Unleashed! (5 page)

‘No.’ The man’s bottom lip jutted out. He snatched a tissue from a box and began mopping his face. ‘I said no such thing.’

Darcy butted in, saying, ‘Yesterday I spoke to a lady. She said you’d keep her till we got here. I told her we were coming today, late morning. Maybe we can speak to her. Is she here?’

‘Lady?’ echoed the man. ‘I know nothing about any lady.’ He hesitated, weighing each word as he spoke. ‘I’m sorry, kids. Your dog’s gone. Much as we’d like to, we can’t keep ’em all.’ He closed the diary, signalling the end to the conversation, and
grabbed a set of keys. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, it’s time to lock up.’

The kids trudged out to their bikes. Clem moved like a zombie. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, no, no.’ As if on cue a mournful cry filled the air, a wailing in tandem with Clem. It sounded like a dog saying,
No, no, no!

It was mid-afternoon. The kids sat in Mr Lark’s kitchen. They watched as he scooped powdered chocolate into two mugs of milk and headed for the microwave. ‘Poor little mite,’ he said. ‘Tell me all the details after I’ve got your drinks.’ Mr Lark went to the microwave, took out one steaming mug of hot chocolate and handed it to Bryce. The other he handed to Clem. ‘Get that into you. It’ll make you feel better.’

‘No, it won’t.’ Clem rested her head on the kitchen table, her face blotchy, eyes swollen. ‘Nothing will make me feel better except saving that beautiful dog.’

Bryce took a sip of hot chocolate, leaving a moustache above his lip.
‘Chocolate,’
he sang.
‘Tastes so sweet.’
Then he stopped and took another sip. ‘This
does
help. Thanks heaps, Mr Lark. Hot chocolate’s one of my favourites.’

‘Want one, Mio? Darcy?’ Mr Lark was already reaching for the mugs when together they answered, ‘Yes, please.’

Mr Lark winked as the chocolatey milk was warming. ‘Got something that might cheer you lot up.’ He reached inside the fridge and pulled out a plastic-wrapped log shape. ‘Pastry. For shortbread clusters.’

‘Shortbread.
Yummm.’
Bryce licked the chocolate off his lips. ‘My—’

‘Favourite,’ finished Mio with a withering look.

‘I can’t help it if Mr Lark’s such a great cook,’ said Bryce, patting his tummy. ‘Everything he makes is my favourite.’

‘Learnt from an expert, I did,’ said Mr Lark with a smile. Taking the plastic wrap off the pastry he started cutting it into rounds, then placing them on a baking tray. ‘Mrs Lark was a mighty fine cook. Her shortbread was so good it could’ve been made in heaven.’ He looked upwards and chuckled. ‘Prob’ly still is.’

‘Can I have mine raw?’ asked Darcy as he reached for the uncooked pastry. ‘It’s better that way.’ He shoved the whole round in his mouth and started chewing, making
nyumm, nyumm
noises.

Mio pulled a face, saying, ‘That’s disgusting.’

Clem gave a half-smile. She knew exactly where Darcy was coming from. ‘In our house it’s first in, best dressed. Wait for something to cook and you may as well kiss it goodbye.’

‘He who hesitates is lost,’ said Mr Lark. He continued to cut the log into rounds. ‘My old army sergeant told me that.’ Then he giggled.
‘After
the poor bugger had his hat shot off.’

‘You can’t afford to hesitate in our house.’ Clem thought of that morning’s breakfast at her grandparents’ when her brothers ate every cherry blintze pancake and left her none. ‘Darcy, Jonas, Bruno, and Tim are such greedy guts.’

‘What about little Drew?’ asked Mio.

‘He’s a pig, too, but he’s still too small to be one of The Competition.’

‘Oh, wah!’ said Darcy, leaning over and pinching Clem’s waist. ‘You’re not exactly a skeleton.’

‘Don’t!’ Clem pinched Darcy back, only harder, then back-stepped to get out of his way. She laughed when he lunged and missed.

‘Now, now, you two. There’s plenty of mixture to go round.’ Mr Lark held up the rest of the pastry log and asked, ‘So, who wants cooked and who wants raw?’

In less than twenty minutes he was pulling the shortbread, now golden brown, out of the oven and
sliding the biscuits onto a plate. Steam swirled in mouth-watering spirals. ‘Help yourselves.’

No-one spoke as they reached for the biscuits. The shortbread exploded with the warm taste of sugar and butter, then melted to nothingness.

Mr Lark sampled one, too. ‘Not bad. Not as good as Mrs Lark’s, mind, but not bad.’

‘Mum doesn’t have time for baking,’ said Clem. She reached for a second biscuit and shoved it in her mouth, sending crumbs flying. ‘She’s hard pressed to make dinner, let alone afternoon tea.’

