Mad Dog Moonlight (10 page)

You could have heard a pin drop. Mad Dog looked round the room. Everybody was staring at Aunty, including the London people whose smiles were frozen on their faces. But Aunty only had eyes for Uncle, whose whole face had formed itself into a silent,
Whaaat …?

‘What I mean,' Aunty said, looking at him directly as if no one else mattered, ‘is that I simply can't go through with it. And I don't see why I should. What have I got waiting for me down in the Gap? My sisters don't want me, so why am I selling up? It makes no sense. I mean, if someone else can turn our beautifully restored property into a money-spinning country-house hotel, then why not have a go ourselves? You know – test the water and see how we get on. We mightn't be able to afford hot tubs and a swimming pool and things like that. But I could run the kitchen, and you could run the bar and we've just about got enough money to take on a couple of staff. We could make a go of it. I'm sure we could. I know we've never done anything like this before, but we've just about got the capital to launch ourselves, and I believe we've got the will. It'd be crazy not to go for it.
So, what d'you think?
'

Mad Dog didn't stay for the fall-out. He slipped from the room without anybody noticing, and went up to his bedroom. Here, not quite knowing what he was doing, or why, he built an enormous barricade of furniture around his bed and sat behind it in the darkness, wondering what had hit him.

Downstairs, the London people were exploding with fury, Uncle was in a state of shock, villagers were gasping and builders were rubbing their hands with glee at all the new work that would need to be done.

But, upstairs, all Mad Dog could think was that he'd been deceived. For a whole year now, Aunty had been talking about selling the house. Every time Mad Dog had moaned on about how much he hated Devil's Bridge she'd said, ‘Not much longer now.'

And he'd believed her. In good faith he'd even helped her. And now the poisoned chalice had been passed on, and it was his. The house loomed over him. The months ahead looked bleak. Who could blame him if he felt conned?

Aunty didn't seem to realise that she was conning anybody. Next day when she tried talking to Mad Dog, she used that phrase again.
Testing the water.
That was all she was doing, she said. Trying something out because she'd always regret it if she didn't.

But Mad Dog wasn't listening. As far as he was concerned, having an inheritance had plainly gone to Aunty's head. Her sisters were right when they whispered behind her back. She
was
a sly one, like they said.

It was the start of a wretched period in Mad Dog's life. The family moved back down to No. 3 but Aunty was scarcely ever there, too busy at Devil's Bridge for any life at home. She tried persuading Mad Dog to join her at weekends, but he was having none of it. What he needed, she said, was a spirit of adventure. But Mad Dog couldn't see anything remotely adventurous about turning his back on the Gap, the barge den, the harbour and the wild waters of the Rheidol in order to move up to some cretinous hotel. Adventures were all to do with waves as high as skyscrapers, wide horizons and open roads. They weren't to do with business undertakings, preparations for Christmas openings and months of organising yet more builders.

Mad Dog hated change, but refused to talk about it. He took to building barricades in his bedroom and hid behind them, trying to keep out of everybody's way.
Aunty hated his barricades because they told her, without a word being said, exactly what he felt about what she was doing. But, for all her dismantling them, Mad Dog was always building new ones and she was never around long enough to stop him.

In this manner, autumn turned to winter and Christmas approached. Aunty was up at the hotel more than she was at home and Uncle started going up there too, taking Elvis with him but leaving Mad Dog round at Luke, Hippie or Rhys's houses, where he was forced to listen to their mothers going on about what a mistake their sister was making.

As far as Christmas was concerned, Mad Dog reckoned it had been cancelled for the year. Maybe there was seasonal cheer along the rest of the Gap, but no one round at No. 3 was putting up decorations, not even a tree, and there was none of the usual smell of Christmas cooking.

Aunty was so busy up at the hotel that she didn't even have time to attend the school carol service in the big town church. And, on the last day of term, it was Uncle who collected Mad Dog outside the school gate, ready to drive him up to Devil's Bridge.

