The Dog Who Came In From The Cold

Chapter 66: Eddie Upbraids William over Freddie

William French’s son, Eddie, had been an utter disappointment to his father, and to his late mother, his teachers, his scout leader, and most of his friends – except, of course, the loyal, uncritical Steve. His failure to achieve anything had begun early – at nursery school, in fact – and had continued throughout his brief period of tertiary education, when he had been given a last-minute place on an under-subscribed course at a struggling university in a remote part of the city. The course in film studies was not unduly onerous, requiring not much more than the watching of a certain number of films each week, but even that proved a strain of Eddie’s staying power, and he had dropped out. After that he had taken to spending the morning in bed in the flat he shared with his father in Corduroy Mansions.

Eddie had ignored his father’s frequent hints that he should find a place of his own. These had become more and more direct, and had eventually included offers to help with a mortgage. But why move? If one had a comfortable, reasonably central flat with porterage (father) and all meals provided (father), then why rough it in a shared flat where cooking would have to be done (Eddie) and contributions made to electricity (Eddie), gas (Eddie) and telephone (Eddie) bills? No, in common with many contemporary twenty-something-year-olds, Eddie saw no reason to leave the entirely comfortable nest that his father so thoughtfully provided.

Eventually the worm had turned, and Eddie had been driven out of Corduroy Mansions by William’s friend, Marcia, who had stood up to him in a way his father had singularly failed to do. Smarting, Eddie had moved into a flat with his friend, Steve, a move that would eventually have resulted in trouble over unpaid bills had it not been for a singular stroke of luck in meeting Merle. She was ten years his senior, but endowed with an overwhelming advantage that would cancel out any drawback in age: she had a beach house in the Windward Islands, where she owned a thriving marina and yacht chandlery. Eddie liked Merle, and she for some inexplicable reason reciprocated his affection. They set up home together, spending six months each year in the Windward Islands and six months in London. Eddie thought the arrangement ideal. He took to wearing an ex-Greek merchant navy captain’s cap, and spending his mornings at the marina telling the staff what to do.

“Sure thing, Captain Eddie,” they replied. But they never did what he asked them to do, and Eddie never noticed. So everybody was content.

Eddie and Merle were now back in London, and Eddie had decided to visit his father, whom he had not seen since his return. William had hoped that Eddie would bring Merle – he had never met her – but apparently she had business to do in Southampton and was unable to come.

“Next time, Dad,” said Eddie. “Merle’s not going anywhere.”

William thought this remark applied very aptly to Eddie, but did not say so. Instead he said, “I look forward to meeting her. She sounds very … very nice.” The trite praise was lame, but he wondered what else he could say about a person whom he had never met. She would probably be blowsy, he thought, a bit like a younger version of Marcia … He stopped himself. That was a disloyal thought. Marcia was not blowsy, or perhaps only a little bit. It was disloyal to think such things about a woman who had offered him nothing but friendship, and brought round to the house all those marvellous surplus snacks from the diplomatic receptions for which she catered.

“So, what are you up to, Dad?” asked Eddie cheerfully. “Same old, same old, I suppose.”

William drew a deep breath. He would not allow his son to condescend to him. He should point out that at least he worked, whereas Eddie did the same old, same old nothing. But he did not say it; he simply replied, “The usual. You know how it is.”

“Yes,” said Eddie. “It must be pretty boring.” He paused, looking around the room. “Where’s the dog? Where’s Freddie de la Hay?”

William looked out of the window. “He’s …”

He broke off. What could he tell Eddie?

Eddie looked suspicious. “Yeah? He’s what? Has he kicked the bucket?”

“No, he hasn’t.” William glared at his son. “He’s serving his country!”

“Come again?” said Eddie. “A dog? Serving his country?”

“I’ve lent him to MI6,” said William softly. “They asked whether he might help them with surveillance duties. They put a transmitter in his collar and he was passed on to a group of Russians—”

He did not finish. Eddie leaped to his feet. “You lent him to MI6? Have you gone off your rocker? What happens if …”

It had already happened, and William confessed to Eddie that Freddie de la Hay had been exposed and gone missing as a result. Eddie listened with growing horror.

“You hear this, Old Man,” he said. “You go and get that dog back, you hear? You go and rescue Freddie de la Hay.”

“I don’t know—” began William.

“You just go,” shouted Eddie. “You should be ashamed of yourself! You’re not fit to own a dog, you know!”

William said nothing. He feared that Eddie was right. He was not fit, and he felt miserable about it.