Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door Read online

  ‘Yes, technically, it does,’ Matthew spluttered, going red in the face. ‘Now for heaven’s sake, get out of that chair!’

  The boy quickly slid to the floor and shuffled out from behind the desk. He was very small, even for his age. The jumper almost reached his knees.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ he muttered quietly, looking at the carpet.

  Matthew glared at him. ‘For the last time, who are you?’ he snapped. ‘What do you think you’re doing, waltzing into my office without first …’

  ‘I’m Alex Jennings, sir,’ said the boy.

  Matthew stopped dead, and stared back at him.

  ‘Alex Jennings,’ he repeated.

  The boy nodded.

  ‘The boy they bucketed,’ said Matthew. ‘That was you?’

  Alex nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Matthew. ‘And … you’re fine now?’

  Alex shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Matthew. ‘That’s good to hear.’

  The two of them stood in silence for a moment.

  ‘Well?’ said Matthew.

  Alex looked up. ‘Yes, sir?’

  Matthew sighed. ‘What are you doing here, Alex?’

  The boy’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, yeah.’

  Without another moment’s pause he leaped forward, wielding the clipboard like a steering wheel.

  ‘Do you like dogs, Mr Price?’ he began enthusiastically.

  ‘No,’ said Matthew.

  ‘Well, lots of people do,’ said Alex, not missing a beat. ‘Myself included. I love dogs, but my mum says if I ever bring one home again she’ll kill me. So I propose that each child in school is given a dog that can live with them in their dorm rooms. Everybody loves dogs, so financially speaking it’s a sound investment.’

  Matthew let the information settle.

  ‘Er …’ he began.

  ‘Only twenty-five per cent of dogs in shelters ever find homes,’ Alex continued. ‘And that’s an optimistic estimation. So by rehousing these dogs we would be providing a public service, as well as a profitable scheme for the school.’

  Matthew looked back at him.

  ‘Dogs,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Alex. ‘They are intelligent and noble beasts, and you can teach them to do tricks. We could have them collect mail and dirty laundry during school hours. Better yet, we could train them in the art of stunts and form them into a troupe of show dogs ready for Spring Term.’

  He held up a colourful handmade poster of a dog wearing a top hat being fired out of a cannon. Matthew looked at the poster, and then at Alex.

  ‘Dogs,’ he said.

  ‘Five hundred of them, sir,’ Alex grinned. ‘Somersaulting through hoops, swallowing fire, you name it. A feast for the eyes and ears. And I’ve got over forty signatures of support from fellow students.’ Alex thrust the clipboard into Matthew’s hands. ‘That makes it officially ready for approval by the Headmaster, or Acting Headmaster, which in this case is you.’

  Matthew took a moment to collect himself. He looked down at the clipboard for a moment, and then back to Alex, who was nodding encouragingly.

  ‘Dogs,’ he repeated.

  ‘Some say man’s best friend, sir,’ said Alex, giving a theatrical wink.

  Matthew looked back at the clipboard, and then back at the boy.

  ‘Well, Alex,’ he began, ‘owning a dog is a great responsibility. One that a person should not simply jump into.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Alex, nodding enthusiastically.

  ‘That’s not to mention the school’s budget,’ Matthew continued, ‘which is usually spent on things like wages, or new computers. I have to say that the logistics of the school suddenly housing five hundred dogs makes your ambitious performing-dog plan an unlikelihood, before we even begin to consider the moral issues of training them to perform potentially fatal stunts.’

  ‘Mmm, yes, I see,’ said Alex, still nodding. ‘We can work on that.’

  ‘Besides,’ Matthew continued, ‘most of the names on this petition are actually made up.’ He held up the clipboard. ‘I don’t think there’s a pupil in the school called “Get Bent, Alex”. And this one here is just a drawing of you being savaged by a Rottweiler.’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘The plan has come up against some resistance,’ the boy admitted. ‘But I challenge you, Mr Price, to name me one great plan that wasn’t ridiculed in its time. Besides, most of the ridicule is from Jeremy Butterworth, who between you and me is an idiot, and whose French horn I have to pick up, by the way.’

  Alex pointed over to a black case on Matthew’s desk. It was covered in swear words written in Tipp-Ex.