Elvis was in the car already. Its boot was packed with presents, but they made no difference to how Mad Dog felt. As they nosed into the traffic, he saw his friends watching. When they saw that he'd noticed them, they waved. But he didn't wave back.

Mad Dog was in a mood all the way up to the hotel. Santa and a sky full of reindeer couldn't have cheered him up. Neither could the smattering of snow they encountered on the way, dusting hilltops with white flakes.

They drove down through Devil's Bridge, passed the big hotel by the waterfall, looped the hairpin loops and pulled into a second hotel, which Mad Dog couldn't remember ever having seen before, which was surprising because it looked twice as friendly as the one down the road. It took him a moment to realise that they had arrived. Not until Uncle switched off the engine and opened the door, did he get it.

‘What do you think?' Uncle said.

Mad Dog eyed the hotel cautiously, unwilling to admit even to himself that it was better than he'd expected. The hotel was bigger and brighter. It seemed solid and alive. Lights blazed at every window and a floodlight illumination announced its new name, THE FALLS HOTEL. A Christmas tree stood outside the front door, hung with coloured lights and Mad Dog could see another one in the entrance hall, along with holly and ivy, glittering glass decorations, pine cones, swathes of ribbon and tall golden candles.

To say that Aunty had transformed the place was an understatement. It wasn't just that she'd turned the crumbling B & B into a proper hotel. She'd brought it to life, and its life was her own. Even sitting in the car, Mad Dog could feel her personality reaching out to greet him.

As if on cue, Aunty came out in person, a smile on her face. She led them indoors to the tree in the reception hall, where their presents were piled up. Mad Dog smelt Christmas cooking coming from the kitchen. He looked around and everywhere were rooms that he didn't remember being there before, but they must have been – it was just that they looked different now. A lounge with books and magazines. A
brand new dining room. A bar that shone with glasses and rows of bottles. A little ‘snug' where a fire was burning.

‘What do you think?' said Aunty.

Mad Dog didn't answer – not because he didn't want to but because he couldn't find the words. Uncle, on the other hand, hugged Aunty hard and said, ‘It's a miracle, that's what I think,' and Elvis ran around, wanting Christmas now, and to open all his presents.

Aunty showed him the chimney that had been swept, she said, for Santa to come down. Even Santa had been thought of! After that, Mad Dog couldn't help but soften slightly. Elvis grabbed him and he swirled him round. Then Uncle grabbed them all in his big arms, and he allowed himself to be hugged.

Next day the guests arrived, never knowing that the brightly lit hotel that greeted them had ever been some terrible old B & B. Entirely in her element, Aunty booked them in, took orders for dinner through to the kitchen ladies, Ruth and Kathleen, who were already becoming her replacement sisters, and showed her guests to their rooms. The bar buzzed with voices. The restaurant stood in readiness like a Christmas cake awaiting the first cut. The kitchen clanged with sizzling, steaming pots and pans. The whole house felt
alive
.

Aunty claimed that she was nervous, but it didn't show. She came across as the life and soul of the party, and so did Uncle, doing twenty things at the same time and making every one of them seem easy. It was as if they had been born to run a hotel. Somehow – by accident maybe – it was as if they'd stumbled upon their secret selves. From the moment the first guest arrived, they simply lit up.

It was a better Christmas than any of them had expected, especially Mad Dog, even in his wildest dreams. On Boxing Day, he awoke to find that the smattering of flakes he'd seen on the hills the day they'd arrived had turned into a full-blown Christmas card scenario. After lunch, Uncle organised a trek up the valley as far as the church at Parson's Bridge, whose outer wall was constructed around a series of ancient standing stones. On the way, he and Mad Dog had a little chat about the future. Uncle wanted Mad Dog to know that whatever happened next he and Aunty would never give up No. 3.

‘This is
business
,' he said. ‘But No. 3's our
home
. I know you've had some worries but I hope you realise that.'

Mad Dog relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the walk. But perhaps that was a mistake. Perhaps, if he'd been a bit more careful, he'd have noticed that the snow on the road was freezing over, and have trod more carefully, and then his leg wouldn't have shot out from under him and he wouldn't have broken it.

