“(How Much Is) That Doggie in the Window”

The rain had stopped just before tea time, leaving the new concrete paths between the maisonettes shining like someone had varnished them. The air smelled of wet clay and brick dust from the nearby building site. The wind kept tugging at the washing lines strung across the drying green. A few shirts slapped against the posts like they were trying to get free.

I was meant to be taking the empty milk bottles down to the crate by the entrance, but I’d been singing all afternoon and Mum had finally snapped.

“For the love of heaven, Raymond, stop that racket and take those bottles down. And don’t come back up till you’ve run it out of your system.”

So I went, clinking the bottles together on purpose because it made a good sound. The stairwell echoed everything: footsteps, doors, babies crying, people arguing. You could hear whole lives through those walls if you stood still long enough.

I started singing again on the second landing. “How much is that doggie in the win...”

A door opened behind me. Mrs Carter from number 6 stuck her head out. “Not that blasted thing again,” she said. “Give it a rest, will you?”

I nodded, but as soon as she shut the door I carried on, quieter this time. It wasn’t my fault it got stuck in your head. Everyone at school was singing it. Even the big boys, though they pretended they weren’t.

 “Ray!” someone shouted. It was my friend Timmy, hair sticking up like he’d been dragged through a hedge. “Come on! We’re playing Wembley!”

I shook my head. “Got to take these down.”

“Chuck ’em and come on!”

I didn’t. Mum would check. She always checked.

Outside, the wind hit me full in the face. The sky was bright in patches, grey in others. The kind of April evening where you couldn’t tell if it would rain again or not. Kids were already out on the green: kicking a ball, skipping, chalking hopscotch on the pavement that the rain would wash away by morning.

I put the bottles in the crate by the entrance. The metal rattled. A dog barked somewhere — not a big dog, more like a terrier — it echoed off the brickwork.

“See?” Timmy said, appearing beside me. “Everyone’s got a dog except us.”

“Not everyone.”

“Feels like it.”

We walked toward the green. The ground was still wet and the chalk lines were smudged. A 174 bus growled along Straight Road, its engine echoing across the estate. The sound made the dog bark again.

“Bet it’s that one from the flats near the shops,” Timmy said. “The one that always gets out.”

“That’s ’cos they don’t shut their gate.”

“They don’t shut nothing.”

We watched the bus disappear over the rise. A woman on the balcony above shouted at someone inside. A baby started crying. Someone turned on a wireless and the sound drifted out. Not the doggie song, something slow and soppy.

Timmy nudged me. “Sing it again.”

“No.”

“Go on.”

“You sing it.”

He grinned, then belted it out at the top of his lungs, completely off key. “How much is that doggie in the win...”

A man appeared next to the woman on the balcony and leaned over the rail to shout, “Pack it in!”

Timmy laughed and ran off toward the green. I followed, but slower. The dog barked again, closer this time. I looked round and saw it: a scruffy thing, brown and white, trotting along the path like it owned the place.

It stopped when it saw me. Tilted its head. One ear up, one down.

I didn’t move. You weren’t supposed to touch strange dogs. Mum said they carried fleas and worse.

Timmy came back. “There it is! Told you it gets out.”

The dog sniffed my shoe. I didn’t kick it away, but I didn’t bend down either. It wagged its tail once, then trotted off toward the drying green.

“Bet you want one,” Timmy said.

“No.”

“You do.”

“Don’t.”

He shrugged. “I want one.”

“Your mum won’t let you.”

“Yours won’t either.”

We stood there for a moment, watching the dog disappear behind the washing posts. The wind picked up again, cold enough to make my eyes water. Someone’s sheet flapped hard on a balcony above, snapping like Zorro’s Black Whip.

Timmy started humming the tune, not the words, just the melody. It got stuck in my head again straight away.

I didn’t sing it out loud this time. I just stood there, hands in my pockets, watching the dog vanish round the corner and the sky going that pale evening colour that meant it would be dark soon.