Mad Dog Moonlight (19 page)

The sailors put Mad Dog into the taxi. He could see that they weren't happy about it but that they felt they had no choice. Again Phaze II offered to accompany him, but Mad Dog put his hands over his ears.

‘You can still be yourself,' Phaze II said, ‘wherever you go and whatever happens. You stand and fall by your own efforts in this life, you know. Someone told me that when I was not much older than you, and I've been learning the wisdom of it ever since.'

Mad Dog hated him. He hated his smugness and his stupid words.

‘You haven't seen the last of us,' Abren promised. ‘We'll come and see you soon.
We promise you
.'

Mad Dog slammed the door in her face. He was fed up with empty promises.

At the last minute, Abren opened the taxi door again and handed something in to him. ‘You nearly forgot this,' she said, pressing his
ffon
upon him.

Mad Dog stared at it. ‘
Where did you get that from?
' he said.

‘You brought it with you,' Abren replied.

‘No I didn't,' Mad Dog said. ‘I didn't bring anything. That's not my
ffon
. Take it away.'

He tried to give it back, but Abren wouldn't have it. ‘Of course it's yours. It's certainly not ours,' she said.

‘It must be,' Mad Dog said.

‘You were waving it at us in the kitchen of No. 3.'

‘You're lying.'

‘Why would I do that? Why won't you believe me?'

Fuelled by anger, Mad Dog took the cane, broke it in half and threw it back at Abren. ‘It's not mine!' he shouted. ‘Stop playing games with me!!'

All the way home he raged about people, mountains and even walking canes playing games with him. He was still raging when the taxi driver pulled up outside the hotel. Aunty paid him and he let Mad Dog out, saying to her, ‘Rather you than me,' before driving off fast. Aunty tried to get Mad Dog indoors, but he fought like a wild dog being taken into captivity. Uncle came running out to help and Elvis stood in the background, wide-eyed with shock.

‘The boy's gone crazy!' Uncle said. ‘He needs a doctor to sedate him!'

‘He doesn't need sedating,' Aunty said. ‘Don't be ridiculous. He's simply overwrought. And exhausted. I mean, look at him. Look at the state of him. All that boy needs is his bed.'

Aunty was right. Getting Mad Dog to bed was difficult, but the minute his head hit the pillow he was asleep. He slept all night and half the next day too, and the first thing he thought about, when he awoke, wasn't what had happened over the last few days. It was his
ffon
.

Mad Dog went to check the wardrobe where it was kept, anxious to prove that it was still there. But, to his horror, it was gone. He searched under the bed. Searched all the other cupboards and drawers. Searched the living room, kitchen and bathroom, and ended up taking the whole vardo apart.

But Abren had been right, it seemed. Mad Dog mightn't understand how the stick she'd given him could have been his
ffon
. But reluctantly he had to admit it was – and then what he'd done to it finally sank in.

‘The only thing I've inherited from my past –
and I've broken it in half and thrown it away!
'

When Uncle came to see if Mad Dog was awake, he found him in bed, hidden behind a massive barricade of furniture.

‘We've got to talk,' he said, ‘so you'd better come out of there. I'll tell your aunty you're awake.'

She left the kitchen to Ruth and Kathleen, and came over straight away. Together she and Uncle put back all the furniture, leaving Mad Dog exposed. Elvis came in from playing, as if he didn't want to miss out.
Mad Dog sat on his bed, watching them getting ready for the big showdown.

‘Look, I'm sorry. All right?' he said.

‘Oh yes? What for?' Uncle replied. ‘Sorry for running off, or sorry for being sent back?'

Mad Dog had never seen Uncle more angry, even when he'd called him a child-thief. He wasn't shouting this time, and he didn't go stomping off, but this was worse somehow. There was something worn about him, as if he'd had enough.
Really
had enough.

‘I'm sorry for upsetting you,' Mad Dog said.

‘
Upsetting us?
' Uncle said, giving a short laugh. ‘Is that what you call it?'

Aunty frowned at him, as if to say
enough
. ‘Why did you do it?' she said. ‘Why did you go off?'

