K-9 Read Online Free Page B

did,’ Darkus replied.
    ‘Not well enough,’ declared his stepdad and lunged at Wilbur, who dodged round him and headed off into the living room. ‘Come back here, you infernal beast!’
    ‘Clive, really . . .’ Jackie reasoned.
    Wilbur sat patiently, confused, on the Persian rug. Clive stared him down from the doorway of the kitchen. Darkus walked over to console the dog, until a sudden bang, like a gunshot, echoed from the street outside. Wilbur jumped, then froze on the spot.
    ‘It’s OK, boy, it’s only a car backfiring,’ Darkus deduced, then noticed a small, yellow puddle forming under Wilbur’s back legs. ‘Oh no . . .’
    The puddle rapidly spread out, forming a large, golden circle, penetrating the carpet fibres and soaking into the Persian rug.
    ‘Oh, now you’ve done it . . .’ Clive murmured. ‘That rug has been in the Palmer family since the Battle of Khartoum!’ He jabbed his hand towards the ceiling. ‘Out!’
    Clive stormed towards the dog until Wilbur’s lips rolled back and he snarled dangerously, displaying both rows of teeth.
    Clive reared up and retreated, turning to Jackie for support. ‘That dog,’ he stammered, ‘is to be out of this house by noon tomorrow. Or I’m checking into the Premier Inn. Permanently .’ Clive stamped his Adidas slip-on sandal emphatically. ‘It’s him or me.’
    Darkus knew who he’d prefer, but, in spite of everything, his mother would remain loyal to the man she’d married.
    Darkus went to Wilbur’s side, but recoiled when the German shepherd flinched, snarled in his direction and barked twice – shocking Darkus who fell back on his elbows. Then the dog turned tail and ran back through the kitchen door, towards the shed.
    Darkus looked to his mother with tears welling up in his eyes. ‘It’s not his fault.’
    ‘It’s for the best, darling,’ she replied softly. ‘It just hasn’t . . . worked out.’
    ‘It’s not fair,’ Darkus whispered defiantly.
    Jackie went to hug him, but Darkus shrugged her off then turned and followed Wilbur through the back door into the falling darkness. Jackie watched him go, looking like a piece of her heart had been torn out.
    Wilbur sat in the corner of the garden, forlorn, then wagged his tail once as Darkus cautiously went to join him. Wilbur’s ears were flat against his head; his brow furrowed as if to say he was truly sorry. Darkus slowly extended his hand and patted him. Wilbur wagged his tail once more.
    ‘What are we going to do?’ Darkus whispered to him.
    Wilbur looked up at him with tired grey eyes, unable to provide any answers.
    ‘I’ll come and visit you,’ said Darkus, feeling his own eyes well up again. He knew it wasn’t entirely rational, but he couldn’t help it. Since his father had effectively disappeared for the second time, Wilbur was the only person he really talked to. Not that Wilbur was equipped to give him any advice, but Darkus found he could have better conversations with him, and discover more about himself, than he could by talking to anyone else.
    As they sat on the grass they both felt the chill creep in. They could hear Clive talking to the TV while Jackie did the washing-up – routinely checking on Darkus through the kitchen window. Darkus waited as long as possible, then got to his feet. Wilbur dutifully followed his master through the back door into the house. Jackie handed Darkus a plate of jam sandwiches, which he carried upstairs with Wilbur in tow.
    In the privacy of his bedroom, Darkus gave his dog a triangle, then took one for himself. Wilbur consumed his in one bite, then looked up at his master, pleading for another. Darkus obliged, then went to his desk, took out the secure phone and scrolled to the name: Uncle Bill . Seeing Wilbur begging, Darkus gave him another two triangles, then pressed ‘Dial’.
    After two rings, a thick Scottish voice answered: ‘Aye?’
    ‘Uncle Bill? It’s Darkus here.’
    ‘A’right, Darkus. Only it’s nae