‘My mum only bakes once a year,’ said Mio with a sigh. ‘For our Girls’ Festival. She makes these diamond-shaped rice cakes called
hishimochi.’
Mio picked up another piece of shortbread and shrugged. ‘The rest of the time she works.’

‘She makes great sushi,’ said Bryce. ‘Remember the time you brought it to school for International Day?’ He licked his lips as he, too, grabbed more shortbread.

Mio’s lips tugged upwards as she conceded, ‘Yes, Mum does make great sushi.’

‘At least you lot live with your mothers.’ Bryce bit into his third biscuit. ‘I’m stuck with Cara who can’t even boil water. Not that Mum’s much better.’

Mr Lark sat at the table, enjoying the sight of the disappearing biscuits. ‘Everyone’s so busy these days. Far too busy. No time for life’s small
pleasures.’ He looked around the table. ‘Now you’ve eaten your fill, tell me about this dog.’

The kids told him about seeing the dog in the park, about her cruel owner, and her love of mischief. ‘Sounds like a retriever I once knew.’ Mr Lark went quiet as he added, ‘Poor thing.’

‘Why?’ asked Clem, brushing the crumbs off the table into her cupped hand. ‘What happened to it?’

Mr Lark looked out the window. He took his time in answering. ‘It’s not for your ears, young lady. Besides, it happened a long time ago.’

‘What was its name?’ persisted Clem.

Mr Lark laughed as he told her, ‘Pineapple.’

‘Pineapple?’ asked Bryce. ‘How could you call a dog Pineapple?’

‘’Cause he was short and round and just a little bit prickly…Now, what were you saying?’

‘So we tracked her down to the Braxxby Animal Shelter.’

‘They said they’d keep her till we got there.’

‘But when we were there this man told us she’d…’ Bryce’s voice broke. ‘She’d…’ He threw up his hands and slumped in his chair.

Darcy tried to explain. ‘You see, some animal shelters have a “No Kill” policy but this one doesn’t, so…’

‘She’s dead!’ cried Clem, snatching a tissue. Her shoulders heaved. She tried to cry quietly, but
between the whimpers, the sobs and the nose blowing she sounded like an orchestra warming up.

Mr Lark came over and patted her on the back, saying, ‘There, there. Things have a way of turning out right in the end.’

‘But this
is
the end and things haven’t turned out right.’ Clem blew her nose, reminding Mr Lark of a bugler playing ‘The Last Post’. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t.’

The five sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, when all of a sudden Clem leapt to her feet. ‘That’s it!’ Her sobs stopped instantly.

‘That’s what?’ asked Darcy.

Clem leaned on the kitchen table, tapping her fingers as she thought aloud. ‘This whole thing doesn’t make any sense.’ The tapping got faster.

‘You’re the one not making sense,’ said Darcy. He picked up a spoon and twirled it between his fingers.

Clem plucked it off him, saying, ‘Darcy, listen. Yesterday you spoke on the phone to a woman.’ ‘Correct.’

‘A woman who told you that she’d hold the dog.’

‘Promised,’ interrupted Darcy. ‘Not just told me. She
promised
they’d hold her.’

‘So why would they promise to keep a dog and then put her down?’ By now, Clem had everyone’s attention. She waved the spoon as she spoke.

‘I don’t know,’ said Mio with a shrug. She frowned as she wrestled with the idea. ‘Why?’

‘Because, silly, they did
not
put her down.’

‘Why would they tell us that they did if they didn’t?’ asked Darcy. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Because they’re hiding something.’ Clem’s eyes lit up. ‘My bet is they’ve still got the dog. It all adds up.’

‘What adds up?’

‘First, Darcy spoke to a woman who promised to hold the dog till we could get there.’ Clem’s eyes sparkled as she looked from Darcy to the others. ‘Then there’s this man at Reception who says he doesn’t know what woman we’re talking about. She’s some mystery woman.’ All eyes were on Clem. ‘Next, he tells us they’ve put the dog down, even though she’s only been there one day. No animal shelter does that. Like the man said, dogs usually get five days. Or longer. I looked it up on the net.’ Heads were now nodding. ‘Something’s suss. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I intend to find out.’

‘Look here, Clem,’ said Mr Lark. ‘Animal shelters try to help dogs find an owner. They care about their strays, would do anything to save them. Why would this one be the exception?’

‘I don’t know.’ Clem got up and walked over to the sink, then turned, her hands clasped in front. ‘But it is.’

‘How come you’re so sure?’ Mio still looked doubtful.

‘Because of the cry!’ said Clem as she unclasped her hands. ‘At the shelter we heard this gutwrenching cry.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So what?’

Clem ran her fingers through her hair. ‘The dog in the park had that same cry. Sort of like the peals of a bell.’

