Off the Tracks
an excerpt

‘Oh for crying out loud!’

Hannah sat bolt upright and immediately knew something was horribly wrong. Not only could she hear strange noises, her head was banging and lights flashing behind her eyes.

‘Shit, shit, shit’.

Fumbling at the side of the bed, she managed to find the lamp and switched it on.

It took a few seconds to acclimatize to the light and she slowly opened her eyes. She tried to locate the noise, which seemed quite close and sounded like barking, but the banging in her head was getting louder and louder, drowning all other noises out.

She took a deep breath. ‘Get a grip, gal. Get a bloody grip’.

The telephone. It was the mobile. She remembered Ian had been playing with it earlier in the evening and had changed the ringtone to ‘Who let the dogs out’. His idea of a joke. Like he ever let the dogs out in real life. Hannah had never been convinced he even liked dogs, let alone her four. He only seemed to put up with them for her.

‘Sod him’ she muttered, as she swung her legs out of the bed and looked down onto the floor. Sure enough, in the heap of yesterday’s overalls and underwear lay the mobile, weakly flashing green and barking out ‘Who let the dogs out? Woof, woof, woof’

The display read ‘Jerry’.

‘Shit’ she thought, ‘what does he want this time of night? Or morning?’

Her head throbbed and she suddenly felt very sick.

She hit the green button and put the phone up to her ear.

‘Jerry?’

‘we’ve got another one’

‘No, what. Where. I mean, still alive?’

‘Alive – just. Dumped down at the yard’

‘Shit. How did you find out?’

‘Dave rang me’

‘why didn’t he ring me?’

‘Said you’d been complaining of feeling a bit rough. Didn’t want to disturb you. I think you should come down though’.

‘OK, OK, I’m on my way. Give me about half an hour. I feel like shit.’

Breaking the connection, she threw the mobile onto the bed and rummaged in the pile of clothes, picking out yesterdays knickers and socks. ‘They’ll have to do’, she muttered to herself, quickly dressing.

She paused as she pulled on her dirty, navy blue overalls. A feeling of dread came over her. One or two cases like this a year you could expect, but four in one month? What was going on?

‘I thought I heard something’

‘Nah, don’t be daft. Go back to sleep’

‘Jim, no, I did. Listen.’

Jim rolled over onto his side so that he was facing his wife and listened. Sure enough, it sounded like somebody was opening a kennel door.

‘Bugger. I’ll go and sort ‘em out’.

‘Jim, no, ring the police. Please’.

‘I’m not losing any more bloody dogs. I’m sortin’ this out now’.

Jim sprang from the bed and lumbered from the room, his left leg showing some resistance from where he’d had his knee replacement last Spring, but otherwise moving quite quickly.

‘Be careful, love’ his wife said in a louder whisper as he left the room, worried that her once fit husband would rely on strength he no longer had.

As Hannah drove down the rough track to the stables, she pushed her head forward and looked desperately for signs of Jerry’s van. He hadn’t told her whereabouts on the yard he would be and she didn’t fancy lumbering around in the dark looking for him. The ‘yard’ as they all called it was, to give it its rightful name, Oakfield Livery Stables. What started life as a dairy farm 150 years ago was now transformed into a sprawling, 250 acre site of grazing, cross-country courses, all weather ménages and stable blocks. Three years ago, the owners, a couple called Geoff and Liz Pallory, decided to boost their already sizeable income by adding on a kennel block, consisting of 20 separate kennel spaces. And they employed Hannah to manage it. Hannah decided that she’d look in at the kennels first.

Sure enough, next to the kennels reception building she caught sight of the white van with the familiar blue RSPCA letting on the side. She swung her own van in to park parallel with it and switched the engine off, keeping the lights on full beam to give her some illumination in the pitch black.

‘In here, Han’

She heard Jerry’s deep voice booming out from the courtyard of the kennels, a u-shaped space with kennel spaces on three sides.

