was in the flat because he had lived there. That, William felt, made a big difference.
“I’m still not sure,” he said. “Look, here’s an example. Let’s say that I go and stay in a hotel.”
Marcia smiled sweetly. “All right. Let’s say that you and I go and stay in a hotel.”
William froze. He had not said “you and I,” he was sure of it. He would have to correct her; he could not let it pass.
“I go and stay in a hotel—” he continued pointedly.
Marcia interrupted him. “You know, that’s what Eddie has taken you for all these years. A hotel. He’s treated you as if you were a hotel.”
“All children treat their parents like that,” William mused. “It’s the way they think of home. Anyway, let’s say that I go and stay in a hotel but leave my pyjamas behind. Can the hotel—?”
He did not complete the question. “Of course, some people don’t wear pyjamas,” Marcia muttered.
William faltered. What was this? A comment? A confession? A come-on? He raised his voice to prevent further interruptions. “I leave something behind. A tie, then. Can the hotel just give it away?”
Marcia looked thoughtful. “Well, it depends, doesn’t it? A tie is nothing very much. So I think they could probably get rid of it. They can’t send on everything their guests leave. Where would you draw the line?”
“So they hold on to anything of any value?”
Marcia shrugged. “I suspect that’s what they do. Although I don’t really know. I imagine that the staff just pocket most things.”
William sighed. He had brought up the hotel analogy but he did not feel that it had helped. “Well, I don’t think that Eddie’s stuff is in quite the same category,” he said. “And I also don’t think that you should give it away. We’ll find room in a cupboard somewhere, or I’ll take it over to Stevie’s place in the car.”
The matter was left there, and when William went home after work he discovered that Marcia, having arrived a few minutes before, had bundled some of Eddie’s clothes into a cupboard. Although he said nothing, William was pleased that she had heeded his advice; he had never been sure whether Marcia listened to anything he said, but at least in this case she appeared to have done so.
He stood in the hall, watching her push the last of Eddie’s possessions into the cupboard. “Is Freddie de la Hay sleeping?” he asked.
“I suppose so,” said Marcia. “I haven’t looked for him. He must be in that smelly dog bed of his.”
William raised an eyebrow. He did not like Freddie’s bed to be described as smelly; it was not. At least, it was no smellier than any other dog bed. Of course it smelled of dog, which was what Freddie de la Hay was. Did Marcia expect it to smell of anything different?
He left the hall and went into the living room. There was the bed, but there was no sign of Freddie. He now felt a twinge of alarm.
“He didn’t slip out when you came back, did he?” he shouted to Marcia.
And she called back from the hall, “No. I didn’t see him at all.”
William looked about the room. A cat might conceal itself in some odd place and bide its time before announcing its presence. A dog would never do that. Dogs were transparent, he thought; you knew where you stood with a dog.
He called Freddie’s name and went into the kitchen to see if he was there. He was not. Nor was he in the bathroom or any of the other rooms in the flat.
“Freddie de la Hay’s missing,” he said to Marcia. “He’s not here.”
Marcia groaned. “Eddie,” she said.
“What about Eddie?”
“Eddie’s stolen Freddie de la Hay,” she said.
William closed his eyes. “Why on earth would he do that?”
The answer was clear—to Marcia at least. “To get at you,” she said. “Eddie has decided to punish you and so he’s taken your dog.”
William sat down. “Oh no,” he said. “Do you really think so?”
“It’s obvious,” said Marcia. “You know what Eddie’s like. He’ll have said to himself: ‘Son Liberates Dog from Mean Father.’ You know how he talks.”
William was silent.
68. The Dog House
WILLIAM HAD PUT UP with a great deal from Eddie, but this was too much. He was not given to displays of anger, but now, watched by Marcia, who very much approved of the change in her friend’s demeanour, his cheeks and brow flushed choleric.
“That’s it!” he shouted. “That’s it!”
“Yes,” said