Gran! shouted Matthew. Who gave you permission to keep a wolf in the village?
Agnes bitterly wept, staring at the ruined fence. Shed patched it so many times with leftover planks, shoring up the rotten posts, always hoping her gate would hold just a bit longer, at least until shed saved enough from her modest pension. But fate had other ideas now the whole thing had collapsed.
For ten years now, Agnes had managed the cottage and garden alone since her beloved husband, Peter, had passed away. Hed been handy with anything the best carpenter in the village, a man everyone respected for his kindness and diligence. While he was alive, Agnes had peace of mind. She never worried; Peter saw to everything himself, there was no need to call for tradesmen.
Theyd spent forty happy years together, just a single day short of their ruby anniversary. Their neat cottage, bountiful garden, and healthy livestock were all the fruit of their shared toiling.
They had only one son, George their pride and joy. From early childhood, George was used to farmwork, always lending a hand without prompting. If his mother returned home weary from the dairy, shed find wood split and stacked, water drawn, the fire roaring, and the animals tended, all thanks to her boy.
When Peter would come in from his work, hed wash up and step out onto the porch for a smoke, while Agnes prepared supper. Every evening, the family gathered around the old oak table, trading tales from their day. Those were happy times.
But time, relentless as always, left only memories in its wake. George grew up and moved to London for university, where he married a city girl, Judith. The couple settled in the capital. At first, George came home for holidays, but soon Judith insisted on holidays abroad, and so, year after year, their visits to the village stopped. It upset Peter, who didnt understand his sons choices.
Where does our George get so tired then? Has that Judith filled his head with silly ideas about travel? Whats wrong with home?
Agnes ached with loneliness, but what could she do? She went on, living in hope of a letter from George. Then one spring, Peter fell ill. He stopped eating, grew weaker with each passing day. Doctors prescribed medicine but, in the end, sent him home to spend his days in peace. When the blackbirds returned to the hedgerows and bluebells pressed through the moss, Peter drew his last breath.
George returned for the funeral, sobbing with guilt for not having seen his father alive one last time. He stayed for a week, then left for London. In the past ten years, hed written only three letters to Agnes. She sold the cow and sheep to neighbours what need had she now for livestock? Their old Jersey heifer stood by the gate for hours, listening as her mistress quietly wept. Agnes would lock herself in the back parlour, cover her ears, and cry.
Without a mans hands about, the homestead fell to ruin. The roof leaked, the porch rotted, water seeped under the floorboards. Agnes did what she could, scraping together her pension for odd jobs or mending things herself shed been raised in the country, after all.
Then calamity struck again her sight began to fail. At the village shop, she could hardly make out the prices. In a few short months, she could barely read the sign above the door.
Grace, the district nurse, called round, examined her, and pressed for a hospital visit.
Agnes, do you want to go blind? They can perform an operation; youll see again!
But Agnes feared the very idea of surgery and stubbornly refused. Within a year, shed lost almost all her sight. Strangely, it didnt much trouble her.
What do I need the light for? I dont watch telly, only listen to the newsreader on the radio. At home, I do everything from memory.
Still, at times, worry gnawed at her. The village wasnt as safe as it had been these days, there were more unsavoury types. Burglars prowled abandoned cottages, taking whatever they could carry. Agnes wished she had a good dog to scare intruders with its bark and presence.
She asked Sam, the local gamekeeper, Dont you know anyone with a litter of sheepdog pups? Just a small one Ill rear it myself
Sam, a ruddy-faced man, eyed her thoughtfully.
Gran, why would you want a sheepdog? Theyre a handful for you. I could bring you a proper guard dog from town.
I expect thatd be expensive.
Not dearer than peace of mind, Gran.
All right, fetch one then.
Agnes counted out her savings and reckoned she had enough for a decent animal. But Sam, wildly unreliable, always put it off. She scolded him for his empty promises, though she couldnt help pitying him. Sam, her Georges age, had never left the village, never married, no family his only solace was the pub.
When not hunting, Sam did odd jobs for pensioners. Hed dig gardens or fix lawnmowers his pay from the old ladies quickly vanished down at the Crown & Sceptre.
If his benders got too bad, Sam would disappear into the woods for days, returning with baskets of wild mushrooms, blackberries, trout, even chestnuts. Hed sell his finds for a pittance and spend the proceeds on ale. Drunk or sober, hed always help Agnes with chores for wages, naturally. Now the fence was ruined, she found herself relying on him again.
Seems Ill have to wait on the dog, Agnes sighed. Got to pay Sam for these repairs and theres barely any cash left.
One afternoon, Sam arrived with his rucksack bulging. Grinning, he called Agnes over.
Look here! He unzipped the bag.
Agnes timidly reached out and, to her astonishment, felt a fluffy little head.