  ‘Oh, he wants his horn back?’ Matthew asked. ‘And why are you getting it for him, Alex?’

  ‘I’m his roommate, sir,’ said Alex.

  Matthew snorted. ‘He can come and talk to me about it himself if he wants it so badly.’

  ‘I appreciate that, sir,’ said Alex. ‘But he’s just been asked to stand in for a special concert, and the bus is picking him up in less than an hour. I’m obviously loath to bring it to him myself as I’ve had it glued to my face all night, but if I don’t do what he says he’ll use me as a pillow for the next week.’

  Matthew’s face dropped. ‘You’re not serious, Alex.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Alex, with a shrug. ‘I get beaten to a paste anyway, whether I do what he says or not. The others have bucketed me so many times now I’ve gotten pretty good at it.’

  ‘You just … put up with it?’ said Matthew.

  ‘Pretty much,’ said Alex, nodding. ‘Besides, things are looking up this year – I’ve started a dog-walking service in the town, so I won’t be onsite during the prime post-prep bucketing hours. Would you like a business card?’

  He reached into his pocket and offered Matthew a card. Matthew looked down at it. Alex Jennings: Bone-a Fido Dog Walker.

  ‘The town?’ said Matthew. ‘Alex, that’s an hour away on the bus.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Actually it’s two buses.’

  Matthew looked down at the business card, and back up again.

  ‘Alex, do you have many friends?’

  Alex fiddled with his jumper. ‘You mean who aren’t dogs, I’m guessing?’

  Matthew nodded.

  ‘Then no,’ said Alex. ‘I just like dogs.’

  ‘I see,’ said Matthew.

  There was an awkward pause. Matthew looked at the boy. He had absolutely no idea what to say.

  ‘Muffin?’ he hazarded.

  Alex looked back up, blankly. Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed clingfilmed blob.

  ‘Muffins,’ said Matthew. ‘Please. Have one.’

  Alex reached out. Matthew suddenly grabbed it back. ‘You can eat linseed, can’t you?’

  Alex looked blank. ‘What’s linseed?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  Alex took the muffin, looked at it and put it in his pocket. There was another awkward silence.

  ‘Would you like to talk about it?’ said Matthew eventually.

  Alex looked confused. ‘The muffin?’

  Matthew frowned. ‘The bullying, Alex.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alex. ‘No thanks, sir. I’d prefer not to.’

  ‘That’s fine, Alex,’ said Matthew kindly.

  Slowly, he reached out and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘You know, Alex,’ Matthew said warmly, ‘you share your name with a very important person. Someone who liked dogs … well, probably even more than you do.’ He smiled. ‘Have you ever heard of Alex J. Jennings?’

  Alex’s face paled.

  ‘Years ago,’ Matthew began, ‘probably before you were even born, there was a man named Alex J. Jennings.’

  ‘Sir …’ said Alex weakly.

  ‘He was a great and famous explorer,’ Matthew continued, ignoring him. ‘Probably the greatest in the world. He scaled mountains that no one had ever scaled before, and mapped out jungles that had n
ever been explored. So when the Order of the Sword and Torch decided to launch a new Expedition across the boundary and into the Forbidden Land, they decided he was the ideal man to lead it. They made him the “Official Head of Expeditions”. Ever heard of it, Alex?’

  Alex was silent. Matthew shrugged.

  ‘No, I guess you wouldn’t have,’ he said. ‘Your generation haven’t even had the chance to see an Expedition being launched, have you? Well, I can tell you it’s a very important job, Alex. They don’t give it to just anyone. I was just a young boy when Alex J. Jennings took the job, and it was very big news. Remember, at that time nobody had tried to set foot past the boundary for years – centuries, even!’

  Matthew turned to the enormous map that hung on the wall behind them. It showed the school grounds, the rugby pitches and tracks, stretching far into the desolate Outskirts beyond. The road to town snaked up from the bottom edge of the map, winding past the school and up towards the enormous shape that dominated the top. There – as if some mistake had been made at the printers – the barren fields suddenly and abruptly ended, like a circle of blank paper had been stuck to the map itself.

