‘No.’

  ‘Poor old boy,’ said Janie, fondling an invisible ear.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.’

  Apart from those old snapshots of Rupert, Janie had never in her life set eyes upon a Great Dane until that unforgettable day shortly after her eighth birthday. They had walked into the great hall of Olympia and made their way past the judging of a whole lot of other breeds – terriers and collies and gun dogs and many more – and suddenly there were the giants, a ring full of them.

  Black and blue, fawn and brindle and harlequin, they stood and showed themselves in all their majestic dignity.

  The judge was a little woman, small enough, it seemed to Janie, to have gone for a ride on any one of the great dogs whose points she was so carefully examining.

  Janie and her mother and father watched at the ringside as class succeeded class, and handlers stood their charges before the little judge, or walked or ran around the ring, the huge dogs striding out beside them. Tall men or short men, thin ladies or fat, old or young, they each had something in common, thought Janie – a Great Big Beautiful Dane. If only we could have one some day, she said to herself.

  A man beside them noticed the rapt expression on Janie’s face.

  ‘Bet you wish you had a dog like one of those,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Actually,’ said Janie, ‘I have. He’s called Henry.’

  ‘Imagine that!’ said the friendly man.

  ‘Henry’s rather out of the ordinary,’ Janie’s mother said.

  ‘Out of this world,’ said her father.

  They stayed and watched till the end of the judging, till the little woman had made her choice between Best Dog and Best Bitch. Both appeared equally beautiful to Janie – every one of the Danes there, it seemed to her, was faultless; she couldn’t see any difference between them except colour. But she desperately wanted the dog to win Best of Breed because, just by chance, he was a harlequin. And her wish was granted.

  ‘He’s beautiful!’ Janie said.

  ‘Isn’t he just!’

  ‘They all were.’

  ‘Weren’t they just!’

  Afterwards they went round the benches, and there he was, with his rosettes and his prize cards and his proud owner.

  Janie pushed between a small crowd of admirers to get a closer look. The dog, she could see, knew just what a clever fellow he was. He had a kind of smile on his great face and his long tail wagged slowly and majestically.

  ‘He’s called Champion Larkmeadow Nobleman of Merlincourt,’ she told her parents.

  ‘Gosh! What a mouthful.’

  ‘But his owner called him Bob. I heard him.’

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘Funny thing though,’ said Janie.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He looked just exactly like Henry.’

  FIVE

  The Tea Leaves

  The postbox was at the top end of the village, not much more than a hundred yards from Janie’s front gate. It was, in fact, set into the low garden wall of Mrs Garrow’s cottage, and Janie sometimes wondered how the old lady posted any letters she might write. Did she come out into the lane and post them from the front like everyone else, or did she stay inside her garden and stretch over the wall, then feel for the opening in the box and post them, so to speak, upside down? No, she wouldn’t be tall enough, would she?

  One day she found the answer.

  ‘Take this letter up to the post for me, Janie, will you, please?’ her mother had said, and Janie set off, the letter in one hand, the lead in the other, the collar around Henry’s invisible neck.

  She was approaching the postbox when she saw Mrs Garrow come out of her front door, also carrying a letter, and walk across her little bit of lawn to a spot directly behind the bright red box.

  She’ll never be able to do it; she’s too short, Janie thought, but then Mrs Garrow seemed suddenly to rise higher, and she leaned right over the top of the wall and posted her letter.

  Straightening up, she saw Janie and let out a burst of quacking laughter.

  ‘Bet you thought I wasn’t tall enough to do that!’ she said. ‘And I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for these,’ and Janie could see that the old lady was standing on top of a little pair of wooden steps positioned behind the wall.

  ‘I always enjoy doing that, Janie,’ Mrs Garrow said. ‘’Specially as I always feel somehow that the postbox is mine, seeing as it’s set in my wall.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Janie. ‘Is it all right if I post my letter in it?’

  ‘Course it is!’ cried Mrs Garrow with another volley of quacks. ‘Though I’m surprised to see you carrying it.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Janie asked.