Sam! Have you really brought me a puppy?
Only the best. Thoroughbred Shepherd, Gran.
The puppy squirmed in the rucksack, eager for freedom. Agnes fretted,
But I havent the money for both the repairs and the dog!
Not taking him back, am I? Sam replied. Do you know how much I paid for this hound?
So Agnes dashed down to the corner shop, where the shopkeeper let her take five bottles of gin on credit, jotting her name in the ledger.
By evening, Sam had finished the fence. Agnes served him a proper roast and poured a little nip. Merry with his gin, Sam sat by the hearth, giving advice as the puppy curled by the hearth.
Feed him twice daily, Gran. Buy the strongest collar and chain you can he’ll be a big, sturdy lad. I know dogs.
So thats how Agnes wound up with a new companion Max. She adored that pup, and he doted on her. Whenever Agnes stepped outside to feed him, Max would bounce up, tail wagging, licking her hands with devotion. Only one thing troubled her the dog kept growing, as big as a calf, yet never barked, not once. This vexed her.
Oh Sam, you scoundrel! Sold me a dog that wont bark.
But what could she do? She couldnt turn away such a gentle creature. Even the neighbours terriers gave Max a wide berth; in just three months, he was up to her waist.
One day, Matthew, the village huntsman, was passing through, stocking up for the shooting season. Catching sight of Max in the garden, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Gran! Who gave you permission to keep a wolf in the village?
Agnes clutched her chest in fear.
Dear God! How foolish Ive been! That sly Sam tricked me, told me it was a pedigree Shepherd
Matthew was grim-faced.
Gran, you must set him loose in the woods. Otherwise, something terrible will happen.
Tears welled up in her faded eyes. The thought of losing Max broke her heart. Gentle as he was, hed grown restless, straining at his chain, yearning for freedom, and the villagers eyed him with distrust. She had no choice.
Matthew took the dog by van to the woods. Max flicked his tail and vanished into the trees. He was never seen again.
Agnes mourned her friend and cursed Sams treachery. Even Sam regretted what hed done; hed meant well. Some months back, Sam had stumbled on a den in the woods found its mother dead, and all but one of her cubs killed by a bear. Hed taken pity and brought the orphan home, then passed it on to Agnes, thinking the wolf would eventually run wild and hed have time to find her a real dog. But Matthew had ruined those plans.
Sam lingered around her cottage for days, too ashamed to knock. Winters chill bit at the eaves; Agnes stoked the fire, huddled for warmth at night.
Suddenly, there came a knock. Shuffling to the door, she peered through dim vision. A stranger stood on the step.
Evening, Gran. Can you put up a wayfarer for the night? Got caught in the snow, lost my way heading to the next village.
And your name, dear?
Boris.
Agnes frowned.
Theres no Boris in this village
I recently bought a house here, Gran. Meant to have a look, but the car gave up and I had to walk. Terrible storm.
Did you buy Old Dannys place?
He nodded.
Thats the one.
Agnes let him in, set the kettle going never noticing how his eyes hungrily scanned her old dresser, where rural folk hid cash and keepsakes.
As she bustled around, he started rooting through the drawers. Agnes heard the creak.
What are you doing over there, Boris?
Well, since the currency change I thought Id help you get rid of any old notes
Her brow knitted.
Rubbish. Theres been no such change. Who are you?
He lunged for her, brandishing a knife at her chin.
Shut up, gran. Wheres your cash and jewellery and give me food!
Agnes froze in dread. Clearly, a criminal on the run. Her fate seemed sealed
Suddenly, a crash. Max a full-grown wolf burst through the door, launching himself at the intruder. The burglar shrieked and, thanks only to a thick scarf, avoided being mauled. He lashed out with his knife, nicking Maxs shoulder, who then darted aside, buying the man time to dash out.
At that moment, Sam was arriving, intent on making amends. He saw a stranger fleeing, brandishing a knife, cursing aloud. Sam sprinted to Agness cottage. Inside, he found the wolf bleeding on the floor. Understanding at once, he dashed off to call the police.
The burglar was caught and sentenced.
Afterwards, Max became the villages hero. People brought him treats, patted his head, and greeted him warmly. He never again wore a chain, living as free as he pleased. But always, after a hunt with Sam, he returned home to Agnes.
One summers day, Sam and Max saw a sleek black Range Rover outside her cottage. In the yard, someone was splitting logs it was George, returned at last. When he saw Sam, he threw his arms wide.
That evening, George convinced his mother to come to London for her eye operation so that she might see her grandson that summer.
Well, if I must Agnes sighed. I want to see him anyway. Sam, keep an eye on the house, and Max, will you?
Sam nodded. Max lay down by the stove, head on his paws, content. He knew where he belonged right there, with his friends.
