Bag of weasels. Chapter 16

But it was good to see them both. I introduced them to Ralph. They shifted uneasily, not looking at him: they found his size and dark frown perturbing, they could sense his power inside his dark skin. But Ralph nodded and smiled, and the fact that he was with me helped loosen them up.
"You're looking dirty, said Didgy, as a way of greeting, "And I like your feather, and he leant down to touch it.
"So, what strange turn of events brought you to this palace, I wonder?
Doinky jumped in, "You here like us, then, Sunny? Dogs? Messages? Dogs?
Didgy saved me from him.
"You know how he is, Sunny, away with the pixies. Always in your own little world, aren't you Doinky?
Doinky looked hurt, but Didgy continued: "But I'll forgive him this time, the boy. Take it all back, I do. He might well have stumbled onto something for once, for all his wayward daftness There's been some strange stuff happening to us and no mistake. Either that or I ain't got the sense I was born with; knocking around with this one's what's done it no doubt.
Doinky spoke up: "Tell him about the dogs, Didgy!
"Easy, Doinky, easy. All in good time.
Doinky looked disappointed, but he'd caught Ralph's interest.
"You two got a story to tell, then? He asked. He was a difficult man to refuse.
"We have, we have. It might raise an eyebrow though, it ain't a run of the mill tale.
Ralph looked blank, an air of get on with it.
"Ahem, right, well, this is how it's been for us, said Didgy, "and this is why we're here. A little while back, Doinky started getting the idea that he was getting followed.
"By a dog!
"Who's telling this story?
"Sorry Didge,
"Right, well, like I said, and like he said, Doinky got it into his head he was being followed, by a dog. Or dogs, we still ain't clear on that one. You know, he never really got over poor old Wilko,
Doinky looked down at his feet at the mention of the dog's name.
Didgy carried on with his tale, "Yep. Terrible business, that was. He loved that pooch. We both did.
And Doinky was never the same, which was why I thought he was conjuring it all up in his head; he's a bit of a dreamer is our Doinky.
Anyway, he'd keep skating off at the drop of a hat ' 'There he is!' - he'd shout and off he'd go, and I'd go after him, and that's how it'd be for days on end. Doinky swore blind this dog was not only following him, but was trying to lead him somewhere. Up the garden path I said at the time, never heard the like of it.
The upshot of it was I couldn't keep up with him. I lost him for a couple of days. Nice to get a bit of peace, he winked conspiratorially, "Got a bit of thinking done, had a mooch. You know what I mean.
I nodded, knowing that Didgy had probably been ripping his hair out over Doinky's disappearance.
"I first spotted him again in Ham Park, swaying about in the moonlight in the middle of the night. Enough to scare the horses it was.
Doinky leaned over to me and tapped his head and his nose, then pointed to me, saying: "But I showed him, Sunny, I showed him. Didn't I Didgy, I showed you didn't I?
"Yep. He showed me.
"Showed you what? I asked, although I had a hunch as to what it was; I was getting the hang of this.
Doinky bent right over me, bending his legs at the last to crouch at my side, and spoke soft and earnest: "Writings, Sunny. Writings.
"Alright, don't spook the poor chap, shouted Didgy. "Tell him where you found 'em.
"In a house, said Doinky, who sat himself down next to me. "In an empty house. I followed the dog in there, and found a biscuit tin, and found these inside.
He pulled a wedge of paper out from under his jumper where he'd kept them tucked in his waistband. I took them from him, they were folded twice into a handy square, grease and dirt marking the creases, proof of them having been pulled out and read and folded back up to be pulled out again, in and out all the way down to here, read over again by Didgy and Doinky til they breathed those words alive.
At Doinky's insistence, I read the first pages.