  ‘Well, I’d have thought that great animal of yours would be carrying it for you in his mouth. Some dogs do, you know. My! He’s a size, isn’t he? What’s his name?’

  ‘Henry,’ said Janie.

  ‘Well I never!’ said Mrs Garrow. ‘D’you know what, Janie? That was my late husband’s name.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Janie. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added.

  ‘No need to be sorry, dear,’ said Mrs Garrow. ‘He’s been dead and gone these twenty years, though never a day passes when I don’t think of him. And you know what? There’s a lot in common between your Henry and mine.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Janie said.

  ‘Well, my Henry was a great big chap too – he didn’t need a stepladder to post a letter – and another thing, he was quiet, just like your dog. He doesn’t bark much, does he?’

  ‘No,’ Janie said.

  ‘Saw one just like him on the telly, couple of weeks ago,’ Mrs Garrow said. ‘Some big dog show it was.’

  ‘Cruft’s!’ said Janie. ‘We went there!’

  ‘Did you take Henry?’

  ‘No, but there was a dog there just exactly like him and he won the prize for Best of Breed. Another harlequin Great Dane, he was.’

  ‘A harlequin Great Dane, eh?’ said Mrs Garrow, and she looked down from her perch at the dangling collar and nodded.

  ‘I see,’ she said.

  ‘And Daddy says I can have a real one – I mean, another one – but only on one condition.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘I have to have five hundred pounds.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money.’

  ‘It’s a fortune!’

  Mrs Garrow looked down at Janie and her invisible dog, and her wrinkled face creased some more, into a smile.

  ‘Talking of fortunes, Janie,’ she said, ‘how would you like me to tell yours?’

  ‘Oh, could you? Oh yes, please,’ said Janie.

  ‘Come in and have a cup of tea then.’

  ‘I’d better ask Mum,’ said Janie.

  ‘You do that,’ said Mrs Garrow. ‘I’ve got some nice cake.’

  When Janie returned, permission granted, Mrs Garrow called from her front door, ‘Come on in.’

  ‘What about Henry?’ Janie said.

  ‘He’d better stay in the garden,’ Mrs Garrow said. ‘My old black cat doesn’t like dogs.’

  ‘All right,’ said Janie, and she came in through the gate and dropped the collar and lead on the lawn. ‘Down, Henry,’ she said, and, ‘Stay.’

  ‘Now,’ said Mrs Garrow when they had drunk their tea, ‘let’s have a look in your cup.’

  For a long moment she studied the tea leaves in the bottom of the cup, very carefully.

  Then she said, ‘Janie, I think you’re going to be lucky.’

  ‘Why? What can you see?’ Janie asked.

  ‘Look,’ said Mrs Garrow, handing the cup back.

  Janie looked in, but all she could see was a scatter of black tea leaves at the bottom of the white cup.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve got to know what you’re looking for,’ said Mrs Garrow. ‘There’s a shape there all right – a great big shape it is, no doubt about it, and what’s more, it’s black-and-white.’

  ‘A harlequin Great Dane!’ cried Janie. ‘Is that what it is?’

  Mrs Garrow smiled her crinkly smile.

  ‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ she said. ‘And now you’d best get off home.’

  Out on the lawn, Janie picked up the end of the lead.

  ‘Heel, Henry!’ she said, and, ‘Thank you for the tea, Mrs Garrow. I hope the tea leaves were right.’

  ‘Talking of leaves,’ said Mrs Garrow, ‘this lawn’s covered in them. I’d better sweep them up. Bye-bye, Janie dear.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ Janie said.

  For a moment she stood in the lane by the postbox, looking over the low wall. On the lawn old Mrs Garrow was sweeping away with a long broomstick of birch twigs, watched by her black cat.

  SIX

  The Money

  ‘I’m bankrupt,’ said Janie’s mother.

  ‘And I soon shall be,’ said her father. ‘I don’t think it’s fair. Whoever heard of a dog playing Monopoly?’

