The Last Mile Home Read Online Free

a cup.’
    Enid scooped up her two dogs whose fuzz-ball tails twitched in pleasure as they gazed at her adoringly. ‘Hear that? Tea. Maybe we can wangle a biscuit or two for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, eh? Maybe even a Monte Carlo . . . num num!’ She nuzzled their shiny black button noses; then, with her garden gloves and secateurs protruding from the pocket of her skirt and a dog tucked under each arm, she headed for the house.
    Barney trailed after her with a bemused expression. He was used to his taciturn mother bursting into baby talk with Tucker and Diet. One dog was a piggy eater who loved his tucker, the other a picky eater who ate little, hence the names. Visitors observing the reserved and somewhat vague Mrs Holten with her dogs had to restrain their surprise and amusement. Barney had never been any trouble and with home help she’d scarcely had to lift a finger. Now her only child was grown she devoted herself to the dogs. Even Barney conceded she seemed to care for the dogs more than people.
    Barney had been away at boarding school when his mother had acquired the dogs so he was unsurehow she had managed to get his father’s approval for Phillip Holten detested his wife’s playthings. He didn’t consider them real dogs and wouldn’t allow them near the working dogs. He had told her they would be taken by a fox or a dingo but so far they had survived for years by rarely leaving the house or the side of their mistress. They slept in a large washing basket in the laundry and, as soon as they heard movement in the kitchen in the morning, they waited patiently on the doormat for Mrs Anderson to let them in. They then scurried down the hall to the master bedroom and waited outside the door until Phillip Holten opened the door and stumbled across them on his way to the bathroom. They then leapt onto the twin bed occupied by Enid where they were petted and whispered to until Mrs Anderson brought tea and toast. Each was given tidbits of toast and then let out into the garden from the bedroom side door.
    Enid was careful to keep them out of her husband’s way, and he simply refused to see them, speak to them or acknowledge their presence unless they irritated him more than normal. Generally he acted as though they were invisible, though Mrs Anderson had once come upon him stepping out of the library as the dogs trailed past the door in search of Enid. He’d given a swift kickwith his boot and caught Diet between the back legs and sent her screeching down the hall. Mrs Anderson turned away and busied herself with the pile of ironing she was carrying, and pretended not to see the incident or his expression of grim satisfaction.
    That evening, Barney came into the sitting room where his parents were having a pre-dinner sherry. His father was seated in the leather armchair that had belonged to his grandfather and his mother was seated on the sofa with Diet and Tucker on either side of her, their snouts resting on her lap as they eyed the Sao biscuit smeared with Peck’s Paste which she was nibbling. Barney was dressed in dark grey slacks, a pale blue dress shirt and his Kings School old boys’ tie. His hair was slicked down in place, the Brylcreem making it look darker than normal. His shoes were, as usual, highly polished. Phillip Holten had taught him that a man maintained a certain standard no matter where he was or what he was doing and that was epitomised by shined shoes. Even before setting out for a day’s hard and dirty work around Amba, the riding boots had to be polished. A small wooden box with a flip-up lid was kept by the back door and it was a ritual before breakfast for Barney to take out the Kiwi polish, smear it on the boots on his feet with a rag from the box, take thebrush, close the lid and rest his foot on its lid as he buffed the wrinkled leather to a shine.
    â€˜Dad, Mum, I’m going over to the Frenchams’ for that woolshed