Tableland by D. E. Harker

can’t come we’ll take Trev with us.’ No sooner had I finished saying this than there was a loud honking of a car horn outside.
    â€˜It’s the Elkes!’ shouted Trev and ran out to greet them.
    When we had all got our breath back, Joe said, ‘We had an awful job finding you in this neck of the woods. How do you like living in this part of the world?’ He made Weston sound like the Antarctic or somewhere equally remote.
    â€˜We like it very much, don’t we, Julie?’ I replied, slightly on the defensive. ‘What will you have to drink, a sherry?’ I said this loudly as I saw that Julie was about to reach for the beetroot and parsnip.
    â€˜Well, just a quickie,’ said Pam. ‘While we tell you all the Southmere news.’
    So they were not staying the night after all. Julie and I exchanged a quick look.
    We were just hearing about a case of suspected witchcraft in the road next to the Elkes, when there was a loud knock at the door. I went to see who it was and to my amazement there was a policeman standing there. I could sense Joe and Pam hanging on every word as he said, ‘Could I just have a word with you, sir?’ He came straight into the living room, ‘The fortnight is up.’
    I must have looked blank. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.
    â€˜The dog, sir, the dog.’ I still had no idea what he was talking about. He went out to the police car and, to my horror, was back in an instant with something that was all too familiar. ‘Nobody came to claim him,’ the policeman explained. ‘So he’s all yours.’ Trev hurled himself on the dog, who yelped with excitement.
    I intercepted a look between the Elkes, who rose, while Joe said, ‘Well, I can see you’re busy and we must be wending our way.’
    â€˜But you’ve only just come,’ I protested.
    â€˜Well you know how it is,’ and he hissed at me as we went through the door, ‘Pam’s allergic to dogs.’ I had forgotten.
    We passed by the manure heap, smelling as strongly as ever, and, to the accompaniment of dog howls, the Elkes promised to come and see us again some time.
    April 21st – Tuesday
    Butt was on the ‘phone at 6.30 am complaining of the noise coming from the garage, but I was quick to retort, ‘And what about that stinking manure, eh?’ and slammed down the phone.
    I remarked to Julie over my boiled egg, ‘Do you know, the more Butt complains about that dog, the more I warm to it.’
    â€˜We’re going to keep it, aren’t we, Dad?’ Trev asked, but I’m not promising anything.
    Left Julie and Trev discussing dog food, names, etc.
    Who is going to pay for the dog’s upkeep, that is the question I ask myself.
    When I returned home, was relieved to find that no serious damage had been done to the house or garden during the day. As Trev is still on holiday, he was able to take the dog for a long walk with Craig. They must have tired it out as it lay down in front of the fire this evening and looked rather doleful. It even licked my hand – it won’t get round me that easily though. Oh, no.
    Steve called by. When he saw the dog, he said, ‘You should keep gerbils, old chap – far less trouble.’
    â€˜Oh, we’re not keeping this dog, no, no, this is just a very temporary arrangement,’ I replied.
    â€˜Be that as it may, how about a game of tennis on Thursday evening at the back of the Cock and Bull?’
    â€˜Are you serious?’ I asked.
    â€˜Never more so. One racquet will be supplied, courtesy of Kevin. You needn’t wear whites. Keith and Ken will join us at the appointed hour – half past six.’
    â€˜I’m a bit rusty,’ I protested.
    â€˜No excuses – see you then, cheers,’ and he was gone.
    To be truthful, I have hardly ever held a tennis racquet in my life. Julie was rather keen at one time when we were