  ‘’Specially an invisible dog,’ his wife said.

  Janie sat grinning, a great stack of money in front of her. She patted the unseen head at her side.

  ‘You played well,’ she said.

  It had been Janie’s idea that Henry should take part in the game. She threw the dice for him, of course, and moved his symbol round the board, and collected the rents from all his properties as well as her own. As always, she played with the top-hat, her mother with the flat-iron and her father with the car. Henry’s symbol, naturally, had to be the dog.

  ‘OK,’ said Janie’s father as the car landed on Henry’s Park Lane hotel. ‘I’ve had it too. You win, Janie. You and Henry.’

  ‘Cheer up, Daddy,’ Janie said. ‘I’ve got a nice surprise for you,’ and from a wad of money she peeled off a five-hundred-pound note and held it out to him.

  ‘What’s this for?’ he said.

  ‘For my Great Dane puppy. Remember what you said? “You come along with five hundred pounds,” you said …’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ her father said. ‘It’s got to be real money if you want a real dog. Five hundred pounds of Monopoly money indeed – you’ll be lucky!’

  ‘I think I will be,’ Janie said.

  Later, Janie’s mother said, ‘I wish you hadn’t done that silly thing, David.’

  ‘What silly thing?’

  ‘Telling Janie she could have a puppy if she had five hundred pounds. You saw the look on her face just now – she genuinely believes she’s going to be lucky. It’s not fair on the child – there’s no way she could find that amount. Either put up the money yourself or shut up about it.’

  ‘I just might,’ Janie’s father said.

  ‘Might what? Shut up?’

  ‘No, put up the money. Ever since Janie brought out that lead and collar, I’ve found myself thinking of dear old Rupert and what a super dog he was and wondering why we never replaced him. And what with Cruft’s – well, I must admit I’m getting quite keen on the idea. After all, Sally, we are the right sort of people to have a big dog – we’ve a sizeable house and garden, we live in the country and we can afford it.’

  ‘You told Janie we couldn’t when she first asked you.’

  ‘Yes, I know; it’s all the fault of that invisible dog of hers. The more she plays that game, the more I find I want to see an actual living, breathing, flesh-and-blood Dane on that lead.’

  ‘A harlequin.’

  ‘Does that matter? Surely any colour would do.’

  ‘Not for Janie it wouldn’t. And it may not be easy to find exactly what we want.’

  ‘We?’ said her husband. ‘You go along with the idea then?’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘We will,’ said Janie’s father, and he grinned, slyly it seemed to his wife.

  ‘What have you got up your sleeve?’ she said.

  ‘Not up my sleeve,’ said Janie’s father. ‘In my pocket,’ and he took something out of it.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘An advertisement. I cut it out of the local paper.’

  ‘You don’t mean …?’

  ‘Yes. Listen. 𔄬Great Dane puppies for sale. Blacks, blues, one harlequin.”’

  ‘Price?’

  ‘Doesn’t say.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Not all that far away. Extraordinary, isn’t it? I had no idea there was a Great Dane breeder anywhere near here. And there’s a harlequin in the litter too. What a bit of luck!’

  ‘Janie said she’d be lucky, didn’t she?’

  ‘I know. All it needs now is for five hundred pounds to drop out of the sky and land in Janie’s lap and I shall begin to believe in witchcraft.’

  At that instant they heard a loud noise outside.

  ‘What on earth was that?’ Janie’s father said.

  Her mother went to look out of the window.

  ‘Oh, it’s only old Mrs Garrow going down the lane,’ she said. ‘She has the most peculiar laugh.’

  ‘I’ll say! I thought it was a duck quacking.’

  ‘She’s chatting with Janie. And she’s flapping her hand up and down. Oh no, I see what she’s doing – she’s patting Henry.’

  ‘That,’ said Janie’s father, ‘has really made my mind up. If it’s got to the stage where Janie’s playing her invisible dog game with people like Mrs Garrow, it’s high time we got a visible one.’

  ‘Will you tell Janie?’