  ‘The Forbidden Land,’ said Matthew. ‘The one place that no one had ever managed to explore. By the time Jennings took the job people had tried everything to get past the boundary and discover what lay at its centre. And I mean, everything! Walking on special stilts, flying with enormous wooden wings, being fired out of a cannon … they even tried building a giant pier to the centre at one point.

  ‘Of course,’ Matthew continued, ‘they didn’t succeed. It was no use. As you know, once you cross the boundary, everything changes. For as long as anyone can remember, no man, woman or child has ever managed to cross over the boundary into the Forbidden Land without being irresistibly, forcibly pushed out again.’

  Matthew reached up to the map and pulled out a newspaper clipping that had been tagged to its side.

  ‘But Alex J. Jennings was the first person to realise that dogs weren’t affected by the power of the Forbidden Land,’ he continued. ‘Dogs had been running over the boundary without getting forcibly pushed out for hundreds of years. It’s almost like a magnet draws them to the centre. So why not use them?’

  Matthew held up the newspaper clipping. It was a faded sketch drawing of a man in an antique metal diving suit, an airpipe trailing from the back of his helmet. He was sitting on top of what looked like an enormous metal throne. The throne was bolted onto a giant sledge, and at the front of the sledge stood a pack of harnessed dogs.

  ‘So that’s exactly what Jennings did,’ said the Headmaster. ‘He built a wheeled sledge, pulled by packs of dogs, and strapped himself to a great metal seat on top. That way he couldn’t be pushed out again once the sledge crossed the boundary, and there was no chance of him accidentally setting a foot on the ground either – of course, we all know the consequences of that happening …’

  Matthew held out the newspaper clipping for Alex. The boy did not take it. He stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed to the carpet. Matthew awkwardly took back the clipping.

  ‘Well, I can tell you they were very exciting times, Alex,’ he said. ‘Everyone was certain Jennings would be the one to finally make it to the heart of the Forbidden Land and find out what was in the centre. When I was a child, Alex J. Jennings was my absolute hero. I remember watching the television with my whole family the day he set off from the Grand Expedition Centre, strapped to the chair in his metal suit. I thought he was the bravest man in the entire world.’

  Matthew sighed.

  ‘Unfortunately the story doesn’t end very happily,’ he said. ‘No one heard back from him for weeks, and when they did he’d lost the dogs. And the sledge. Turns out he hadn’t reached the centre of the Forbidden Land at all, he’d just gone bonkers. In fact, he thought he was a dog. They had to lock him up, I think. He was in a coma the last I heard of him. Er …’

  Matthew trailed off, and turned back to the boy. Alex was still staring at the floor, his face flushed.

  ‘But that’s not the point,’ said the Headmaster emphatically, grabbing Alex by the shoulder again. ‘The point is, you shouldn’t let anyone treat you like you’ve been treated. Ever.’

  Alex nodded, his eyes locked to the carpet.

  ‘And the next time anyone tries to,’ said Matthew, ‘I want you to think about what Alex J. Jennings would have done. Will you, Alex?’

  Alex nodded furiously. ‘Yes, Mr Price.’

  Matthew looked down at the boy still staring at the carpet, fumbling his knitted jumper into a mass of knots and holes.

  ‘Look, Alex,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you take the horn this time. I know that standing up for yourself … well, it’s not always easily done, is it?’ He paused for a moment, and turned to look up at the oil painting of his father that loomed above them both. ‘No,’ he muttered again. ‘It’s not always easily done.’

  The phone on the desk suddenly rang. Matthew sighed, and thrust the clipboard back into Alex’s hands.

  ‘Well, off you go, Alex,’ he said. ‘Take Jeremy his horn. But the next time he tries anything, make sure I know about it.’

  ‘Yes Mr Price,’ Alex muttered meekly, grabbing the horn and making a frantic break for the door.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Matthew, beaming with triumph and shoving the phone to his ear. ‘Have a good day, Alex … Er, hello?’

  ‘Is that Alex Jennings with you?’ came an anxious voice. It was Mrs Beaumont.

  ‘Yes, he’s just leaving,’ said Matthew, looking up. Alex was at the office door.

  ‘Don’t let him leave,’ said Mrs Beaumont.

  Matthew started. ‘Er … pardon?’

  ‘The police are here to see him.’

