Dog Gone (6 page)

I turned the corner
into Bottom Lane and sucked in some air – fast. Gran stood at the other end with her hands on her hips. I hadn't got her permission to go down to the river. When it comes to breaking that rule, she's the mean-pants from hell.

As soon as she saw me, she started waving for me to hurry up. I had to come up with a good excuse fast. I half ran and half jogged, trying to think of one.

I'd been lugging my heavy heart along the route back to Gran's, feeling lonely without Lucky and empty-handed without Grandpa's rod. I wondered if I'd ever see it again. Would Brody take it home?

As I looked up at Gran, I was almost glad to be empty-handed. It would help the story I was about to spin her.

‘Where have you been, Ish? I've been looking for you everywhere.' Gran's face had wrinkled into a frown.

‘Oh, I've just been for a bit of a walk, that's all,' I said, then added, ‘Grandpa's rod has gone.'

Gran's eyes flashed down to my mud-caked gumboots. ‘Never mind that rod for the moment, looks to me like you've been down to the river.'

‘No, I haven't,' I lied. ‘Honestly, Gran. I've only been down the road a bit. You should see all the spiders' webs with dew on them. I can show them to you if you like –'

‘I wish you'd told me,' Gran interrupted, giving me one of her doubtful looks. ‘I've just come off the phone with Sylvia. I could hardly hear what she was saying, but it seems your mother won't be returning for some time. We still don't know what's happened to her, only that she's in hospital. The line went dead as I was asking.' Gran sighed, ‘I wish she hadn't gone to such a remote place.'

Gran and I walked back to the house in silence. This was unusual for Gran, even though she hadn't been her usual cheery self since Grandpa had died. She'd been trying to make an effort to keep things as happy as possible for Molly and me, but I knew she must have been really worried about Mum. The same feeling that I'd had the other morning, after Sylvia rang, washed over me like a giant wave of loneliness. Poor Mum. I hoped she was all right.

We went in the back door, to the kitchen, where Molly greeted us with a scowl. She was reading one of her books, propped up on the bench, swinging her heels against the cupboard below.

‘I wish you wouldn't do that, Molly,' said Gran wearily, as she slumped onto a chair at the kitchen table. She pushed a pile of old recipe books aside and rested her elbows on the cleared space, and cupped her chin in her hands.

‘You're always picking on me,' said Molly. ‘And anyway, what's wrong with reading?'

My heart slid down to my ankles. A bunfight between my sister and Gran was the last thing we needed right now. Fortunately, Gran let the comment drift away, heaving a sigh that said more than she could have with words.

Molly slammed her book shut and, with a smirk, slid down off the bench, onto the chair next to Gran's. ‘I've thought of one good thing about Mum not coming back for a few weeks,' Molly announced. ‘We get more holidays. We don't have to go back to school next week.'

‘You'll be going to school here,' said Gran.

‘What?' Molly stood up so abruptly her chair tipped over, slid across the kitchen floor, and crashed into the cupboard. ‘You can't make me go to that dump down the road. It's for losers and cow brains. I'm not going there!'

‘Molly, calm down and please pick up the chair,' said Gran, standing up herself, as if she needed the extra height to stare down Molly.

‘I'm not going to school here. You can't make me!' Molly ignored the chair and put her hands on her hips. ‘It's even got a stupid name:
Mount Selview Consolidated
. And there's no mountain for miles around here. It sounds more like a prison to me! I'm not going there.'

She stamped out of the kitchen and banged the door closed behind her with such force, the three geese that hung on the wall beside it fell off. Amazingly, they seemed to fly down to the floor, landing one after the other.

Gran and I looked at each other for a moment, stunned, then burst out laughing. We laughed so much, tears streamed down our faces.

Our fits of laughter were interrupted by loud banging on the front door.

‘See who it is, love,' Gran coughed, so weak from laughing, she stood with her legs crossed.

