about his father’s announcement didn’t ring true. It was as if they both knew, one or way or another, the train would not be caught and Darkus would not be going home – at least not yet.
‘Dad, you know full well I can’t leave in the middle of a case,’ Darkus remonstrated. ‘That is unless you want it to remain in the vaults of the Department of the Unexplained, rather than have it put before a jury and see justice done.’
‘You do make a strong case, Doc.’
‘I know. I learned from the best.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere. But there is one overriding issue that you have patently ignored, and I fear you will have no adequate answer for. And that is your mother . I imagine she’s expecting a call within the hour, and you home by tomorrow night.’
‘Can you tell her I’m unwell?’ Darkus suggested.
‘She won’t buy it.’
‘I thought you said you were a good liar.’
‘Not that good.’
‘Then perhaps we should offer her the truth,’ said Darkus.
‘And that is?’
‘That you’re out of your depth. Again.’ His father frowned, his brow creasing. Darkus continued regardless: ‘And that without my assistance you may fall victim to another “episode”, or worse.’
‘The delivery was unnecessarily cruel, Doc. But, as usual, I fear you may be on to something.’
‘She does care about you, Dad. Whether she admits it or not.’
Knightley pursed his lips and made an odd chomping expression as he digested this last piece of evidence, before coming to a decision. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’
Chapter 7
The Dog Whisperer
If Darkus had any doubts about Wilbur’s new digs, they were quickly dispelled when he and his father returned to 27 Cherwell Place that evening to find Bogna and the mutt had already become bosom buddies.
After greeting the Knightleys with an unusual level of affection – wagging his tail several times as opposed to the usual single wag – Wilbur returned to Bogna’s lap, literally leaping on to her as she sat in an armchair following a particularly gruelling session with the Hoover. Bogna didn’t seem to mind this furry lump using her as an improvised dog basket. In fact she appeared to like it.
‘Good boyee, Wilburs. Now show Alan and Darkus what Bogna teach you.’
Wilbur raised his eyebrows as if to say: Do I have to?
‘Don’t make argument with me, Wilburs.’
Wilbur frowned, twitched his whiskers, then lowered one, two, then all four legs to the carpet. He then walked to the centre of the living room and sat perfectly still, back straight, head held high.
Darkus watched in amazement, then looked to his father for confirmation. Knightley narrowed his eyes to examine the phenomenon.
Bogna resumed her tuition. ‘Good. Now fetch Bogna the feathered duster.’ Wilbur cocked his head reluctantly. ‘Go . . .’ she urged.
Wilbur slowly got back to his feet and trotted into the kitchen, vanishing behind the fridge. A moment later he returned, carrying the feather duster gingerly between his teeth. He raised his snout, handing it to Bogna, who duly nodded and held it vertically in her right hand, briefly resembling a monarch upon the throne holding a sceptre.
‘Outstanding,’ remarked Knightley.
‘It’s incredible,’ agreed Darkus.
Bogna casually shrugged. ‘Now, Wilburs . . . Bogna is feelings hungry. Fetch Bogna something for eats.’
Wilbur wagged his tail, trotted back to the fridge, sat on his haunches and extended his back, reaching out with his right paw. He pulled on the handle and the fridge door swung open. Wilbur then staggered forward on his hind legs, gently resting his paws against the shelf of the fridge and carefully taking a small box of chocolates between his teeth. He staggered backwards, sat on his haunches again, closed the door with his paw and returned to Bogna, wagging his tail.
Bogna took the chocolate box from his jaws. ‘Good boyee. Now, feets?’ She nodded to the ottoman, which Wilbur
‘Dad, you know full well I can’t leave in the middle of a case,’ Darkus remonstrated. ‘That is unless you want it to remain in the vaults of the Department of the Unexplained, rather than have it put before a jury and see justice done.’
‘You do make a strong case, Doc.’
‘I know. I learned from the best.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere. But there is one overriding issue that you have patently ignored, and I fear you will have no adequate answer for. And that is your mother . I imagine she’s expecting a call within the hour, and you home by tomorrow night.’
‘Can you tell her I’m unwell?’ Darkus suggested.
‘She won’t buy it.’
‘I thought you said you were a good liar.’
‘Not that good.’
‘Then perhaps we should offer her the truth,’ said Darkus.
‘And that is?’
‘That you’re out of your depth. Again.’ His father frowned, his brow creasing. Darkus continued regardless: ‘And that without my assistance you may fall victim to another “episode”, or worse.’
‘The delivery was unnecessarily cruel, Doc. But, as usual, I fear you may be on to something.’
‘She does care about you, Dad. Whether she admits it or not.’
Knightley pursed his lips and made an odd chomping expression as he digested this last piece of evidence, before coming to a decision. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’
Chapter 7
The Dog Whisperer
If Darkus had any doubts about Wilbur’s new digs, they were quickly dispelled when he and his father returned to 27 Cherwell Place that evening to find Bogna and the mutt had already become bosom buddies.
After greeting the Knightleys with an unusual level of affection – wagging his tail several times as opposed to the usual single wag – Wilbur returned to Bogna’s lap, literally leaping on to her as she sat in an armchair following a particularly gruelling session with the Hoover. Bogna didn’t seem to mind this furry lump using her as an improvised dog basket. In fact she appeared to like it.
‘Good boyee, Wilburs. Now show Alan and Darkus what Bogna teach you.’
Wilbur raised his eyebrows as if to say: Do I have to?
‘Don’t make argument with me, Wilburs.’
Wilbur frowned, twitched his whiskers, then lowered one, two, then all four legs to the carpet. He then walked to the centre of the living room and sat perfectly still, back straight, head held high.
Darkus watched in amazement, then looked to his father for confirmation. Knightley narrowed his eyes to examine the phenomenon.
Bogna resumed her tuition. ‘Good. Now fetch Bogna the feathered duster.’ Wilbur cocked his head reluctantly. ‘Go . . .’ she urged.
Wilbur slowly got back to his feet and trotted into the kitchen, vanishing behind the fridge. A moment later he returned, carrying the feather duster gingerly between his teeth. He raised his snout, handing it to Bogna, who duly nodded and held it vertically in her right hand, briefly resembling a monarch upon the throne holding a sceptre.
‘Outstanding,’ remarked Knightley.
‘It’s incredible,’ agreed Darkus.
Bogna casually shrugged. ‘Now, Wilburs . . . Bogna is feelings hungry. Fetch Bogna something for eats.’
Wilbur wagged his tail, trotted back to the fridge, sat on his haunches and extended his back, reaching out with his right paw. He pulled on the handle and the fridge door swung open. Wilbur then staggered forward on his hind legs, gently resting his paws against the shelf of the fridge and carefully taking a small box of chocolates between his teeth. He staggered backwards, sat on his haunches again, closed the door with his paw and returned to Bogna, wagging his tail.
Bogna took the chocolate box from his jaws. ‘Good boyee. Now, feets?’ She nodded to the ottoman, which Wilbur
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