  Matthew looked up.

  ‘The police …?’

  ‘His father’s escaped from hospital,’ said Mrs Beaumont.

  Matthew stopped dead.

  ‘His father …’

  ‘Alex J. Jennings!’ came the voice impatiently. ‘Alex J. Jennings the explorer.’

  Matthew looked up in horror. Alex was standing at the open doorway, his exit blocked by two great policemen. One had a moustache, and the other was totally bald, but they were the exact same height, their mouths hardened into identical lines. They looked down at the boy in the enormous jumper, his hair as messy and ragged as a tiny dog’s.

  ‘Alex Jennings,’ said the one with the moustache. ‘We’re here to talk about your father.’

  3

  Alex shifted back against the red plastic chair. It gave a little squeak.

  Squeak.

  He did it again.

  Squeak, squeak, squeak.

  He looked back up. The two policemen were sitting uneasily on identical red chairs opposite him, twiddling their thumbs and gazing around the prep room. At one point it had been the school’s in-house abattoir, and the corners of the room were still decorated with carved wooden stag heads. Nowadays the children came here to do their homework before lights out, and the room was stacked with unused desks and tiny chairs. A weekly timetable hung from a pair of antlers.

  ‘Has anyone told my mum?’ Alex asked eventually.

  The policeman with the moustache nodded. ‘She knows all about it.’

  ‘Is she on her way here now?’ said Alex nervously.

  The policemen shared a glance.

  ‘Sure,’ said the bald one.

  Alex sighed with relief. ‘Good.’

  There was another pause.

  ‘Do either of you like dogs?’ he tried.

  There was a knock at the door, and Matthew’s head popped cautiously inside. He gave Alex a nod. ‘Everything OK, Alex?’ he asked gently.

  Alex nodded. ‘Yes thank you, Mr Price.’

  ‘Ah. Good,’ Matthew smiled. He looked over at the policemen, and held up a blue plastic bag. ‘They only had tuna.’

  The bald one beamed with triumph and punched the air. The one with the moustache rolled
his eyes. Matthew stepped over and gingerly deposited the bag on the table.

  ‘You’re sure there’s nothing else I can do?’ he asked the policemen.

  ‘Not right now, son,’ said the one with the moustache. ‘Just send in the Headmaster when he gets back.’

  ‘I am the Headmaster,’ said Matthew miserably.

  ‘Oh,’ said the policeman. He looked over at Alex with genuine pity. ‘Well, you’d better sit down then.’

  Matthew shifted a tiny red chair up to the table and sat down. The prep room descended into silence once more. They all watched the bald policeman tear the clingfilm off his roll and stuff a good third of it into his mouth, going cross-eyed with pleasure.

  ‘Did anyone actually see him wake up?’ Alex asked, breaking the silence.

  There was a pause. The policemen shared another glance.

  ‘The notebook, Duncan,’ the policeman with the moustache muttered irritably.

  Officer Duncan pointed at his full mouth and shook his head.

  The first policeman muttered under his breath and pulled a notebook out of his pocket. He scanned the pages.

  ‘Only one person saw it happen,’ he said. ‘One of the nurses was doing the rounds when Mr Jennings suddenly woke from the coma. Very disoriented, she said. He fought against a dozen orderlies before leaping out of the second-floor window and jumping the fence.’

  Alex’s eyes widened. ‘My father did that?’

  The policemen nodded.

  ‘Why?’ said Alex.

  Officer Duncan swallowed, hard.

  ‘We were kind of hoping you might be able to answer that one for us,’ he said sheepishly.

  There was another knock at the door, and everyone turned round. Mrs Beaumont’s head and shoulder pads emerged into view. She gave Alex a smile of genuine warmth.

  ‘Hello, Alex,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Beaumont,’ said Alex quietly.

  Mrs Beaumont turned to the policemen, and her face suddenly took on a weight of seriousness.

  ‘He’s here,’ she said.

  The policemen exchanged a nervous glance. Alex paled, and sank further into his chair. Mrs Beaumont disappeared from the doorway.

  ‘I think I’d better go,’ said Matthew, blissfully oblivious. ‘Alex, I’m sure Officer Mike and Officer Duncan will both look after you until I …’