I opened the door to Mr Ironclad. He was armed with a huge container covered by a tea towel.

‘Hello, Ish. Is yer Gran home?'

‘Yes, she's in the kitchen.'

‘Any news of Lucky, lad? Still worrying meself sick about him.'

‘No, 'fraid not, Mr Ironclad. I s'pose he'll turn up sooner or later.' I didn't look him in the eye. I knew Lucky being taken had affected him, too. He loved Lucky, and Lucky was crazy about him. Once, when our family went away on a holiday, Gran looked after Lucky. Except that was the time he ate her chooks and Splat got run over. To help out, Mr Ironclad offered to have him and they got on so well, Lucky didn't even want to come home. He wouldn't get in the car when it was time to go and he whined all the way back to Melbourne.

Why hadn't I had him on a lead, like I did all the time in Melbourne? It was all my fault he nearly got run over by the truck, and it was my fault he'd run away.

‘I hope you're right, boy.'

‘Me too. Just go in.' I couldn't help thinking he looked like a giant panda from behind, as I followed him into the kitchen, curious to see what was under the tea towel.

‘Hello, Henry,' said Gran, uncrossing her legs.

‘Mornin', Maggie,' replied Mr Ironclad, who made Gran's kitchen seem much smaller than it usually was. ‘Hope I'm not intrudin' or nothin', but I've just made a batch of doughnuts. Me mum's recipe an' all.'

‘Well, that's awfully kind of you, Henry. Here – have a seat.' Gran picked up the chair that Molly had tipped over, then looked at Mr Ironclad and back at the chair again, as if to judge whether it would stand the strain.

‘I know how much you enjoyed them cream puffs, Maggie. Keeps me mind off all the dog business.' Mr Ironclad sat on the chair. For a second or two, I thought it might collapse, but fortunately it creaked a lot and that's all.

Just as Gran had finished boiling the kettle for a cup of tea to go with the doughnuts, there was another knock at the front door. I opened it to find one of Gran's friends from the Women's Guild.

‘Is your Gran in today, Ish?' she asked, peering over my shoulder as the sound of Mr Ironclad's voice drifted down the hallway like a sonic boom in slow motion.

‘Yeah, she's in the kitchen with Mr Ironclad,' I said, heading off to my room. ‘Just go through.' Gran's house was always full of visitors. I decided to leave them to it. I wanted to make some more ‘lost' posters, and write today's Lucky poem.

I wished Mum had reception where she was so she could send me a text message or an e-mail. And I wished wherever Lucky was, he could write me a message, like he did once before …

Day 4 - Writer Dog

This is a true story

well - sort of

I leave the computer on

when we go to the shops

Mum, Molly and me

pile into the car

and leave Lucky behind

when we get back

there's a message

on the screen

ddddddddddddooogggggggsssssssrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooollllllllllll

It was a twenty-minute
walk from Gran's place to Mount Selview Consolidated School. We trudged in silence. Molly hadn't spoken a word since the day she'd flown off the handle and the geese had flown off the wall.

Four wonderful days without hearing my sister's voice.

I felt sorry for Gran, though. She'd tried everything to get her to talk. But it was no use, Molly only talks when she's ready. She went for two whole weeks, once, without talking to Mum. That was after the
Bungled Bus Incident,
the day Mum stayed home from work because I was sick.

Just after Molly had left for school, Mum noticed her lunch box on the kitchen bench. She decided she could catch up to the school bus if she was quick. So she dragged me out to the car and we took a short cut to one of the stops further along the route, where we could see some kids still waiting.

Mum shouldn't have hopped on the bus. That was her big mistake. She should've just given the lunch box to one of the kids to give to Molly. But instead, Mum scrambled out of the car as the bus pulled into the stop. She leapt up the steps as the last girl was getting on, practically knocking her over. That's the last I saw of Mum for about an hour. The driver refused to stop because he was running behind schedule. I just remember Mum's hands waving about frantically as it pulled out, and seeing Molly down the back on the window side. She had a look on her face I'd never seen before. Kind of demented.