"I saw the dog again last night. I swear it is haunting me.
It comes when it is quiet, when the streets are deserted and every small sound echoes
over the rooftops.
Then I hear the snuffling and the clicketty-clack of its claws on the pavement just
around the corner.
Sometimes, I have turned in an attempt to catch a glimpse, only to see its wagging
tail disappearing round a wall. But tonight, it stood out in the street, front legs splayed,
ears erect, panting, tail up and twitching; not unfriendly.
We stood there eying each other for a moment.
Then it ran a few paces in my direction, paused, and lifted its snout up and sniffed
the air, as if pointing towards me. It stepped forward again, and let out a short yip.
There was a strange intelligence emanating from this cur that no dog should be in
possession of. I knew, it was beckoning me. I took a step towards it. Its tail wagged
just the once. I took another step and its tail wagged faster and it did a little skip
and yip. I trotted to cover the remaining distance.
It turned and ran.
I too ran, but when I reached the corner the dog was already at the next, looking
back at me, ears erect and its tail wagging. My curiosity aroused, I ran down to
the next corner in time to see the damned dog waiting at the gate of the dilapidated
and abandoned old Meeting House which slumped against the bright square buildings
of the new municipal housing works. The dog squeezed through the gate, padded up
the short path and disappeared through a hole in the front door panel.
This hunt for the dog had taken over my senses, the creature had played me
over the last few nights and I now attached more importance to trapping this hound
than it was surely worth.
I entered the gate, walked briskly up the path before common sense could stop
me and tried the door handle. To my surprise it was unlocked. I entered the house.
I never found that dog. In retrospect, I was a fool to think I ever could; a dog so
wily would not ensnare itself so easily or willingly. And I now believe it was no
simple canine.
But in that house I found something else.

Here we go, I thought.
"Read the next bit Sunny, it really takes off.

"Yesterday I saw an angel.
I saw it, old and abandoned and ignored; its light was fading.
It told me: 'My names are many, and so are my forms: dogs and men and
portents, words when words will do. Walk me back to power. Bring me back
to feed the city. I am its soul.'
Its wings touched the sky. Lighter than light, lighter than air, higher than
St Paul's it arced across the city, and touched it, reaching down through
the centuries old foundations.
And I walked those points, out beyond my known environs, to Harmondsworth
and back I walked.

I looked up when I'd finished.
Didgy was the first to speak: "Now I don't mean nothing by it Sunny, and you know Doinky's my closest friend, my only friend. We've been through some times, we have. But really, he can't write like this. He can't write well at all. That's how it is, it don't mean anything. But what I'm saying is, this is too neat, it reads too well to be him, and he swears it weren't him, don't you Doinky?
"I never wrote it, honest! confirmed Doinky.
"So for all that, it's double strange to be saying what it does, don't you think? That stuff about following a dog? Bit coincidental, you might say.
He let me think on that for a minute.
"Well, anyway, back to how it was. There we were, standing in the moonlight, with me having just finished the last little snippet, when I saw it.
"The dog!
"The dog indeed. Spotty thing looking at us, pointing our way ' if you know your dogs you know what I mean, its whole body was saying: 'Yes, you two.'
And it was creepy, but we ran over to it anyway, and to cut it short we've chased it all the way to here.
"Did you have any trouble on your way? Asked Ralph.
Didgy and Doinky looked at each other, decided something on their psychic wavelength.
"Something's out there, said Didgy in a low voice. "Something was watching us. Following.
"They'd take me back, Sunny, I know it! That's who they were!
"That's it, you see, Said Didgy, "You and Doinky, you've both spent time in the wards in the past. You're both coming from the same place as it were. I ain't. I've always been out on the streets, I have. But you two, they know you, know your ways, know where you'll go. But the flipside is, you know them too. Now Doinky here, he could sense something strange out there. He could smell 'em.
At first, I thought he was just wobbling, always looking over his shoulder, keeping us on the hurry up. But there came this time when I had to go back, I'd left a doss bag in a house somewhere.
"I told him, Sunny, not to go, but he wouldn't listen, would you?
"No. When I got to the house it was boarded up, and there were some creepy strange types there, stiff and straight and wary. And they were quick to see me.
I asked, "What did they do?
"I was way down the street, a few yards away from them. But they all stopped talking amongst themselves, and they all looked over at me ' there were four of them as I remember ' and they all smiled. Big wide welcoming smiles they were. Then one of them calls out me. He says, "Hello Didgy!
"How did he know your name?
"That's just it, Said Didgy, speaking faster now he was getting excited, "He shouldn't know my name. It stuck me to the spot for a second. But then they came walking fast towards me. I got my senses back quick and turned and ran.