Labradoodle on the Loose (10 page)

‘Your mum should be a chef,' said Fifty. He was playing with the candles. Fire is his favourite thing, after sugar.

‘She was for a while,' said Patrick. ‘When we had our own restaurant.' I didn't know they used to have a restaurant. I've never known what jobs Bee's mum and dad did.

‘I wouldn't mind being a baker,' said Bee. ‘Making cakes and pastries.'

That started a whole long conversation that went round and round the table about things you could be, or couldn't be, or wouldn't be or might be. An Antarctic explorer, a professional football player, a newsreader, an actor, a writer, a surfer, a barrister, a bank robber, a tightrope walker.

‘Funny how no one wants to work in a supermarket,' said Louis.

‘I'd rather be a bin man,' said Copper Pie. ‘Finished by lunchtime.'

‘That's what we should do,' said Patrick. ‘Life on the bins.'

‘Do you work in a supermarket?' Fifty asked Louis.

‘I do. And so does my brother.' Louis slapped Patrick on the back. They laughed.

‘We should have stayed on at school and passed some exams,' said Patrick.

‘Ignore them,' said Bee. ‘They're idiots.' I didn't want to ignore them, they were interesting. I could see that Jonno
thought so too. (He's an only child, which he hates, and his house is quiet and tidy, which he hates, and his parents are always moving house, which he hates. He's always round at Bee's.)

‘We're going to be millionaires,' said Patrick.

‘As soon as we get the right idea,' said Louis.

‘We're entrepreneurs,' said Patrick.

‘Shelf-stacking's not for ever,' said Louis.

‘We hope.' They said it together again, and laughed. They laughed almost all the time in fact. Being at Bee's in the charge of her brothers was fun, better than laser tag or a football party.

‘Make way,' shouted Louis. He was carrying a tray with even more food, but this time it really was pudding. We tried to clear a space but there were too many dishes and too many people passing them in too many different directions.

Bee took over. ‘Jonno, put the dirty plates by the sink. Fifty – you're on knives and forks. Copper Pie, take the pasta bowl and put it by the cooker. Keener, can you take the big pot and put it
on
the cooker? I'll put the sauce back in the fridge.' We all did as we were told. It was worth it – Louis placed a massive pavlova filled with strawberries and fluffy white cream on the table, followed by a brown and yellow custardy-looking thing. (No prizes for guessing which one I wanted.)

Patrick picked up the whole pavlova, tipped the plate
and pretended to let it slide into his mouth. Louis took it off him and started dishing out.

‘Leave room for the birthday girl's birthday cake,' he said. ‘The best is yet to come.'

We all groaned. Bee's mum really knows how to cook. If we lived with Bee we'd all be the size of yetis. I loaded my spoon with equal amounts of meringue, cream and straw-berry, opened my mouth and scoffed. It was good. I was happy. The sponsored silence was no fun whatsoever but Bee's last-minute party was great.

But unfortunately it was all about to go wrong – big time.

The back door opened.

‘Hey, Slim,' said Patrick. ‘Come and feast.'

Someone called Slim came in. He was skinny. ‘What's happening?' he said.

‘It's Bee's birthday.'

‘Happy birthday, Bee,' said Slim.

Bee didn't smile. I got the feeling Slim wasn't her favourite person, or maybe she just didn't want him at her party.

The conversation slowed down, partly because pudding was delicious, and partly because Patrick stayed over by the cooker chatting to Slim, who was eating the leftover meat stew straight from the pot with a serving spoon. There was a knock on the door and it opened again.

‘Hey, Bodger,' said Patrick. In came someone called
Bodger. He had hair redder than Copper Pie's and curlier than Fifty's, sticking out like a frill from under a blue and green stripy beanie.

‘Any left?' said Bodger. There was nodding from Slim. They shared the serving spoon. Bee definitely wasn't smiling.

‘OK, everyone,' said Louis. ‘I think it's cake time.' He disappeared out of the door to the hall and came back a couple of minutes later with about fifty candles burning on top of a mound of chocolate. He started the singing.