  ‘No, not yet. The harlequin pup may be sold, or it may be a bitch, or it may just be a poor specimen. We must go and see the puppies.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘As soon as you’ve taken Janie to school tomorrow morning.’

  ‘But you’ll be going to work.’

  ‘No. I’m taking the day off. I’ve fixed it at the office. Urgent business.’

  ‘David! You are a slyboots!’

  The postman came just as Janie was getting ready to go to school next morning, and by the time their car reached the top end of the village his van was parked outside Mrs Garrow’s cottage while he collected the outgoing mail from the postbox.

  Mrs Garrow was chatting to him and she waved at Janie as they went by.

  ‘Your friend,’ said Janie’s mother.

  ‘She’s nice,’ said Janie, waving back.

  ‘Did you enjoy going to tea with her?’

  ‘Yes, it was interesting.’

  They drove on, while the postman got into his van and drove away, down towards their house.

  SEVEN

  The Kennels

  Back home again, Janie’s mother found her husband still sitting at the breakfast table, looking very pleased with life. He waved a letter at her.

  ‘What’s up?’ his wife said. ‘You look as if you’ve won the pools.’

  ‘I haven’t won anything,’ Janie’s father said. ‘Janie has. Do you remember when she was very small I bought some Premium Bonds for her? Well, they’ve won her some money – quite a nice sum. Here’s the letter telling me so.’

  ‘Don’t tell me it’s five hundred pounds!’

  ‘No, that would be an unbelievable coincidence after what I said about buying a Great Dane puppy.’

  ‘How much then?’

  ‘Two hundred.’

  ‘It won’t be enough then,’ Janie’s mother said.

  ‘Enough for what?’

  ‘Why, to buy one of those puppies. For Janie to buy one, I mean, with her own money.’

  They looked at one another.

  ‘We might have to add a bit to it,’ Janie’s father said.

  They looked at one another again, and they smiled.

  ‘Ring up the kennels,’ Janie’s mother said, ‘and see if they’ll keep the harlequin until we get there.’

  She listened anxiously to her husband’s share of the conversation.

  ‘Good morning. I’m inquiring about the pups you advertised. Are they sold?’

  ‘I see. But you still have the harlequin?’

  …

  ‘Dog or bitch?’

  …

  ‘Oh, good. That’s the one we’re interested in. Can you keep him for us?’

  …

  ‘Yes, I understand. We must take a chance on that. We’ll be with you just as soon as we can. By the way, how much are you asking for him?’

  The answer to this last question seemed to take some time, but at last Janie’s father put the phone down.

  ‘The harlequin is a dog puppy,’ he said, ‘and he’s not sold. The woman said she couldn’t guarantee to keep him for us. She’s sold a couple of the others but hasn’t had anyone after the harlequin yet.’

  ‘How much?’ Janie’s mother said. ‘She seemed to take a lot of time answering when you asked her that.’

  ‘That’s because she was giving me a long spiel about how well bred this litter is, and what the mother had won, and the fact that the father is Champion Thingummy Nobleman of Wotsitsname – you know, the dog that won at Cruft’s.’

  ‘So, how much?’

  ‘Five hundred pounds.’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry,’ the breeder said when they arrived. ‘No sooner had you rung off than someone turned up, wanting the harlequin puppy. He’s just this moment driven off; you probably passed him on your way here.’

  Janie’s parents looked at one another once more, and they sighed a joint sigh.

  ‘There are still two blacks and a blue left,’ said the breeder.

  ‘No,’ Janie’s mother said, ‘thanks all the same. It has to be a harlequin or nothing.’

  ‘Leave me your address and phone number then,’ said the breeder. ‘I might hear of something.’

  ‘At least Janie doesn’t know anything about it,’ said one to the other as they drove home again, ‘so she won’t be disappointed.’

  ‘And she’s got a nice surprise waiting for her when she gets back from school this afternoon.’

  ‘I didn’t even know I had a Premium Bond,’ Janie said when they showed her the letter and the cheque. ‘You never told me.’

 

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