Selby Sorcerer (7 page)

‘It sounds very nice,’ Mrs Trifle said, ‘but we’re quite happy living the way that we do. Why do you ask?’

‘Because I have a wonderful business opportunity and I think you’re the perfect person for the job.’

‘I already have a job. I’m the mayor of Bogusville.’

‘This is the opportunity of a lifetime and you can do it in your spare time. You’ll make people happy and you’ll get rich.’

‘Now I know what you’re on about,’ Mrs Trifle said, wagging a finger at Madame Mascara. ‘You want me to go door to door selling your cosmetics, don’t you?’

‘It’s not about
selling,’
Madame Mascara said. ‘It’s about friendship. It’s about love. It’s about joy. It’s about hiding pimples, getting rid of unwanted hair, changing whole personalities — making people beautiful. Feast your eyes on these.’

Selby watched as the woman put a stack of House of Mascara Cosmetics Kits on the Trifles’ coffee table.

‘Wonderful products,’ Madame Mascara said. ‘Eye cream, toner, foundation, skin cleanser, eyeliner and much much more.’

Madame Mascara put a dab of moisturiser on Mrs Trifle’s hand. ‘There’s lipstick and nail polish in wonderful colours like black, brown and frog’s bottom green. And everything has been tested so no one will be allergic to it. Look, your hand is already beginning to look like it did when you were ten years old.’

‘I hope not,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘When I was ten I chewed my fingernails and my hands looked horrible.’

‘Every day I get letters from people whose lives have been changed by these marvellous products,’ Madame Mascara said. ‘When can you start?’

‘I’m sorry but I really don’t think I have the time.’

‘Then
make
time. What’s wrong with right now?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. I’ve just worked all day, cleaned the house, made dinner and now I’m off to an urgent council meeting.’

‘Then start tomorrow,’ Madame Mascara said, getting up to go. ‘It’s Saturday. You can spend the weekend selling House of Mascara Cosmetics Kits.’

‘I can’t. I’m too busy, even on the weekends.’

‘Try to be positive,’ Madame Mascara said.

‘No, I really can’t sell your products.’

‘Hasty decisions are always wrong,’ Madame Mascara said. ‘Sleep on it.’

‘I’m telling you that I absolutely can’t —’

‘Shhhh,’ Madame Mascara said, putting a
finger on Mrs Trifle’s lips. ‘Never say can’t. Tomorrow.’

Madame Mascara was out the door and into her limousine in a flash.

‘Madame M!’ Mrs Trifle called. ‘Griselda! Your kits! Come back!’

The second the Trifles were out the door, Selby opened one of the House of Mascara Cosmetics Kits.

‘That woman is
soooo
pushy!’ he thought. ‘And Mrs Trifle is too polite. Hmmm, look at allthese bottles and jars and tubes. They are kinda cute.’

Selby took the top off a perfume bottle and sniffed it.

‘I wonder if anyone makes cosmetics for dogs. I’d love one of these little kits. Let’s see: moisturiser, blusher, lippy, hair remover — I’d need a bigger tube than that. Hmmm, what’s this?’

Selby opened a plastic bag and took out a notepad of rainbow-coloured paper that said
House of Mascara Cosmetics
at the top. He gave it a sniff.

‘It smells even better than the scent in those little bottles,’ he thought, rubbing his paw on it.

Selby put everything away neatly and lay curled up on the carpet. He had his perfumed paw next to his nose so he could sniff it while watching the latest episode of
Roxanna the Sorcerer,
his favourite TV sorcery show.

‘I just love that girl,’ he thought. ‘All she has to do is wave that wand and everyone has to do what she says. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to do that?’

The Trifles arrived back just as the program
was ending. Selby hit the OFF button on the controls just as Dr and Mrs Trifle came through the door.

‘Hi there, Selby-welby,’ Mrs Trifle said, giving him a good pat. ‘What a lucky dog you are. While some of us
a-choo!,
work hard all
a-choo!,
day, you just take it easy.’

‘Are you coming down with a cold or something?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘A-choo!,
I don’t know,’ Mrs Trifle said, taking out a handkerchief.
‘A-choo!,
I don’t feel sick or anything.’

‘Allergy,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Something in the air.’

‘You’re not
a-a-a-choo!,
sneezing,’ Mrs Trifle said, blowing her nose. ‘But I guess that doesn’t mean anything. Some people are allergic to some things when other people aren’t.’

The next morning Dr and Mrs Trifle were having breakfast in the kitchen while Selby lay on the lounge room floor.

‘That allergy of yours didn’t last long,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Two sneezes and you were off to sleep.’

‘Yes, I’ll probably never know what I was allergic to. Oh bother, I’d completely forgotten
about those silly cosmetic kits. I really don’t want to sell them.’

‘Then don’t,’ Dr Trifle said.

Dr Trifle looked at the cosmetics kits and then leant down to pat Selby.

‘You’ll just have to
a-choo!
stand up to her,’ he said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I said you’ll just have to
a-choo!
stand up to her.’

‘That’s what I thought you said. You seem to be developing an allergy too.’

‘Me?
A-choo!
I guess you’re right. There’s
a-choo!
something over
a-choo!
here that’s making me … it’s making me …
a-choo!’

‘ Sneeze,’ Mrs Trifle said, finishing her husband’s sentence. ‘Oh, no,
a-choo!,
here comes Madame Mascara.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Madame Mascara said as she came through the door. ‘I see that you’ve decided to sell the kits. Good decision.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Mrs Trifle said firmly. ‘Speaking of seeing
a-choo!
I can barely see at all.
A-choo!
Could you please
a-choo!
hand me a tissue?’