Mad Dog shrugged.

‘Especially after you promised,' Uncle chipped in.

‘When did I do that?' Mad Dog said.

‘You promised years ago. On the family Bible,' Uncle said.

Mad Dog flared up. ‘That's rich,' he said, ignoring Uncle but looking directly at Aunty. ‘Am I the only one who breaks their promises?
I think not!
'

Aunty flushed. ‘If you're talking about No. 3 –' she began.

‘I'm talking about you promising that we'd move back down there in the autumn!' Mad Dog shouted at her, glaring as if to say
get out of that
.

Uncle took a deep breath and said, ‘God give me strength!' He also said – slowly so that even a fool would understand it – that sometimes, with the best will in the world, certain promises did have to be broken.

‘And the sale of No. 3 is one of those times,' he said. ‘It's for your good, although you don't seem to be able to see it. We're not just thinking of ourselves here. If we can find a purchaser for No. 3, then we can afford all the little extras that we don't have at the moment – including building ourselves a family apartment at the back of the hotel.'

‘Why do we need that?' Mad Dog said.

‘Well, it's obvious. We can't go on for ever working out of a caravan!' Uncle said.

‘What's wrong with caravans?' Mad Dog said. He could feel his temper rising to dangerous levels.

‘Are you kidding me?' said Uncle. ‘The way we're living now we couldn't even swing a cat!'

‘Oh, is that right?' Mad Dog said. ‘Well, my parents' van wasn't half this size
but it was good enough for us!!
'

He didn't yell, but he didn't have to. Uncle and Aunty stared at him, their surprise obvious because never, in all their years together, had he mentioned anything about his old life.

‘You didn't tell us your parents lived in a van,' Aunty said.

‘Why should I tell you anything? I don't trust you,' Mad Dog said.

For the rest of the day, he refused to say another thing. He also refused to get off his bed except to go to the toilet and fetch his meals. Every time Aunty came anywhere near him, he glared at her and, when she told him that she loved him, he called her
traitor
.

That night in bed, Mad Dog heard Aunty crying. ‘I know, I know,' he heard her say. ‘I've brought this on myself. I never should have put No. 3 on the market
without discussing it with all of us. You warned me there'd be trouble, but I wouldn't listen. I've done it again, haven't I? Rushed in without thinking. It's what I always do. But what's done is done, and I can't put it right.'

Next morning there were no signs of tears. Uncle drove down to work in Aberystwyth as usual, and Aunty said she'd got a business to run. Elvis went out to play with his friends and Mad Dog got on the PlayStation and zapped aliens as if his life depended upon it.

But a decision hung over them all, and Mad Dog knew it. No. 3 was still for sale, and he spent long hours on his own, wondering what he really wanted and whether it was fair to expect Aunty to rein in her dreams just because of him.

She was good at what she did, and quite plainly loved it. Uncle too. Mad Dog remembered, when they first started out, thinking that they'd stumbled upon their secret selves. Wasn't that exactly what he wanted for himself – and didn't everybody deserve a thing like that?

‘Does it really matter where we live?' he asked himself. ‘Surely, like Phaze II said, I can be my real self anywhere.'

This was something that he wrestled with for days. When people spoke to him, he didn't answer, but remained as blank as a plain piece of paper. One day Aunty came to him and said, ‘Those terrible deep silences that you go into sometimes – what exactly happens? Where do you go?'

Mad Dog shrugged. He knew what she was on about, but didn't want to talk about it. ‘Why do you
want to know?' he said.

‘Because I want to go there too,' Aunty answered. ‘I can see you struggling and I want to be there for you. You don't have to do this on your own, you know. I
can
be trusted, no matter what you think. I want to help you – surely you know that?'

For a horrible moment Mad Dog thought she was going to hug him – but then he was saved by Kathleen in the kitchen calling for assistance. After Aunty had gone, though, he thought about what she'd said. Where
did
he go when those terrible deep silences took over? They'd been going on for years now, but he didn't have a clue, if he was honest with himself.

