Kissed a Sad Goodbye

at making do with little, and they sat down next day to a jolly table. Tommy and Edward had helped him make newspaper hats, and Cath had somehow procured a bit of colored tissue for homemade crackers. They’d filled them with bits of tinsel and mottoes concocted with much hilarity the previous evening. Lewis was even allowed a sip of Christmas gin, which inspired in him an affectionate glow and an unprecedented tolerance of his sister’s teasing.
    On this occasion, his family’s gift seemed to have bypassed him altogether, for he had no premonition that this was the last time they would all be gathered together.
     

CHAPTER 11
     
The great ships were brought into the Island to loom over back yards and gardens and the foreign sailors were set down in the dusty streets where the children played.
Eve Hostettler, from
Memories of Childhood
on the Isle of Dogs, 1870-1970
     
     
     
    Kit had been working diligently on his obstacle course since lunchtime. The Millers’ back garden provided a level and shady area for his endeavors, and he had managed to persuade Laura and Colin to let him stay behind while they went into Cambridge for some shopping.
    It was the dog show on the telly last night that had given him the idea. There had been the usual best-of-breed judgings, which he’d watched anxiously for dogs resembling Tess. When he saw the Norfolk terriers, with their shaggy brown coats and bright black eyes, he’d felt certain that Tess carried those genes somewhere in her ancestry.
    But there had also been trials of agility and obedience open to all dogs, registered or not. He’d been particularly enchanted by the obstacle-course relay races, and the idea that Tess’s lack of pedigree could be overcome in such a contest had given him a fierce sense of mission. Tess was as smart as any dog—smarter, even—and now he’d seen a way to prove just how special she was.
    He’d constructed the jumps from last winter’s leftover firewood—two logs for the supports, one for the crosspiece: just the right size for a small dog. Then he’d made a ramp from a piece of plywood and some milk crates he’d found in the garage, and a ring from an old tire rim. The only thing he hadn’t managed to figure out was the dispenser for the tennis ball at the far end of the course; the idea being that Tess would run the course, retrieve the ball from the dispenser, then bring it back to him at the starting point.
    At first Tess had bounded after him excitedly, jumping at the end of the lead dangling from his pocket, but when she’d realized no walk or games were immediately forthcoming, she’d retired to a shady spot under the oak tree. There she lay with her head on her front paws, her tail thumping occasionally as she followed him with her eyes.
    Kit kept up a singsong running commentary on his tasks as he worked. Although this monologue was addressed to Tess, he found it helped keep him from thinking, and thinking was something he’d done his best to avoid the last few days.
    Since he’d refused yesterday to take Duncan’s phone call, Laura had been watching him with evident concern, but she hadn’t questioned him about it. He’d even caught Colin giving him the odd worried look, and being nicer than usual, which was worse. He didn’t want to talk to Colin, either—didn’t want to talk to anyone about what had happened, and especially not to Duncan.
    But every so often he’d found himself pulling the dogeared photo of Duncan in his scout’s uniform from his pocket. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, and even as he finished a last adjustment to the log jump, his fingers slid into his pocket just far enough to feel the photo’s edge, assuring him he hadn’t lost it. The image had become so clear in his mind that he really didn’t need to look at it anymore. It gave him the oddest feeling, like looking in a mirror that was ever so slightly warped—the hair a shade darker than his, the eyes a bit grayer, the nose a little less sharp.
    But that wasn’t the image he wanted to see. He’d locked himself in the bathroom last night after Colin fell asleep, searching his face in the mirror, trying to find the resemblance to his mother that people were always going on about.
    He gave a sharp shake of his head, pushing the thought aside as he knelt beside Tess. “Come on, girl,” he said as he took the dog’s lead from his pocket and snapped it onto her collar. “Let’s give this a try.” He checked his