‘Buon Compleanno a te
,

‘Buon Compleanno a te
,

‘Buon Compleanno cara Beatrice
,

‘Buon Compleanno a te
.

We all joined in, in English, except Patrick who was in a huddle with Bodger and Slim. Bee did one massive puff and blew all the candles out.

‘Are you cutting the cake, Bee?' asked Louis.

‘Of course.' Bee took the knife and started slicing. I didn't think I was going to fit it in but the sponge bit was like eating a sweet cloud and the chocolate bit was heaven so I managed.

We'd been sitting at the table for ages so I was quite glad when Bee got up. She offered to help clear but Louis said he'd do it. Patrick seemed to have forgotten it was Bee's birthday. We abandoned the kitchen for the comfy sofa in front of the telly. Five of us squashed on together which left Fifty to sit on the footstool.

Bee had chosen
The Italian Job
– the original version with the minis and the coach hanging over the cliff. It's a Tribe favourite.

While we were waiting for the
play movie
icon to come up, there was more knocking at the back door followed by at least one, maybe two, new voices. I looked over at Bee. She shrugged. ‘It was always like this when the twins lived here. Random people arriving and leaving and eating and sleeping and leaving hoodies and taking Dad's coat and using all the loo roll. That's why Dad made them leave.'

The beginning of the film shows Michael Caine leaving prison. It's not noisy like it is later when there are car chases. We could hear Patrick and Louis and their mates shouting in the kitchen. We put up with it for a while but we couldn't really hear, or concentrate on what was happening. Bee pressed
pause
and went to sort them out. We heard her giving them the Bee treatment. It works on us. She came back and pressed
play
. It was quieter for maybe ten minutes, but then they started laughing and yelling and there was some crashing and banging like chairs falling over and pans being dropped. Bee turned up the volume, but
The Italian Job
couldn't drown out Slim and Bodger and whoever else was in Bee's kitchen. She cranked it up again. It was no good. On top of everything else we could hear singing, the sort you'd hear at a football match. Bee paused it again. The noise was deafening. It sounded like there was at least a rugby team in there. And breaking glass!
Maybe they were fighting
. . .

‘I'll come with you,' said Jonno. ‘If that will help.'

‘Thanks,' said Bee, ‘but they probably won't take any notice. My brothers wouldn't manage to behave properly even if someone like the Queen was here.' It wasn't like Bee to give in. I felt really bad for her. I mean, it was her birthday and her brothers were ruining the film, ruining the whole evening.

‘Come on, let's go and talk to them,' said Jonno. ‘It's worth a try.'

Copper Pie got up and marched straight into the kitchen without waiting for anyone else. ‘Shut up!' I heard him shout as I walked into the hall. ‘We're trying to watch a film and all we can hear is you lot.'

For a moment there was complete and utter silence. It was almost funny. Like everyone had been waxworked.

‘Sorry,' said a stranger who was helping himself to Bee's birthday cake.

‘Maybe leave some cake, Rasher,' said Louis. The stranger looked up at Bee and put what was left of the huge lump of cake in his hand back on the plate.

‘We were just chatting, Bee. We'll be off out soon.' Patrick gave Bee a cheesy smile. Bee didn't smile back.

‘Don't be a bore,' said the fourth friend – who was posh. ‘It's Friday night. And that's the weekend. Yay!'

Louis tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Teapot, my sister's not finding this funny and you're not helping.' (I know we've got odd nicknames but Slim, Bodger, Rasher and Teapot are totally stupid.)

‘Why don't you leave now,' said Bee. ‘We'll be fine without you.'

‘But we're babysitting,' said Louis. ‘Mum said.'

‘You're hardly looking after me, are you?' There were tears in Bee's eyes.

‘Time to go, everyone,' said Louis. ‘Patrick, you go with the others and I'll wait for Mum.'

‘Come with us. Bee'll be fine, won't you?' said Patrick.

