Page 34 of The Good Boy

“Not really, if you think about it,” Rory calls over his shoulder, his pace picking up as he weaves in and out of the Draculas—Draculae—whatever. Kelly does CrossFit, and strides along like it’s a stroll in the park, but I have to break into a trot to keep up with them. “If you think about it, back in the day when humans and wolves first got together, humans used all their six senses all the time—they had to just survive. I think you lot have just got out of the habit, a bit like we dogs have got out of the habit of hunting for food. Maybe I am like an early human, still half wild.”

“Rory, you were never any wild,” I tell him. “But good theory.”

“And you talk to me a lot, Genie. I don’t think I understood the words before, but they must have gone in somewhere, becausenow I remember most of them, and a lot of the things you told me when I was a dog.”

“Not all the things, I hope,” I say, thinking about my goofy dog who would roll on his back with his tongue hanging out in a bid to get a belly rub while I told him my innermost thoughts and feelings. “Have you always known that? Like, is that knowledge built into your dog instincts?”

“No, I got it offDavid Attenborough,” he says.

“You know they won’t let you take part unless you are in costume?” a girl with jet-black hair, wearing a dark-ruby number that looks alarmingly like something Nanna Maria might wear on your average Wednesday, tells me.

“Take part in what?” I ask her with a laugh. “In this?”

“Yes—biggest-ever gathering of vampires in one place! It’s a Guinness World Record attempt.” She smiles excitedly, showing her stick-on fangs, which she has applied at something of a jaunty angle.

“You all look amazing,” Kelly tells her.

“Shouldn’t that technically be the biggest gathering of people dressed up as pretend vampires?” I ask, her smile faltering.

“OK, well, bye,” she says, and in a moment I have lost her in the crowd.

“Genie,” Kelly admonishes me like she would one of her kids. “You don’t always have to be the Christmas Grinch, especially not in August.”

“You should let people have their things,” Rory tells me sternly, slowing down to talk to me. I’ve never known Rory to be stern before so I am a little bit taken aback. It’s not that he’s angry, but more disappointed, if you know what I mean. It’s like Year 7 PE all over again.

“What do you mean?” I ask him.

“Well, when it comes to me, Genie, you are always kind. You let me have my things, like Diego. And you never make me feel bad about how much I love Diego or David Attenborough.”

“Oh god, you’re right,” I say.

“I’m just saying you should try being as nice to people as you are to your dog. Let people have their things that give them comfort, even if it’s not a squeaky pigeon with one leg. The list says most people are kind, and I know you are. But you hide it a lot, for some reason.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling chastened. I hadn’t meant to mock that girl, but she had obviously felt mocked. I suppose I had been needlessly pedantic. “I am a cow. I don’t know when it happened, but I am.”

“You’re not a cow,” Kelly says. “Sandra Michaels from the One Stop is a cow. You are defensive. You’re always worried someone is gonna hurt you, so you strike first. Luckily for you, your mates worked this out years ago.”

“Humans are far more complicated than they need to be,” Rory says, with a sigh. “Maybe you should take some pointers from David Attenborough. He seems to be very good at it.”

The incline gets hard-going, not that you would know it by the way Rory bounds effortlessly on ahead, and Kelly skips on after him, giving a thumbs-up and a compliment to every Goth she passes. Soon we are on the packed steps up to the abbey, with Rory hopping up two at a time, weaving deftly in and out of the throng. Meanwhile, I need to stop to catch my breath and hold the stitch in my side every four steps. Kelly must already be at the top by now, but whenever Rory thinks he’s got too far ahead he turns around to find me in the crowd and comesback again. And then we begin the whole process over, me two steps forward, him ten steps back. Before all this madness happened I was the one who took Rory for all his walks every day. So why aren’t I fit as a fiddle like him? Then it hits me—apart from walking him, or sometimes even driving him down to the beach, I just stand still and watch. Usually with a scarf wrapped around my head, and my hands thrust deep into my pockets if it’s cold. Sometimes even with a takeaway hot chocolate and a freshly fried doughnut, even though that always results in me getting wool fluff in my mouth or doughnut sugar in my mittens. Totally worth it, either way.

If I do move it’s to lob a tennis ball into the surf for Rory to run after, dancing and vaulting over the waves and doing all the cardiovascular exercise that his healthy little heart desires.

It never occurred to me that I should do at least some of the running.

And less of the doughnut eating.

Two life-changing revelations in one day. If human Rory keeps on dropping epiphanies at this rate then I will have evolved into a higher species by Friday.

After a full 199 steps we are finally at St. Mary’s Church, sitting low against the constantly buffeting wind and surrounded by gravestones, many of which have been worn away entirely by the elements.

Kelly is nowhere to be seen. My phone vibrates and I read a text from her.

Gone to Abbey giftshop to spend Dave’s money on fudge. Get me when you’re done. Be gentle with Miles.

“This way,” Rory says, beckoning me into the graveyard.

The noise just drops away the moment we step in among the tombstones, and I take in a deep breath of relief, leaning into the muffling whispers of the wind, and the ripples in the long grass that grows between the graves. Rory leads me along the narrow pathways in an arrow-straight beeline to the ocean-facing cliff edge. Sure enough, there is Miles sitting on a bench, looking out to sea, earpods in. It touches me to see him there, occupying the very center of the bench to dissuade strangers joining him because that is exactly what I always do. Do I look as lost and lonely to everyone else as Miles looks to me now? I have never thought about it, but right at this moment I know how Miles is feeling.

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