Mad Dog tried to right himself, but that only made things worse. He fell badly and pain shot through him. Everybody crowded round offering hands to help, but he couldn't get up.

‘Anyone with a mobile?' the cry went up. ‘Who's got reception?' ‘Should we phone for an ambulance?'

In the end, Aunty's Range Rover came up from the hotel and Mad Dog was taken down to Aberystwyth where he spent the rest of the day in A & E. It was midnight before he got back, x-rayed and plastered, with instructions to try – for the next few days at least – to keep his foot higher than his head.

From then onwards, Mad Dog was spoiled rotten by family and guests alike. Lying on a sofa in the lounge like a young prince, he only had to ask if he wanted anything. Books, games, chocolates – they were all his. Uncle even drove down to No. 3 and came back with his
ffon
, thinking he might find it easier to manoeuvre himself with than the unwieldy crutches the hospital had supplied.

It proved to be utterly useless in the circumstances, but Mad Dog was strangely pleased to see the old thing again. There was something comforting about the
ffon
that he'd almost forgotten about. Finding it again was like coming across an old teddy bear. It didn't help much in the manoeuvring stakes, but he took to sleeping with it in his arms. He'd long since grown out of hoping for secret messages, but he still ran his fingers over the letters on the silver topknot, spelling them out without even knowing that he was doing it.

One night, awakening from dreams of strange words that made no sense, he turned on the light to look at the word beneath his fingers. WAOOC was what the topknot said. W – A – O – O – C, just one little word, five letters long, but engraved in silver swirls with stars and flowers all round it, and suns and moons and planets.

What did it mean?
Mad Dog twisted the cane to see the word more clearly and something rose up in him, like a song. He mightn't have come across this word before, but something about it made his heart want to burst.

Mad Dog closed his eyes. His leg ached beneath the plaster. The night ahead of him had a long way to go
and he knew he'd toss and turn throughout it and wake up in the morning feeling tired and grumpy. But, just for now, the world felt sweet because a secret lay within his grasp, waiting to be found out.

Returning to the Gap after all the dramas of Christmas at the Falls Hotel was an unexpectedly flat experience. To begin with Mad Dog was the centre of attention, but it wasn't long after his friends had written on his plaster that they started forgetting him. They'd go down to the barge den without wondering if there was any way they could get him there too. Or go out to play football and never even ask if he wanted to come and watch. Just because he couldn't walk properly, they assumed he wouldn't be interested.

It was the same at school. Mad Dog was sure that people didn't mean to leave him out of things, but that was what happened. He was an invisible person, forgotten by everybody in their rush to get on with their busy lives. He took to spending his breaks and lunchtimes in the library, researching the word ‘WAOOC' on the internet. Nothing came up, and it still made no sense. It just felt like a jumble of letters.

The weeks seemed endless, dragging on and on. ‘When can I have my plaster off?' Mad Dog would ask on an almost daily basis.

‘In six weeks' time,' Aunty said to begin with. Then, ‘In five weeks' time,' then, ‘In three,' then, ‘You know when you can have it off. For God's sake stop complaining. You're nearly there. You know you are!'

By now Aunty'd done her sums, knew that Christmas had been a success and was planning to test the water
again over the Easter holidays, with a couple of winter weekend-breaks in between. Because of this, the chill was definitely back in the air as far as the sisters were concerned.

‘So you're off again, are you?' they said, as half her kitchen disappeared up to the one at Devil's Bridge. ‘You want to be careful – soon you'll have nothing left down here.'

Mad Dog worried that they were right. As Easter approached, No. 3 looked less and less like home. Not that Aunty seemed to notice. And Uncle seemed perfectly happy with the way things were, and Elvis plainly couldn't
wait
to get back to the Falls Hotel where he'd been spoiled rotten by all the guests.

Mad Dog's plaster was off by now, which gave him less spare time for brooding. But even so he must have been worrying because, the night before they moved up to the hotel for the Easter fortnight break, he had one of those nightmares that he used to have when he was a little boy, first living at No. 3.