Her head began to pound again and the now familiar sickness started to creep up from her stomach into her throat. She saw Jerry, dressed in his work trousers and shoes, but with a non-issue sweater pulled on quickly over his t-shirt, kneeling down over a lifeless form. She found herself happy to see him. Even at this god awful hour, and under such awful circumstances, she found herself glad to see Jerry. She’d deal with what that meant at another time.

Hannah dropped to her knees beside him and took a deep breath.

‘Same as the others?’

‘Yeah. Ears cut off, legs bound. Usual stuff’.

Hannah felt the tears coming and the sickness welling up inside her.

She looked down at the lifeless form, the breath barely perceptible, and stared into the big, brown, trusting eyes of a beautiful fawn greyhound.

She heard movement behind her and turned to see Dave standing next to the reception building, dressed exactly as Hannah had seen him earlier, in his oily, ancient jeans, army surplus khaki sweater and green Hunter wellies. Even though he was only in his early 40s, his hair had turned a steely grey and clung in greasy, loose curls around his head. The grey continued down his face, weather-beaten and deeply lined from a life lived out of doors, he never managed to look healthy and ruddy, but tended towards a washed out, corpse-like colour. Hannah always described him as ‘shifty’.

He was smoking one of his trademark roll up cigarettes, despite being told numerous times that it was a fire risk at a stables, with so much hay and straw around. Dave ignored anything that didn’t suit him. He lived on site to provide out-of-hours security. He certainly liked to think that he owned the ruddy place, Hannah often thought. Dave’s security became a bit of a joke amongst the people who paid to keep their horses and dogs at the yard. A joke that was beginning to turn to anger as each passing case had developed. This was the fourth one dumped here. The first one had been dead, but the following two had pulled through – eventually.

And Dave had seen nothing. Or rather, claimed to have seen nothing. Hannah wasn’t convinced.

Hannah dropped to her knees and took a deep breath.

‘Same as the others?’

‘Yeah. Ears cut off, legs bound. Usual stuff’.

Hannah felt the tears coming and the sickness welling up inside her.

She looked down at the lifeless form, the breath barely perceptible, and stared into the big, brown, trusting eyes of a beautiful fawn greyhound.

‘I’ve managed to stop the blood flow from the ears, but she’s very weak. We need to get her into Mac’s now’.

The Covenfield Observer November 2006

Fourth Dog Found Dumped at Local Stables

RSPCA officers have condemned as barbaric the dumping of a fourth greyhound at Oakfield Livery Stables in Lower Chase Lane, Covenfield. In a series of acts that has shocked local people, greyhounds have been dumped with their ears cut off and their legs bound with wire.

Local RSPCA Officer Jerry Collins explained that greyhounds ears were tattooed shortly after birth with a code for the year of birth and the ??????. By cutting off the ears, the dogs could not be traced back to their original owners and breeders.

The first greyhound was found dead on 2 November at Oakfield Livery Stables. The subsequent two greyhounds were found alive in the same location, but with serious blood loss from their ears.

Mr Collins said everything was being done to save the latest greyhound, a four year old bitch they have nicknamed ‘Faith’ and they hoped she would make a full recovery. She is being looked after by Adam Mackie, the official RSPCA veterinary surgery for the area.

The owners of Oakfield Livery Stables, Geoff and Liz Pallory, of Craigbury Hall, Lower Wooton, bred and raced greyhounds for over 20 years before investing in the Stables. They have denied allegations that the dumping of these dogs has anything to do with their previous connections to greyhound racing, or to their luxury boarding kennels, which were built despite much controversy over the flouting of planning regulations.

‘Faith’

‘What?’

‘We’ve called her Faith. She’s gorgeous, Han. A real sweetie’

‘Anything I should know?’

‘Well, she’s about 4, she’s given birth to at least one set of puppies and she’s entire. Looks like she’s raced until quite recently – lots of small scratches and stuff. The usual. No chance of getting any of the ear tattoo – who ever cut the ears off knew exactly what they were doing.