Page 12 of The Good Boy

“What happened to Sherlock Holmes?” I ask, a bit offended.

“A dog can never be Sherlock Holmes,” Miles says. “Too stupid and trusting. A fox, perhaps, but never a dog.”

“Wait a minute—if Matilda is Moriarty and Rory is no threat to her, why did you come out of your house at almost midnight to tell me that Rory was upsetting Matilda, thus making me late and causing me to say stupid things about wishes at precisely the wrong moment?”

“Because,” Miles huffs, “my Star Walk app told me I might see a meteor shower.”

“It would be your nerdery that ruins reality,” I say.

“And I wanted to give you your gift. Anyway,” Miles continues, “We’ll be able to learn a lot from how Rory responds to Matilda. Her opinion is the only one we can truly rely on here. She’s the only one who is really objective.Psp-psp-psp-psp.”

Soon enough Matilda’s gray head appears over the fence, then with one agile bound she hops onto the top of it and tiptoes elegantly along to where Miles is waiting.

“Hello there, Matilda,” Miles says softly, looking at her fondly as she gently nudges her head into the palm of his hand. “How are you, old girl?

“Call him over,” he whispers to me, but Rory is way ahead of him.

“Cat! That bloody cat is attacking!” Rory races almost up to the fence before stopping short of swiping distance. “Right—you, cat!” he shouts at the top of his voice. “You are very scary and I do not like you. Please get out of my garden now—please, you are making me look bad in front of Genie, cat! Also, please don’t kill me! I will bring you kibble and leave it in the hole under the fence like we agreed!”

Matilda somehow sits down on top of the fence with the grace that only cats possess, and looks down her nose at him with the world-weary expression of a feline who has lived long enough not to be surprised by anything.

“Go on now, cat! I think there are some injured birds over there you can kill, or a mouse or something!” Rory continues to shout at her. “Please go away and stop looking at me. I don’t like it! If anyone asks, I chased you away.”

Miles stops stroking Matilda, who gives Rory one more glance and hops off the fence, presenting him with her cat butt as she goes.

“Sorted her right out,” Rory says proudly, looking at me looking at him. “What?”

“It’s just that I can understand what you are saying when you are barking now,” I tell him apologetically.

“Oh well. That’s reverse psychology, that’s what that is. Let the murder cat think she’s in charge, yeah? Clever, see?”

“Fetch!” I say, throwing a ball for Rory, who races after it.

“So?” I ask Miles. “What did Matilda’s reaction tell you?”

“That your dog has somehow turned into a man,” Miles says, his frown more frowny than ever. “Well. This is a conundrum.”

“Bet your flipping life it is,” I say.

Chapter Six

“How can she not be here?” I say, standing in front of Madam Maria’s Magical Mystery Emporium, which is sandwiched between the Waxwork Museum of Horror on one side and Jenny’s Slots and Amusements on the other.Enter to discover what your future holds!the peeling painted sign proclaims.Spirits contacted, futures told, credit cards accepted.“I know I’ve got the day off for my birthday but she hasn’t, and it’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week!”

“Give her a call?” Miles suggests, as we’re engulfed by a stream of holidaymakers. “Perhaps from somewhere a bit less busy.”

“There’s nowhere less busy in Scarborough in August,” I say, with a huff, before remembering that I’m really glad Miles is in this with me. I try again.

“Thanks, though, for coming with.”

I’d had to resist the urge to hug Miles, when, having just managed to persuade Rory to climb onto the back seat, and to sit still while I put a seat belt on him, I’d found Miles in the passenger seat. Even though he was wearing, and I kid you not, a pair of clip-on sunglasses over his regular glasses. The gorgeous dork.

“What are you doing?” I’d asked him. He’d shrugged.

“Well, you still haven’t called in Kelly, so I figure I’m your next-in-line best friend. And about five minutes ago you were having a breakdown about the thought of me leaving you alone. So, I’m coming.”

Here’s the thing about me. I want people around, but I am always highly suspicious when they activelywantto be around. And I don’t mean I think they have an ulterior motive. Miles is so wholesome he makes the Dulux dog look sketchy. No, I mean that sometimes I think if a person is keen to hang out with me under any circumstances, then maybe there is something wrong with them. This is very broken thinking, I know that. But another thing about me is I prefer not to think for too long about the things about me that need fixing. So, I just brush it under the rug with all that other crap I keep there and decide to be grateful for small mercies.

“I thought you’d want out,” I’d said. “I thought you wouldn’t want to hang around the colossal mad mess that is my life.”

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