‘What’s wrong with you two?’ Madame Mascara said.

‘We seem to be allergic to something,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it was something in your kits.’

‘Impossible!’ Madame Mascara cried, picking up the kits. ‘All of my products have been tested. There’s nothing in them that would make anyone sneeze or scratch. It’s probably that dog of yours that’s doing it. Lots of people are allergic to dogs.’

‘But we’ve never been allergic to him before now.’

‘That doesn’t mean a thing. People can suddenly get allergies,’ Madame Mascara said. ‘I’d get rid of your dog if I were you. Phew. He is a bit on the nose, if you ask me. Anyway, if you change your mind about selling these lovely cosmetics kits, give me a tinkle. My new phone number’s on this beautiful rainbow-coloured notepad,’ she added, peeling off a sheet and leaving it on the coffee table.

‘Get rid of me?’ Selby thought, after Madame Mascara had left. ‘On the nose? I’m a dog, for heaven’s sake, not a bouquet of flowers.’

‘Get rid of Selby?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Well, no, I don’t think so.’

‘It is true,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘that people can develop allergies to things that had never bothered them before.’

‘You mean, like Selby?’

‘Well, we don’t know, do we?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Let’s do a scientific test. Come back into the kitchen.’

Dr and Mrs Trifle stood in the kitchen for a few minutes and slowly their sneezing eased and their eyes stopped running.

‘Okay now,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘come here, Selby. Come on, boy.’

‘This is silly,’ Selby thought, ‘but I may as well go along with it.’

Selby got up and walked over to the Trifles. They both bent down and began patting him.

‘You see?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It can’t be him.
A-choo!’

‘What did you
a-choo!
say?’

‘I said that it
a-choo!
can’t possibly
a-choo!
be him.’

‘That’s what I thought you said. But it has
a-choo!,
to be him! What else could it be? We’ve suddenly
a-choo!,
become allergic to Selby.’

‘Well, we’re not
a-choo!
getting rid of him,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Goodness, no,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘But we can’t live with him either. If we try to pat him or cuddle him or even just let him put his head in our laps then we’ll be miserable.’

‘I suppose we could keep him outdoors all the time,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Some people make their dogs stay outside. Oh, Selby,
a-choo!
you don’t know how sad this makes me feel.’

‘And you don’t know how sad it makes
me
feel,’ Selby thought. ‘I’m not going to live outdoors. I’d never get to watch TV or answer my emails — or anything! Besides, I want to stay here with the Trifles.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Maybe he could live with Jetty and the boys. Ever since Crusher died that house has needed a dog.’

‘But Willy and Billy haven’t always been good to him.’

‘That’s a point,’ Dr Trifle said, opening the door to the backyard. ‘Come along now, Selby. You’d better get used to living outdoors.’

Selby walked out the door and listened to it close behind him — maybe for the last time in his life.

‘This is awful,’ Selby thought as he blinked back a tear. ‘I’ve been banished from my own home.’

All evening, Selby stood outside the back door watching the Trifles through the glass. Occasionally they’d come to the door and wave and then go back to what they were doing.

‘I can’t stand this,’ he thought, as the Trifles went off to bed. ‘I’ll have to go away forever. It’s the most merciful thing for everyone.’

Selby started through the hole in the back fence.

‘Goodbye, Dr and Mrs Trifle,’ he said, blowing a kiss in the direction of the house.

Selby stopped and went back into the backyard.

‘I’d better leave them a note or they’ll never know why I left,’ he thought. ‘And I do so very much want to say goodbye.’

Selby quietly opened the back door and went inside. He picked up the piece of note paper and a pen from the coffee table.

‘What can I say?’ he said. ‘How does this sound?’

By the time Selby finished writing the note, there were tears streaming down his face. He left the note just inside the door and went outside again. Once again he was about to go through the fence when he turned for one last look at the house where he’d lived for so many happy years. He saw Dr Trifle come into the lounge room and pick up the note. Mrs Trifle was standing beside him.

‘I can’t go now,’ he thought, ‘I just have to know what they’ll do when they know I can talk.’

Selby crept closer and listened below the window.

‘What is it?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘A note. It’s on some of Madame Mascara’s note paper. I wonder what she wants.’

‘Read it to me.’

Selby could see tears form in Dr Trifle’s eyes as he began reading his note.

‘It says,
Dear Dr and Mrs Trifle, You are the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.
Isn’t that sweet of her.
I hope you’ll forgive me but I will
a-choo!
leave you in peace from now on.
A-choo!
I’m sorry about any
a-choo!
inconvenience I’ve
a-choo! a-choo!
caused you.
There’s that allergy again,’ Dr Trifle said, wiping his eyes. ‘Now my eyes are so blurry I can’t even read.’

‘Oh, no,’ Selby thought, ‘they’re so allergic to me that they can’t even read my note!’

‘Give me that,’ Mrs Trifle said, taking the note. ‘Let’s
a-choo!
see what it says. Where were
a-choo!
you up to? Okay,
a-choo! In case you
a-choo!
don’t know
a-choo!
who is writing this note, it’s me
… Pass me a tissue, will you, dear?’ Mrs Trifle said, putting down the note.

‘I think we’re out of tissues,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘I’ll look in the bedroom,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘No, I think there are some in the workroom,’ Dr Trifle said.

Selby watched as Dr and Mrs Trifle disappeared in different directions.

‘Now hang on!’ Selby thought. ‘What if it’s not
me
they’re allergic to but the perfume in that stupid note paper?! I rubbed it on my paw,’ he added, sniffing his paw. ‘I can still smell it. That must be it!’ Selby’s mind raced. ‘I think this calls for some action!’