A couple of evenings later, Mad Dog came across Aunty out in the garden stitching labels on to his new school uniform. It was beginning to get dark. Bats were circling the garden and pigeons cooing down in the wood. Mad Dog wished that he could forgive Aunty sufficiently to talk to her, but realised that, even if he could, he wouldn't know quite what to say.

In any case, Uncle got in first. He came across the lawn in high old spirits, busy with secret preparations for Aunty's birthday next day, which was a significant one because it had an 0 in it – though whether there was a 3 in front of it, or a 4, 5 or 6, Mad Dog didn't know.

Aunty called Uncle over and Mad Dog slipped away. Just as he was entering the hotel, he heard Aunty's clear voice carrying across the garden. It wasn't her birthday they were talking about. Once again, it was him.

‘I've been telling you for years that there's a story in that boy, waiting to come out,' Aunty was saying.
‘And something's happening at long last. I can feel him changing. Feel something stirring up in him. Feel it coming to a head. I want to be there for him, but he doesn't want me. In fact, I think he hates me.'

Next day, being Aunty's birthday, Mad Dog did his best to prove that whatever he felt it wasn't hate. Maybe Aunty's sisters had the same idea, because they all turned up – the entire lot of them, along with an assortment of husbands, boyfriends and all the children, including Luke, Rhys and Hippie. For once they were one big happy family, eating lunch together round a big table laid in the conservatory because the dining room wasn't big enough.

Aunty lapped up all the attention, opening a mountain of presents and looking around at her family as if their being there, after all their fallingsout, was the best present of all. After they'd finished eating, she tried helping to clear up. But her sisters wouldn't let her.

‘We'll do that,' they said. ‘You're always working. Now's your chance to sit back and relax.'

Aunty did just that. She took a little, unheard-of afternoon nap and awoke expecting to find the hotel falling apart without her. But, when she came out of the vardo, she found a massive picnic hamper being packed into the Range Rover, and the family poring over a series of maps.

‘Ah, you're awake at last. Where do you want to go?' the sisters said.

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' Aunty replied.

‘We're talking about your birthday picnic,' the sisters said.

Aunty started laughing, and everybody else laughed too. ‘Are you serious?' Aunty said. ‘I can't go off on picnics. I've got a hotel to run.'

Uncle appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Ruth and Kathleen say you only get in the way at the best of times,' he said.

‘You're lying – they never said that!' Aunty replied.

‘Even if he's lying, it's still your birthday, and we can manage without you for one evening,' Ruth and Kathleen said, coming out behind him. ‘So, where are you going?'

Aunty thought about it for a moment, then said, ‘All right, then, it's Plynlimon. I'd like to have a picnic on Plynlimon.'

Everybody started rushing about, too busy packing the cars to notice Mad Dog standing in a state of shock, his face bright red. Why had Aunty said it. Why Plynlimon? Had she said it for a reason? Or had she said it off the top of her head? All around him, cars were being filled with blankets, cushions, fold-up chairs, barbecue equipment, cricket sets, tennis rackets, towels, swimming gear, maps, water containers, crates of beer – and the birthday cake.

Mad Dog tried to join in, making it look as if he was helping. But his brain was on another planet. ‘Do I
have
to go?' he said when all the cars were packed and everyone was ready to go.

‘How could you even
ask
that?' Uncle said. ‘It's what your aunty wants, and it's her birthday, so of course you do.'

They drove up in convoy. It was a perfect day for picnicking. Mad Dog tried not to think about where they were going, but kept his mind fixed on the smell of ripe blackberries and the sun on his face. When the mountain did come to mind, he told himself it would be different this time. Plynlimon wouldn't do anything weird to him with all these people around. The knack was to stay close to them and not go wandering off.

Occasionally Mad Dog caught glimpses of the sunlit Rheidol, and once he saw a red kite soaring in the bright sunshine – a perfect picture of freedom. They reached Ponterwyd, and Uncle turned on to the main pass road and started snaking up it. He didn't take the Nant y Moch turn, much to Mad Dog's surprise, but took the back route that the Ingram sisters had shown him. This involved so many twists and turns that Aunty, who was meant to be map-reading, threw up her hands in horror and gave up.