that he’d been listening too. The Daleks were screaming ‘Exterminate!’ just as the railings were rattled. This deliberate goading noise was lost to Carl as he watched the birds darting between his feeders and bird-bath. A starling was dipping in and out of the water and shaking its feathers dry between baths. He was in, he had been accepted, he had not been turned away from them like the other military charities had done to him, making him feel that his long service had not been deemed worthy enough. He’d soon be getting a dog. He couldn’t wait for the children to get home and share in the good news. He wondered if the local bird population would mind sharing their garden with a four-legged friend with a wagging tail.
Simon stared with venom at Carl from his kitchen window. He fumed, hopping from foot to foot, like a penguin on hot coals, in a nervous need to expunge his built-up rage. He stared at the much-hated figure sat in the arbour next door. The man hadn’t jumped at any of the loud noises that he’d made, nor reacted to the booming rattle of the railings. He looked puzzled, but was determined to get a response, he had to make this man move from that house. He always got his way, in the end, always, he thought.
Carl walked back to the front garden and was about to open his front door when a furtive movement to his right caught his eye. His sixth sense, honed by years of undercover and surveillance work in the military, alerted him to the sight of his elderly neighbour, Simon, shuffling fast to his metal garden gate, opening it wide, and slamming it home. No sound penetrated Carl’s protective headphones, only the reassuring sound of Nicholas Briggs talking about his The Prisoner series of audio dramas. Carl laughed, especially at the sight of Simon running back to the safety of his house, scurrying in like a naughty schoolboy. His short legs were peddling fast, like a comical cartoon character. Simon darted into his house; ramming closed his front door.
Carl walked over to the adjoining garden wall, looked up at the CCTV cameras, chose the second one along the eaves, smiled, waved, and pointed to his headphones. He then turned and strode confidently into his house, a home once more.
One week later, Simon was stood at his lounge window, staring intently at two women in a large car that had the audacity to park outside his house, just inches from the dropped kerb that led to his driveway. He ran out of his house, up his driveway and onto the pavement just as they were exiting their vehicle. He walked over, staring from the kerb and then to the two strangers.
‘Hello!’ said the taller of the two in a joyful Glaswegian accent, ‘Isn’t it a lovely morning.’ She turned and followed her friend who was already halfway down Carl’s path. She failed to see Simon lift his hand and throw his middle finger defiantly up in the air in an unpleasant salute.
Simon ran back to his driveway and then climbed his two concrete steps to his front door, turned and stared at the strangers, as if he were a guard of honour welcoming a visiting dignitary. Only his demeanour was anything other than hospitable.
The other woman gave him a friendly wave and was not at all puzzled as to why this old man was staring at them and watching their every move. Under her breath she said to her pal, ‘That will be the awful neighbour that you told me about, from Carl’s application. The poor lad has enough on his plate without that moron adding to it. Still, he looks old, maybe he’ll do the world a favour and croak it soon.’
Her mate laughed, loud enough for Simon to hear. This time they both saw the raised middle finger. Rather than looking shocked, she turned to her pal and remarked in a voice that she hoped would carry across the low wall, ‘That’s probably the only stiffy he gets these days!’
She got the reaction she wanted, Simon looked furious, more so when the duo burst out into fresh laughter whilst staring back at him.
The taller woman turned and rang Carl’s doorbell, it was answered straight away by a beefcake of a man wearing headphones. ‘Carl? Hi, I am Nancy, and this is Franny, from Bravehound. Shall we come in?’
‘Of course, come away in, it’s lovely to meet you both.’
‘You can hear us okay? Only you’ve headphones on.’ Nancy pointed to Carl’s head to emphasise her concern.
‘Ah, sorry, I have to wear them,’ explained Carl. ‘I’ve an unkind neighbour who makes lots of deliberate noises. They are switched to ambient sound. Though I will take them off, he never makes any noises when we’ve visitors, like my parents or sister. He has us under surveillance.’
