WALKABOUT

A SHORT STORY WRITTEN IN THE LONDON WRITERS SALON 24 HOUR SPRINT

I merely walked away to have a tiddle. I mean, it’s the ladylike thing to do. I was just sauntering back when I saw a beautiful creature fluttering past me. It was a flash of iridescent blue, as beautiful as the finest flower or piece of jewellery. At first I thought it was a fairy. My sisters were convinced they really existed although my brothers pooh poohed the very idea. Naturally, I sided with my sisters. And here, at last, was proof that fairies really did exist.

I hurried after the fairy as she danced and dived across the meadows. I wondered if she had a name, perhaps Susanne or Pauline, Diane or Heather. I gazed at her intently and decided that she was probably Titania, the Fairy Queen.

I turned back to tell my parents but could not see them. I trotted back the way I had come, or rather more accurately, the way I thought I had come. But in minutes, I realised that I could not see them. Nor could I see our car. I was hopelessly lost. I ran backwards and forwards in alarm, calling out to them in a voice which grew high-pitched with anxiety.

‘Help me, please,’ I whispered to the fairy. And at that moment I realised that she was not a fairy at all; she was a butterfly. A beautiful butterfly but one which could not react to being called Titania. Nor even respond to my terrified plea for help.

The sun went down in a ferociously red sky. I sat and watched it and sniffled as I did so. Where were my parents? Would I ever see them again? Were they as desperate to find me as I was them?

I found a fallen tree and slipped beneath one of its branches. It did not give me any shelter; to be honest, I did not need it for the night was warm and still. But it gave me a feeling of being protected. And I so needed that.

The following morning, I retraced my steps of the day before, hunting for any sign of my mother and father, calling out to tell them that I was here and I was lost. I did not see them. In fact, I saw nobody at all. It appeared that I was alone; the only living creature on the island. I sat down in the middle of a field and howled in despair.

Thus began the most dreadful days of my life. Until then I had spent every hour being cared for and pampered, without the slightest responsibility or worry. From now on, I had to fend for myself; now, I had to live by my wits, from this day forward, I had to survive on my own.

I will not lie to you; it was not easy. On a few occasions, I saw cars driving along the road. I would chase after them, calling for help but I was too small to notice or the people in the car too engrossed to pay attention. None of them ever stopped. I realised that I could not rely on anyone else.

Sometimes I would come across a place where people had parked for a picnic. At first I was outraged to see how they had thrown their rubbish on to the side of the road. But then, I realised it was a godsend. I found half-eaten sandwiches, pieces of fruit, chocolate bars, hard-boiled eggs and, best of all, sausage rolls. On days when I found such bounty I was in ecstasy.

As I mentioned, I am only small and many of the animals that roamed the island seemed wild and fierce. But after a while, I realised that some were small and not to be feared. In fact, quite a number were scared of me. More importantly, I soon realised that animals died and I decided that I must eat their flesh or die of hunger. So, holding my nose, I began to do just that. It kept me alive but it was no substitute for discarded picnics.

There were one or two cottages on the island and, as the months passed, I confessed I got scared of even venturing near. But then I became desperate. Wild and desperate. I would wait until the people in the house had gone to bed and then, if a door or window was open, I would creep in and see if there was any food to thieve. There rarely was, but whenever I glimpsed anything, I wolfed it down.

Finally, after eighteen months of this horrendous experience, one evening as the sun went down, I bumped into something metal. I turned to the right and did the same. To the left, with the identical result. I turned in alarm and saw a fourth piece of metal being lowered behind me.

I was trapped.

I cowered on the ground, shaking with terror. And then a voice called very gently. ‘Don’t worry Valerie, we’ve come to rescue you. We’re going to take you home.’

I looked up at the man with soulful, desperate eyes. ‘Good girl Valerie,’ he said. ‘Good dog.’ I wagged my tail with pleasure.

And the very next day I featured in all the world’s newpapers and television programmes. ‘Valerie the Dachshund has been found after being lost on Kangaroo Island,’ my mother read aloud as she fed me my favourite dog biscuits.

Safe at last.