Mount Selview is called a ‘Consolidated School' because it's got high-school kids as well as primary. The sign out the front says it was built in 1904, and I reckon they should add another line that says:
Still in Original Condition
. It reminded me of the school down the road at home, where the playground was wall-to-wall asphalt. At least Selview had a huge footy oval at the back and a couple of basketball courts. It seemed massive compared to my school at home. I thought about my friends, Josh and Andy, and wondered what they were doing now.

We turned into the long driveway that led to the front entrance. It was lined with plane trees that looked undressed without their leaves. As we crunched our way along the gravel, my stomach started to churn. What if no one talks to me at playtime or lunchtime? What if they do really hard maths? What if everyone looks at me because I haven't got a school uniform? What if the boys from the river are there? What if I do manage to make a friend, and Molly says something nasty to them?

My
what-iffing
was suddenly interrupted when Molly spoke. Gran and I both looked at her as if she'd just appeared out of a genie's lantern.

‘Stop staring at me, goggle-eyes,' Molly flashed at me, then turned to Gran. ‘So, can I go to the shop on my way home or not?' It was as if she'd admitted defeat now that we'd entered the school grounds – Gran had won, and there was no point continuing the silence.

‘Of course you can, love,' said Gran, looking relieved. She tugged at something near the top of her skirt, as if she was trying to hold it up. ‘Here, I'll give you some money and you can buy us all something for afternoon tea.'

‘Gran, haven't we already got a cupboard full of Mr Ironclad's doughnuts and fruit buns?' I asked. We were halfway up the drive, and my stomach felt like the butterfly house at the zoo.

‘Shut up, toad-face.' Molly held her hand out to Gran. ‘I'll buy something healthy, okay?'

Gran put a five-dollar note in Molly's hand, then turned to me.

‘Ish, when you come home from school, I've got a little job for you. And you, too, Molly.'

‘A job?' Molly looked at Gran as if she'd spoken in Mongolian.

‘Yes, I want you to mow the lawn and Ish to clean out the gutters. You can do it when you've had afternoon tea.'

‘Mow the lawn? Me? We're not your slaves. We came for a holiday. You've already ruined it by making us go to school!' Molly stopped walking and put her hands on her hips.

‘It won't take you long,' said Gran, sighing, ‘and anyway, you should be happy to help out with a job your grandfather would've done.'

‘I'm not mowing the lawn! Anyway, it's not that long. Who were your slaves before we came? Get them to do it.'

I couldn't believe how mean my sister could be. I looked at my watch and wished she'd shut up. The butterflies in my stomach were flapping all over the place. I just wanted to go in and get it over with.

‘A lovely young boy has been helping me, Molly. His mother died recently.' Gran had her hands on her hips, too. ‘But I don't want to bother him when you two could help.'

‘Well, I don't do mowing,' announced Molly, and headed off towards the front entrance.

‘Actually, Ish,' said Gran, ‘the boy's about your age. You could be in his class. His name's Brody Callahan.'

Great. Just what I didn't want to hear.

The three of us sat on a bench in a little waiting area outside the Principal's office. The door, which was closed, had a sign on it that read:
Mr Stilt: Principal.
I wondered if he'd be tall and skinny. The school day had already started and it was quiet except for some distant yelling out on the oval. Gran and Molly chatted, as if they were trying to make up for the last four days. I sat doing deep breathing exercises, trying to stop all the fluttering going on in my stomach.

Suddenly, the door burst open, making us jump. A little man with a bald head stepped out into the waiting room. He looked agitated. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Mr Stilt. You must be Mrs Douglas, and these are your grandchildren, Molly and Michael? My secretary is away today and quite frankly, it's chaos here without her. Worth her weight in gold, she is. Come in, come in.' He held the door open and waved us in.