‘We can see that, he followed us from the pavement and down his path and then stood on the doorstep, staring.’
‘Yes, he does that, though the surveillance is also from his CCTV. When you are next out, look up to his eaves, there are more cameras there than in a supermarket.’
‘We read what you wrote about him in your application form. We can believe it all now. How awful for you,’ offered Franny.
‘Not to worry, these new headphones have been a Godsend. I hear nothing now, more so since the GP upped my medication. Between nightmares, I sleep like a baby.’ Carl pointed thorough to the lounge, ‘Come away in and get comfy. Before the medicines I would be woken up by loud bangs of him slamming home doors. My heart would be racing for hours. I slept little.’
‘It’s an awful thing to put you through, what a horrible, bitter old man. I see from your application form that you are on the highest dose of Pregabalin, is it helping?’
Carl sat down on his favourite chair whilst Franny and Nancy sat on the sofa, a look of consternation crossed his face, ‘A bit. I’m undergoing EMDR with a psychologist, so I’m all over the place, reliving things I’d rather keep in a box, hidden away in my brain.’ He looked over his shoulder, making sure that Tilly had not come in early with the children from school. ‘I’m getting intense flashbacks as she makes me recall events that I’ve buried deep in my mind.’
The duo nodded and Franny said, ‘Many of our veterans find the reassuring presence of a dog breaks the patterns of flashbacks. We train them to cuddle on that command. The large dogs reach out on two legs and put their front paws on the veteran’s shoulders and hold on tight. The warm feeling can be comforting.’
Carl nodded, ‘I miss my cuddles with my old dog.’ He fought back tears from a sudden rush of emotions and pointed to the table, ‘I made you some flapjacks, with chocolate chips and dates. Help yourself. I’ll bring through a pot of tea,’ he managed to say.
The two women made appreciative noises and tucked in, discretely leaving Carl to get a check on his tears. They were well used to helping veterans with PTSD at extremes of emotions.
Carl left the room and returned with a tray and was soon passing mugs to them and chatting away. ‘Did you both set up the charity?’
‘No,’ replied Nancy between mouthfuls of a flapjack. ‘I’m a dog trainer and I socialise a puppy. Fiona set up the charity, she is a lovely woman, so dedicated to the care of our veterans. She’s at a meeting today; but sends her good wishes.’
‘I oversee the welfare of our dogs and veterans, so you’ll see me quite often,’ remarked Franny. ‘You’ve joined the family of Bravehound, so you can ring me at any time with any problems or issues. Not just about the dog. For instance, I can help you with hospital appointments by coming with you if you find going places difficult or help with finances.’
Carl pointed to the blue plasterboard on the adjoining wall, ‘I may take you up on the finance check help, we’ve had to use our savings and my parents and sister’s financial help in soundproofing our house from top to bottom. There is a foot of soundproofing material on that wall and all the others from the top of the house through to the bottom.’
‘The noises were that bad?’ asked an incredulous Nancy.
‘I’m afraid so, the carpenter even soundproofed against the cellar and loft walls. It’s helped a lot but took all our money.’ He pointed at the plate of lightly golden flapjacks, ‘Though I’ve started a new venture as a recipe writer online.’
Franny helped herself to another one, ‘I’m sure it’ll be a success, these are rather moreish. I will just finish this, and we will get down to business. Perhaps you can tell Carl all about Ruby.’
Nancy smiled and looked to Carl, ‘I’ve been training Ruby, a large golden retriever. She often gets mistaken for a boy because she is so big. But she is a gentle giant and we think that she will be ideal for you. Most of our veterans like a smaller dog, like the spaniels we get donated, but Ruby is ever so special. She was donated by a family who lost a wife and mother. The husband and son wanted her memory to live on in a dog that helped a fellow veteran and we all think that her characteristics live on in Ruby. We think you and she will be well-suited.’
Carl simply nodded. He was overcome with the lengths that people were going to help him and others with the debilitating condition of PTSD.
