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Chapter Thirty Five

Gareth

Gareth reached the front door of not-dad's house and glanced around.

The sight of the blue Bently on the driveway showed that Arseny had arrived home first, having finally driven around the morris dancers. Gareth had watched as not-dad's Bentley had sped off in a squeal of tire smoke before he had followed cautiously behind.

Gareth cautiously opened the front door, hoping to get inside and head to his room unseen.

"Gareth!"

No such luck.

Gareth sighed as he stepped over the threshold to see Arseny swaggering out of the library. He resisted the urge to make a crack like did you enjoy the morris dancers? and instead rolled his eyes and waited for whatever not-dad had to say.

"You missed my announcement," Arseny said, fixing Gareth what was probably supposed to be a friendly smile.

"Oh?"

"I'm standing as the local council candidate, for the Liberal Democrats. I plan to make this broader announcement at the village festival, of which I'm being a benefactor."

"I see."

"That's quite an achievement, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I must be off, I have a lot of important things to do."

Gareth watched as not-dad sauntered off before hurrying upstairs to his bedroom. He felt thankful not-dad had only wanted to boast in a bizarrely short conversation and not corner him for too long. Gareth threw himself down on the bed and wondered whether to call Oliver.

He thumbed his phone and instead sent a short text to Frank.

Hey, I'm ok. Not-dad is doing something political and is still being an arsehole, but he hasn't shot me

Gareth sent the text off before cringing at how silly it looked. He then hit Oliver's number and waited for the Collie to pick up.

"Hello?" Oliver said.

"Hey, so I'm still alive and I've not been arrested," Gareth explained.

"That's good," Oliver replied.

"However, I did get caught by Ralph," Gareth continued.

"Oh man! Did hot sex happen?"

"No," Gareth sighed. "Frank and Marcus showed up too, and before you ask nothing happened, they didn't call the police or anything. Instead, they took me to the shrieking shack."

"What?"

"Yeah, they know not-dad is planning something with the place, and there is still someone living there. She's an old vixen."

"An old vixen?" Oliver repeated.

"Yeah, and she had a gun," Gareth explained.

"What kind?"

"I reckon it was an AK47 or an M16," Gareth replied, knowing he was bending the truth for dramatic effect.

It makes the story more interesting.

"Fucking hell," Oliver breathed. "If I'd known that I wouldn't have snuck into the garden of that house."

Man that Collie is so gullible!

"Yeah," Gareth continued. "Anyway, we enlisted her to help take down not-dad. Apparently he'd fooled her into thinking he was preserving the house. Arseny turned up and Marcus and I had to hide. Man, not-dad was so pissed off when he saw Frank there and he almost ran over the morris dancers."

"Wow, he sounds like he's lost it."

"And then it gets even worse," Gareth sighed. "He's running for the local counsellor elections."

"Good grief."

"Yeah, then I bet he wants to become an MP, and then Prime Minister. Fuck me, we're screwed if not-dad comes to power," Gareth said as a shiver ran down his spine.

"I agree, no offense."

"Why would I take offense?" Gareth sighed.

"Good point, if he's not-dad."

"I haven't spoken to my real dad in years," Gareth muttered.

"Did Arseny say what he was up to next?" Oliver asked.

"Good question, he said he was busy with something, but he didn't elaborate what it was," Gareth replied, scratching his muzzle. "I'd best go sneak about his study."

"Okay, good luck. Ya know, I'm feeling tired after work so I might go to sleep."

"Fine, I'll keep you updated."

Gareth hung up and crept out of his room. The house seemed quiet and there was no sign of his mother or not-dad anywhere.

He hurried quickly and silently down the stairs, wondering whether to listen to not-dad at the window or from inside the house.

The evening felt cooler compared to the previous few days so Gareth deduced that Arseny would probably have the study window closed.

Inside the house it is then.

Gareth crept down the hallway and stood outside not-dad's study door. There was no convenient glass around to press to the door itself, so Gareth cocked an ear and leaned as close to the doorframe as he dared.

Arseny was talking frantically, no doubt to someone on his mobile or desk phone.

"Frankly this is infuriating! I really would like to murder someone."

Murder?

Gareth let out an audible gulp.

"Anyway, I secured my position. I'm definitely running here locally, that should smooth the process, even if the old bat doesn't want to sell."

The word murder was still ringing in Gareth's ears.

He pulled away from the door and sprinted silently up the stairs.

Should I call the police?

Gareth knew he had no definite proof of who or what Arseny was planning to murder, but he wanted to get out of there in case he or Frank were the target.