‘We can't leave her. She's
eleven
,' said Louis. He waved his arm across the room. ‘They're all
eleven
.' Patrick didn't look as if he cared whether we were eleven, or whether we were elves. He just wanted to go out. I decided the brothers (well him anyway) weren't as nice as I thought.

Bodger, Slim and Rasher headed for the door.

‘Sorry,' said Slim. ‘Just having a laugh.'

Teapot stayed where he was – leaning back on his chair with one foot resting on the edge of the table. Copper Pie kicked Teapot's leg away and he nearly fell over backwards. ‘Steady on,' he said. (I thought people only spoke like that in old films.) Then he got up and left.

Louis followed them all out. ‘I'll be back in a sec, Bee.'

The back door banged shut.
Phew! Crisis over
. The exact second I had that thought there were two quick hard knocks on the front door.
Or maybe not
. . .

We all looked at each other. There were two more short sharp raps on the door. We did more looking.

‘It must be them,' said Lily. ‘Mucking about.'

‘Must be,' said Jonno.

‘Same,' said Fifty.

‘So no point answering,' said Copper Pie.

‘Unless it's your mum,' I said to Bee.

‘She has a
key
, Keener.'

Whoever was knocking definitely didn't have a key. This time there were three raps.

‘I'd better get it,' said Bee. ‘Maybe Patrick's stuffed Louis in a tree or something.'
Not the first explanation I'd have thought of, but Bee knows her brothers better than we do
.

Bee hurried to the door and we shadowed her. I don't
know why but I was a bit spooked. She opened the door.

‘You took your time —' The person at the door stopped mid-sentence.
Oh dear!
It was Sergeant Farrow, dog-finder, little-sister-finder, and, at this moment, not the nice police-man we knew, but an angry-looking policeman. He had the same woman officer with him.

‘Hello,' said Fifty.

‘Not you kids again,' he said.
Not pleased to see us
was an understatement.

‘Is there a problem?' said Jonno.

‘Yes, that is usually why we bang on doors at . . .' He looked at his watch. ‘. . . ten o'clock at night.'

What had we done?
The only thing I could think was that maybe
The Italian Job
was a 15 certificate and the TV licensing people had a monitor inside the telly and could see we were only eleven.

‘Are your parents in?' said the woman police officer.

Bee shook her head. ‘But my brother's here.'

‘Where exactly?' said Sergeant Farrow.

‘In the garden, I think,' said Bee.

He scanned our faces before he continued. ‘There's been a complaint about the noise coming from this house. And suggestions of a fight.' I knew he thought it was us. If only Bodger and Teapot and that lot hadn't just left.

‘Sorry,' said Jonno. ‘It wasn't us.'

‘Of course it wasn't,' said Sergeant Farrow. ‘It was all the other people in the house.' He made a point of looking
behind us for all the non-existent people. ‘Shall we see if we can find that brother?'

We moved aside to let the two of them in. Bee went to the kitchen, they followed and we trailed behind. No whispering, no funny looks. I don't know about the others but I was thinking about the Three Strikes Law – we'd lost the dog, stolen Probably Rose and were guilty of being in a noisy house. Did that mean we were in big young-offenders'-institute-type trouble?

Louis came in the back door at the same time as Bee stepped into the kitchen from the hall. He saw the uniforms. They saw him.

‘Well, well, another familiar face,' said Sergeant Farrow.

Louis went beetroot, worse than the raspberry colour I go. ‘What's up?' he said.

‘The same thing I was called here for a few months ago as I remember – a disturbance, reported by your neighbour.'

‘It's all over,' said Louis. ‘It was just some friends.'

‘Like last time. A few high spirits, was it?'

‘That's right.' Louis's face darkened to maroon. ‘Sorry.'

‘So you probably think we should just let it go, do you?'

‘We'd be very grateful,' said Bee. ‘It's my birthday.' As she said
birthday
her face crumpled up. It hadn't exactly been a brilliant day.

‘Well, I'm afraid that's not quite how it works. Let's take some names and addresses, shall we?' My heart accelerated to maximum speed ready to burst out and run
away up the street on its own.