‘She’s been trained to block and cover, that means that she’ll go in front of you or behind, depending on the command, and not let anyone near you. We tell everyone to remember the commands like this, block your balls and cover your arse!’
Carl had taken a sip of tea and almost spat it out as he laughed, especially as the words came out of this delightful lady. He recovered himself and said, ‘I thought it was just me. I hate going into shops and busy places. I’ve become a bit of a recluse.’
‘That’s the joy of having a Bravehound. She will give you company, but also get you out and about. One veteran takes his to the cinema and it lies under his legs and goes to sleep. We also teach the under command and the chill command for those reasons. Another just mentions bedtime and the spaniel runs up the stairs, nudges open his bedroom door, jumps up on the bed, snuffles under the duvet and rests its head on his special pillow, ready to sleep next to his veteran. It wakes him up during the start of his nightmares by gently touching noses. It breaks the cycle. Another veteran complains that his wife won’t let the dog sleep in their bed! We don’t get involved in that argument!’
Carl marvelled; he had not thought of those type of commands.
‘We’ll go through all the commands she knows later and teach Ruby any that are specific to you. Perhaps you can have a think about that over the next few days and if you are free, we would like you to come to our training centre, to learn how to handle her. Bring your family too, Ruby will become a family pet, as well as your service dog. We will also have a benefits advisor chat to you; in case you have not claimed for something that you are entitled to. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds great. I hadn’t realised that things would go so quick.’
‘Your GP and psychologist helped; they wrote by return post. You are very deserving of a Bravehound, you, like all our veterans, have done some remarkable things for our country.’
Carl looked down to his mug of tea, overcome once more and fighting back tears.
‘Are you able to stay the night in the local Travelodge in Glasgow? We like you to have a night with the dog before it comes home to you for good. Just to make sure that she is happy with you and vice versa. Besides, it is a long way for you to travel and you will be surprised at how mentally tiring the training can be.’
‘That all sounds fine, do you have a photo of Ruby? I’d love to see her and show her to the children.’
The duo smiled at each other and Nancy gleefully said, ‘She’s in the car, would you like to meet her?’
Carl grinned, ‘That would be amazing, yes please.’
Nancy stood up, ‘Great, I’ll bring her in. Perhaps after she’s had a sniff around you can show us all around your garden.’
Carl nodded his agreement as Nancy left the room and went to her car.
Simon was pacing his bedroom by the window, keeping vigil on the large car. He leaned into the pane, bumping his nose on the glass as he peered out when he detected movement. He cursed at the false alarm, it was just a local mother walking to the school, preparing to collect her child.
His bladder was aching and protesting its need to empty, urgently, but he did not want to leave his post. He restarted his pacing, hoping his prostate would not fail him again. The wetness he felt proved otherwise and he ran out of the room and fled down the stairs, hoping to get to the toilet quickly enough before the full flow. He failed. He soon felt the inevitable hotness in his pants that preceded the gush of humiliation.
Carl heard a delightful jingle as a dog tag clinked against the metal ring of a collar. Four paws padded along the lobby laminate flooring and then a rush of yellow and white burst enthusiastically into the room. She scampered along the carpet and its tail brushed against the plate of flapjacks, dislodging one onto the floor, in front of a sniffing wet snout.
‘Leave and sit,’ commanded Nancy.
Carl marvelled at the will power of this beauty before him. She left the dropped food alone and was sitting proudly, keenly awaiting a fresh command. He too ignored the discarded treat and was soon petting the fur of this adorable puppy before him. He judged, correctly, as he would later find out, that she was about eighteen months old. His fingers enjoyed the sensation of the silk-like feel of her fur and the warmth it radiated. He was eager to feel the cuddle command when the time was right. He was oblivious to the nodding and smiles from the two women and was captivated by this dog, ‘Hello sweetie,’ he murmured to her whilst stroking her ears.
