Matt Haig

The Last Family in England


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but the despair in her voice, and her scent, was all too clear.

      ‘I know, Lottie,’ said Adam.

      I had a feeling of complete powerlessness. There was absolutely nothing I could do to amend the situation, or even to make them feel better. The Pact does not equip you for those moments. The moments when pain is present without danger.

      But still, I wanted to help.

      I cared for them, that was the thing.

      Until that moment – watching Charlotte as she buried herself in Adam’s pyjama jacket, trying to make everything go away – my concern for the Family had neatly translated as adherence to the Pact. Yet there I was, outside the scene I was smelling, unable to have any influence.

      But no: these are thoughts I am having now, sniffing back. At the time, I did not doubt the Pact. I felt confused, sure, and wanted to make things better. There was no disloyalty though. I was still learning; there were things I didn’t know. I didn’t fully understand the dual nature of pain, that as well as tearing Families apart it could also bring them closer together.

      And of course, even knowing what I know now, even after having committed those horrific deeds, there would still be nothing I could do. Nothing to stop the sad-smells.

      ‘What’s happening?’

      It was Kate. Realising her question needed no answer, she too moved into the room and sat on the bed. Charlotte, immediately comforted by her presence, lifted herself up from Adam’s chest to snuggle herself into her mother’s.

      ‘Why do people have to die?’ asked Charlotte, drying her face with her hand. ‘It’s so unfair.’

      Kate swallowed her own grief and glanced at Adam. ‘I am sure that wherever Grandpa is now, he is looking down on us all, right as we speak.’

      ‘No, he’s not,’ said Charlotte. ‘He’s gone for ever. We’re all going to go for ever. There’s nothing else.’

      Faced with this new realisation, Charlotte looked as though she was on the verge of being sick. Both parents hugged her now, while Hal could be heard leaving his bed to head for the bathroom. There were pissing sounds, quickly drowned out by the loud flush of toilet water.

      Moments later he was also sitting on his sister’s bed.

      He didn’t say anything. He didn’t cry. He didn’t join in the huddle of grief next to him. In fact, to the untrained nose he may have seemed too tired for any emotion at all. But as I went over and sniffed him, as I tried to cancel out the scent of his boxer shorts, I could detect a deep and stifling sadness smell as heavy as the others’.

      His parents continued to comfort his sister.

      ‘Come on, Charlotte, you’ve got to be strong.’

      ‘You’ve got to make Grandpa proud.’

      Eventually, and with one hand still resting on his daughter’s back, Adam turned to Hal and asked if he was OK.

      ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he responded. ‘I’m really fine.’

      The last ‘fine’ was almost inaudible as a heavy gust of wind pushed against the window. Hal smiled, resilient, but in his eyes there was something else. Something which wouldn’t be hugged away. Something which suggested the darkness and growing threat of the world outside, beyond the Family.

      Beyond my protection.

       The Labrador Pact: Learn from your elders

       In the early stages of their mission, young Labradors need guidance and instruction and it is the responsibility of elder members of our breed to provide such help. The Pact needs to be interpreted and applied to each individual mission, and only those with considerable experience will be able to help younger Labradors in this task.

       To disobey or to overrule our elders is to undermine the sacred order which has helped us protect our human masters throughout history.

      good

      Night-time in the park was bonding time. Me and Adam. No other dogs to distract us. In the morning, however, the park became something else. A training ground.

      ‘Duty over all.’

      ‘Duty over all.’

      I had never been more pleased to see Henry’s golden face. Even his scent reassured me.

      ‘I sense you are worried, Prince. Is something wrong? Is your Family in danger?’

      Every morning since my mission started he had tutored me in what it meant to be a good Labrador, and in what I should do to live my life in accordance with the Pact. If anyone could tell me what to do, it was him.

      ‘I don’t know. Kate’s father died. Grandma Margaret is coming to stay. Everyone’s upset.’

      ‘That is only natural, Prince.’

      ‘Yes, I know. But I am worried about what it will mean, for the future.’

      ‘You have no need to worry, Prince. You are doing well. Just remember, everything is in your control.’

      ‘But –’ I stopped, seeing a Springer spaniel charge over towards us.

      ‘Oh no,’ said Henry. ‘Here comes a Springer.’

      principles

      The Springer hurtled into Henry, knocking him onto the ground. Then, as Henry struggled back upright, the Springer tried to mount him, thrusting aggressively a few times before charging off again without saying a word.

      I hated it when that happened. And I have to say, it happened a lot. To most of the dogs we came across in the park, Henry was seen as something of a joke. Of course, all Labradors are ridiculed from time to time, especially by Springers. That is only inevitable. Our principles, as decreed in the Pact, are viewed as out of date. After all, this is an age where canine duty and sacrifice have been replaced by the relentless pursuit of pleasure and only the slightest regard for our human masters.

      Henry, however, had it tougher than most.

      He wasn’t much of a socialiser, and never hid his disdain for sniffaholics. ‘Sniffing must always have a purpose beyond sensation,’ he maintained. He was viewed, I suppose, as humourless and over-serious (an impression reinforced by his former police sniffer dog status). His mind was always on higher things.

      Well, that is what I thought. Looking back now, I realise how much he must have kept contained. How much pain he must have been feeling. How much guilt.

      But at the time I loved and respected this wise old Labrador unconditionally. His complete devotion to the cause appeared nothing short of heroic. I would look up at him, follow his ponderous jawline as it pointed skyward, and yearn for his respect.

      ‘I pity him,’ Henry said, gesturing towards the Springer’s owner. ‘What hope does he have, living with him? He might as well just have a cat. And I need not remind you that that is why the humans are in turmoil. Most no longer have dogs, and the ones that do rarely opt for Labradors.’

      I remembered something he had told me on a previous occasion. ‘But I thought that, providing Labradors follow their duty, every Family has a chance. Even the dogless.’

      Henry hesitated, stepped backwards into the flowerbed, and cocked his leg. ‘In theory, yes, Prince. That is true. As the Pact says, “Protect one Family, protect all”. But our influence is waning. We cannot ignore the fact that the Springer Uprising has had a very real impact. When every dog followed their duty, almost every Family in England was safe, regardless of the pet they chose. Even those without any pet at all could often be saved, such was our species’ influence on human society. Now though, Families are falling apart everywhere. We must no longer worry too much about the fate of other humans, we must