He burst into his room, grabbed his rucksack and began stuffing it full of clothes; a random pair of shorts and some underwear he assumed were clean.

Gareth then pulled his phone back out and hit Oliver's number. The tone rang and rang, but the Collie didn't seem to be answering.

Dammit, he's gone to bed.

Instead, Gareth hit Frank's contact and began texting out a message.

Hi Frank, I think my not-dad wants to murder someone. Can you help?

Gareth sent the message off and sat down on his bed. He could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest but he tried to take deep breaths to force himself to relax.

His phone began ringing and he glanced down expecting to see Oliver's name displayed. Instead, Frank's contact was showing on the screen.

He swiped to answer.

"Hello?" he said nervously.

"Gareth, what's going on?" the wolf asked. "Are you genuinely in danger?"

"I don't know," Gareth admitted. "Arseny, I mean Anthony was talking about wanting to murder someone."

"I don't want to jump to conclusions, but honestly mate I think that's a figure of speech," Frank replied with what sounded like a yawn. "Unless you are absolutely sure?"

Gareth felt his heart sink.

"Honestly, I don't know, and I'm pretty scared," he admitted, feeling embarrassed at admitting the last part.

He heard Frank exhale loudly at the other end followed by Marcus muttering something.

"Do you want to come here?" Frank asked.

"Um, yes please," Gareth said reluctantly.

"Do you need me to come and get you?"

"No, I can make my own way over."

"Okay, well, be careful and I'll see you in a minute. Keep me posted if anything else happens," Frank said before hanging up.

Gareth wanted to marvel at the absurdity of the fact he was running to Frank for safety, but he didn't stop to dwell on the thought too much as he wanted out of not-dad's house.

His rucksack was now stuffed with as many (presumably) clean clothes, as many he had picked up were piled on the floor, so Gareth made for the stairs and hurried to the front door.

It was now dark outside and Gareth hurried down the drive.

The centre of the village was almost deserted, save for a few lights shining behind curtains.

Gareth hurried along until he reached the lane where Honeysuckle Lodge sat.

Hang with Frank for a bit, and then try contacting Oliver again.

That seemed like a decent plan.

The light was on in the front room at Honeysuckle Lodge and Gareth hurried up the garden path to knock on the door.

He heard what sounded like someone making their way down the stairs before the front door opened and Gareth saw Frank standing on the other side dressed in his bathrobe.

The wolf's drawstring had come slightly undone and Gareth caught sight of Frank's underwear under his bathrobe.

His jaw fell open but then he composed himself.

"Um, hi," he said awkwardly.

"You'd better come in," Frank replied in a tone of voice that was somewhere between an amused sigh and a warning not to get too interested.

Gareth splayed his ears and stepped over the threshold.

"I brought a lot of clothes, just in case," he explained, gesturing at his backpack.

"I see, well, I'm sure Marcus can direct you to a spare room," Frank said. "He should be coming down the stairs now."

As if on cue, Marcus appeared at the bottom of the stairs in a bath robe of his own. The fox looked a little peeved but he didn't say anything.

Gareth shifted uncomfortably.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Frank offered, putting on a kinder tone.

"Um, yes please," Gareth said quietly.

He felt conscious of the fact he sounded very meek and shy.

"I'm not running a bloody hotel," he heard Marcus mutter.

"Marcus," Frank said sternly. Marcus huffed and grumbled to himself.

"I can always leave?" Gareth offered.

"No, it's fine," Marcus sighed. "I would rather be the one to say what goes on in my house without Frank making the decisions on my behalf. So, would you like a cup of tea?"

"I guess so," Gareth replied.

Marcus gave a rather haughty gesture for Gareth to follow. Gareth nervously complied and walked with Frank and Marcus to the kitchen.

He set his bag down and watched as Marcus clicked the kettle on.

"So, what exactly went on when you got home?" Frank asked, gesturing for Gareth to sit at the table. "You seemed worried by what Anthony was saying."

"He was saying I want to murder someone," Gareth explained.

"Yes, you said on the phone, and I'm guessing, and indeed hoping, he meant that as an expression," Frank replied. "Was there anything else?"

"He's standing in the local election."

"Oh great."

"And that he'll come to power as Prime Minister, and we're all fucked," Gareth sighed.

"Going from a local candidate to Prime Minister is quite a big leap Gareth," Frank replied with a stifled chuckle. "But still, it's concerning as I suspect he can then smooth over his plans to demolish the Mansfield place if he's elected, that's if we haven't rattled him too much."

"I mean, he almost ran over people in the village, I don't think that'd help his chances much," Gareth reasoned.

