“‘He’?” says Corinne, and Ree gives her a “Don’t ask” look.
“And then she came for a viewing and didn’t even want him, yet this post is still here! Why hasn’t she taken it down? I know why.” Sally goes on without drawing breath. “She’s a fraud through and through. There’s not anounceof truthfulness in her. Are there any photos of heractualnew house? No! The Stables and Bussow Court aren’t as pretty and chocolate-box-villagey as Shukes and the Green, so she’s happy for everyone to believe she lives in a house that’s nothing to do with her and never was. Look at this collage of lies!”
Sally holds Corinne’s phone up so everyone can see. “Nearly all the pictures are of her, Alastair, and Tess hugging each other and grinning as if they’re the happiest family in the world. You’d think they do nothing but trot around the world together having fun: ice-skating, bramble picking, baking, sunbathing in a field. Not screaming, though—never screaming vitriol at each other, which is what they do almost daily in real life. Every caption is just…nauseatingly dishonest. ‘Love my family,’ ‘Blessed with the best,’ ‘So proud of my little squad.’ Ugh, I thought I couldn’t loathe her more, but—”
“Tell me about the screaming,” Corinne says.
“That can wait,” says Mark. “Deciding what we’re going to do takes priority. I’ll put my cards on the table: I think we should go back. Home,” he clarifies.
Sally’s mouth has dropped open. “Mark, we only left thereyesterday. Because it wasn’t and isn’t safe to be in Swaffham Tilney at the moment. Remember?”
“I gave it some thought overnight and this morning,” he says.“Champ didn’t bite Tess, and we can prove it. I mean, I know no one keeps dental records for dogs, but—”
“I’m not taking Champ back,” Sally tells him. “No way. You can all go if you want, but Champ and I stay here.”
“For how long, Sal?” Mark sighs. “Please hear me out, okay? I don’t know exactly how it would work. I know nothing about the…dog court system, or whatever it’s called, but I’m reasonably confident we can assemble solid proof that convinces everyone who matters—lawyers, the police—that Champ can’t have done that to Tess. All it’d take is an imprint of his teeth marks to… No, don’t interrupt me. I’ve uprooted my existence and come with you, almost no questions asked—”
“Uprooted your existence?” Ree laughs. “Dad, I mean… Peace and love, but all you’ve done is come to the Lake District for a night.”
“So far, yes.” Mark glares at her. “That’s my whole point. I’ve got a job, Ree. Mum’s got a job. We can’t just go off on an exciting…Champ-rescuing adventure with no end in sight.”
Exciting? Is he insane?Sally wonders.
“Look, there’s never going to be a massive manhunt for a dog that goes AWOL, is there?” he goes on. “No one cares enough to spend precious resources on something like that. It’s just not going to be a high priority for the police—which means there’s not likely to be a big, dramatic showdown anytime soon, after which it’ll all be over. If we choose to remain unfindable, no one’s going to come looking. So, what, we have to stay away from home and our jobs forever? Well, we can’t—we just can’t. And even if we wait it out for weeks or months, the minute we go back, it’ll all start up again.The police will come knocking and try to carry on where they left off, soon as they hear from the Gaveys that the Lamberts are back in Bussow Court. So, the way I see it is let’s just go home and tackle it. I think we’ve got a pretty good chance—”
“Pretty good isn’t enough for Sally,” Corinne tells him.
Sally doesn’t want to go back to the Hayloft. Not soon, and maybe not at all. It has never felt like home in the way Shukes did and still does, though she’s been happy to kid herself and hope that will change. The Hayloft doesn’t have a nickname, doesn’t feel like a member of the Lambert family—and that’s at least 50 percent Lesley Gavey’s fault. The Gaveys moved into Bussow Court three days after the Lamberts.
If only Sally had known…but for once, the village gossip network failed to deliver. News of who had bought the Stables didn’t reach Sally in time, and when she finally found out, it was too late. It was scant consolation that Lesley Gavey was even more appalled: The last thing she’d expected was to end up living so close to Sally, whom she associated only with misery and disappointment. She even told Sally as much: “Why do you think I moved to this end of the village?” she hissed. “To be far away from you and your stifling, tiny house!” As if that weren’t offensive enough, Lesley grabbed Sally’s arm, leaned in, and said, “I’m afraid you and I are never going to be friends, Sally. I hope you understand that and can come to terms with it.”
“Can I tell you my best suggestion of a plan?” says Corinne. “Mine doesn’t rely on guesswork or the reasonableness of other people.”
“I want to hear it,” says Ree. Toby nods.
“Okay, so…a question.” Corinne pushes her plate away and folds her arms. “Is Champ microchipped?”
Sally is all ready to answer when she happens to glance down at Corinne’s phone, which she’s been clutching all this time. She makes a strangled noise, like a scream that’s fallen into a thresher.
“What’s wrong, Sal?” Mark asks.
Sally holds up the phone, her hand shaking. “The message you just got,” she manages to say. “It’s from her. You were lying,” she snaps at Corinne. “Itwasabout Champ. It’s from Lesley Gavey.”
20
The convention, in circumstances such as these, is to make you wait a little longer before revealing that, although Corinne Sullivan lied about the message she received, she did not, in fact, betray Champ or Mum. I’m not going to delay in reassuring you, though, because Corinne was with the Lamberts all the way and would never have dreamed of going over to the Gaveys’ side.
You have to be loyal to your people, or else what does anything matter? Corinne knows this. I know it. That’s why I feel worse and worse, the further into the story I get, about the important thing I’m not telling you, and the name I’m desperate to mention but can’t. If you recall, it’s the name of someone who means the world to me, someone who’s cared for me when I’ve been ill (once I even vomited on her and she didn’t mind) and loved me with all her heart from the first day we met. And I have always reciprocated every ounce and inch of that love. That’s why I’ve decided to give you a clue, as a tribute to the special person whose name I can’t yet say.
The clue is: SIBLING.
Perhaps, now I’ve said all that, you’ll understand why the thing I abhor most about the Gaveys is not the way they’ve treated us Lamberts but that they aren’t even kind and loyal to other Gaveys.(Remember the screaming Corinne asked about over breakfast, before Dad changed the subject?) And there are only three of them, so it shouldn’t be too hard for them to be nice to each other; it’s not as if there are thousands of Gaveys stretching as far as the eye can see, which might overextend anyone’s magnanimity.
I wish I’d spoken up and said this (a point I’ve heard no one else make so far) on the way to the boarding kennels in Weybourne, Norfolk, later that day. It would have been the perfect opportunity, since Mum and Corinne spent most of the journey listing everything they could think of that was wrong with the Gaveys, and Lesley in particular.
Dad kept trying to interrupt. After hearing Corinne’s explanation of why there was a message from the enemy on her phone, we were all satisfied that Corinne wasn’t a traitor, but Dad still wanted her to explain her longer-term plan for Champ and justify her short-term one for all of us. Everyone shouted him down. Even Toby couldn’t wait to hear about Lesley Gavey and the swimming pool timetable, once Corinne, in a voice laced with scandal, had trailed it as a gossip agenda item.
Mum hadn’t heard the story and was keen to be filled in, so, as she drove us along the A685 through Kirkby Stephen, Corinne launched in:
