BOOKS
a series of delightfully nostalgic
illustrations that explain the book’s
enduring charm (‘nearly new’ stalls,
a lucky-dip barrel, a fancy-dress
parade). Bella wins an alarmingly
large teddy with a blue silk bow in
the raffle. But then Dave sees Dogger
on the toy stall where he can’t afford
the 5p price tag. He can’t find Mum
and Dad, only, eventually, Bella—but
by then Dogger has been bought,
and the girl won’t sell him back.
Dave cries and cries.
‘Then Bella did something
very kind.’
It made me start to weep just
typing that out.
Bella swaps her giant teddy with
the blue bow for Dogger.
Just look at how Hughes catches
Bella’s stance, as she awkwardly but
solemnly accepts Dave’s grateful hug.
She tells Dave she won’t miss the big
teddy: ‘Anyway, if I had another
teddy in my bed there wouldn’t be
room for me.’
Those first weeks pass. Better
slept, my fears receded: I watched
my children grow fond of each other.
I don’t understand, now, why I
feared otherwise, as I always adored
my own little sister. Mary had hair a
shade darker than mine, brighter
eyes, and a smaller, dirtier nose
which she rubbed with a fist. In
photos she always grinned daftly,
scrunched or gurning, an adorable
gargoyle. We got on well, because we
accepted our assigned roles—
knowing I was serious and bookish,
Mary decided to be sociable and
sporty. She got cute and funny; I took
patient and wise.
In Dogger, of course, I am the
older sister. I liked giving Mary toys
she would enjoy more than me.
However much you love an adult,
they must bear their struggles and
sadnesses themselves. Sometimes
you must accept you cannot help.
But when you love a small child,
their joy can be entirely within your
gift. I know this now as a mother but
learnt it first as a big sister. It’s so
simple: a bubble, a tickle, a lolly, a
wriggly worm, a toy lost then found.
What luck it is, Dogger reminds us,
to live in such days. nAnd the name of the
author is...
Ernest Hemingway—who
in Paris hung out with
Scott Fitzgerald and in
Cuba with Fidel Castro. His
Cuba and Key West homes
are now museums.
“My fears receded—
I watched my
children grow fond
of each other ”
’’
126 • AUGUST 2019