"Yup, sensible point," Frank nodded.

"Gareth being sensible is a first," Marcus snorted.

"Hey!" Gareth exclaimed, although inside he knew the fox probably had a point.

Frank stood and set tea bags into three cups before pouring the water in.

"Milk, sugar?" he offered.

"Hey, I should be offering that, it's my house," Marcus cut in. "Milk, sugar?" he asked, turning to Gareth.

"Um, just two sugars please."

Frank stirred the sugar in and handed Gareth his cup.

"Thanks," he said, before taking a sip. "He's planning to make this announcement at the village festival."

"I'm not surprised, he helps sponsor it," Frank replied.

"The village festival, ah yeah I remember," Marcus said as he sat down opposite Gareth. "Weirdo morris dancers, some music, usually some local kid on guitar and then everyone chases some cheese down a hill."

"That's one way of putting it," Frank laughed.

"I've never been here when it happens," Gareth sighed. "The first year I went on holiday, the second year I stayed away as I knew not-dad was connected to it and I didn't want to have to stand there while he boasted and bragged about how great he is."

"Fair enough," Frank said. "But if you get around that it's a pretty decent day, and it's been going for longer than Anthony has been helping it, so it's a local tradition, not his platform to brag."

"I only went to watch the cheese rolling contest down Ferry Hill," Marcus added. "Remember when Freddie Harcourt broke his hind-paw doing it?"

"Yes, and that was precisely why I never took part and tried banning you from signing up to it," Frank sighed. "Especially after the time that French jackal who had travelled all the way from Paris to do it broke his arm."

"Why do they allow this?" Gareth asked. "I mean, I remember Arseny saying he wanted it banned."

"Oh no, don't ban the cheese race, it's fun to watch," Marcus sighed. "Mostly for when it goes wrong."

"You mean you want this tradition kept alive just so you can capitalise on someone's suffering," Frank sighed.

"Oh don't me so holier than thou!"

"I'm not, I don't see the attraction in watching people fall down a hill to chase after a wheel of cheese and getting horribly injured in the process," Frank explained.

"You can hardly talk, you always went to watch!" Marcus countered. "And I remember you laughing when everyone fell down."

"That was when I was what? Sixteen or so, I don't find it as funny as an adult."

"I bet you do!"

"No, why is getting injured funny?" Frank grumbled.

"So, you want it banned, like Gareth's step-dad does?"

"Well, not banned, but it's not something I'd take part in or watch if it was happened outside of the village."

"Ha! So you do still watch it," Marcus teased.

"Only because it's hard to avoid, the hill overlooks the village."

"Then look the other way!" Marcus said. "I mean, that's not difficult."

"That's just being petty."

"How is that being petty?" Marcus asked. "You grumble about something, and then go and watch anyway. It's like critics who hate my books and rate them one out of five, and then still read them."

"I don't think rating a book one is the same as expressing doubt over a cheese rolling contest," Frank sighed.

Gareth watched as Marcus and Frank kept going back and forth. He sighed inwardly as he thought back to how his mum and her boyfriends always argued in a similar manner.

"It's totally the same!" Marcus said with a triumphant grin. "You criticise something, only then you go and watch it."

"Not out of choice."

"Look at the sea instead, or go home and make some tea or something!"

"Guys, guys, guys!" Gareth cut in. Both Marcus and Frank stopped arguing and turned to fix Gareth a surprised expression. "I'm sorry, it's just hearing you argue isn't nice," Gareth explained nervously.

Frank and Marcus looked at each other before nodding.

"Yeah, you're right, arguing isn't very nice," Marcus sighed.

"It isn't," Frank agreed. "Thank you for putting a stop to it Gareth."

Gareth nodded awkwardly and sipped his tea.

The three sat at the table in silence as they finished their tea off.

"Well, I dunno about you guys but I'm feeling tired," Marcus said, letting out a yawn. "There's stuff in the main bathroom if you need it, oh and I did change the sheets in the spare bedroom and the end of the hall upstairs," he added to Gareth.

"Thank you," Gareth replied, feeling surprised at how cordial Marcus was suddenly being.

"And no stealing stuff," Marcus said sternly. "If I catch you in the act I will call the police on you."

"I won't."

"I think I'll hit the hay too," Frank added.

Gareth watched as they got to their hind-paws.

"Well, uh, good night guys," Gareth said.

"Good night," Marcus and Frank replied in unison as they left the kitchen.

Gareth sat in disbelief for a moment before he let out a yawn.

Time to investigate the spare room, and no I'm not stealing anything anymore he thought to himself.