‘All beagles sound like that,’ said Mr Lark gently. ‘It’s the breed.’

‘I know,’ said Clem. ‘They call it beagle music.’

‘I know a woman who breeds ’em. They all do it.’

‘See?!’ Clem looked triumphant. She walked back to the table and sat down, her head spinning with plans.

‘But, Clem, it may not be your dog,’ said Mr Lark, leaning back in his chair. ‘You could’ve heard any old beagle.’

‘No!’ Clem’s eyes widened with excitement. She looked around the puzzled faces, then using her fingers she ticked off each point. ‘We all heard the beagle cry in the park.’ Three heads nodded. ‘We all heard a dog yesterday with exactly the same cry.’ More nods. ‘When Darcy phoned, the woman said that they had one
beagle—a female, tri-colour. Right?’ Even more nods. ‘Then today they say, “Sorry. We put that beagle down.”’ She had everyone’s complete attention. ‘Yesterday we were told they had one beagle. Today we’re told there’s none.’ She leaned forward. Her voice dropped as she asked, ‘So what beagle did we hear?’

Mio’s eyes pinged open. Bryce started to smile but Darcy still looked sceptical. ‘Sounds like you’re splitting hairs.’

‘Very clever, Clem,’ said Mr Lark, nodding. His eyes glowed with admiration. ‘Remind me to be on your side if we ever go to war.’

‘I’ll ask again.’ Clem emphasised each word. ‘What beagle did we hear?’

The question floated. Somewhere close by someone was mowing a lawn and there was the tinkle of birds, calling to each other.

‘I could give the shelter a call right now,’ said Mr Lark, rising from his chair. ‘Ask them if they’ve got a beagle. They won’t know I’ve got anything to do with you.’

‘Too late,’ said Darcy. His lips pressed into a grim line. ‘It’s closed.’

Mio clicked her fingers. ‘I know!’ she said. ‘When we were there I noticed they had a website. They listed all the lost and found animals. Let’s check it out.’

They crammed around Mr Lark’s computer, which had barely been used, and waited for it to boot up. ‘Come on,’ moaned Mio. ‘This machine is so slow!’

Mr Lark chuckled, saying, ‘Bit like its owner.’

Finally, they got to the Braxxby website. They clicked on ‘Search’ and put in the particulars.

Breed—Beagle.

A few seconds later they were told, ‘There are no matches.’

On the way home the kids rode single file, playing a half-hearted follow-the-leader. Mio was leader. First, she stood up to pedal so everyone stood up and pedalled. Next, she pedalled faster and faster and the others did, too. Mio stopped pedalling and cruised. She let go of one hand and raised her fist to the air.

‘You look like Helen of Troy in this movie,’ called Bryce, then raising his arm he cruised and said, ‘And I’m a gladiator.’

Darcy went one step further. With a quick pedal to get up speed he let go one hand, then two, holding them out from his sides while he stood on the pedals, his face tilted to the sun. ‘Titanic!’

At that exact moment Clem yelled, ‘Stop!’

Mio grabbed her handlebars and braked with a jerk. Bryce just missed her as he, too, came to a wobbly halt.

Poor Darcy lost his balance and crashed into a street sign before falling onto a stretch of grass. ‘Whatcha do that for?’ he asked, rubbing his elbow and inspecting his knee.

‘Titanic hit an iceberg,’ said Bryce with a smirk, then he leaned down to pull Darcy up.

Clem had stopped in the middle of the road. ‘We have to go back and find that beagle.
Now!’

‘We can’t.’ Bryce looked at her as if she was mad. ‘It’s shut.’

‘We don’t know for sure if the man did take his beagle to the pound,’ said Darcy. ‘The dog may be curled up somewhere safe and sound with her owner.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Mio as she scratched underneath her chin strap. ‘We may be chasing shadows.’

Clem bit her lower lip. ‘I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to free that puppy
now.
There’s a veterinary clinic there, for emergencies and stuff. Maybe they can help us?’

‘It’s a long shot,’ said Bryce. ‘But it might just work.’ He thought of a long shot he took in the past, the one that didn’t pay off, and sighed.

‘Let’s do it!’ Clem held out her hand. ‘Go, the Freewheelers.’

But the others didn’t reply.

A motorbike went past, its exhaust coughing smoke and making loud spluttering sounds. Mio waited till it had gone then
trrrang
the bell on her bike. ‘Why don’t we just phone? It would be heaps easier.’

‘Good idea,’ said Darcy. Pulling out the phone he scrolled down for the number.

‘No!’ Clem pushed his hand away. ‘Phoning’s no good. Anyone can bar you on a phone. It’s different if you’re face-to-face.’

‘She’s right.’ Bryce tapped his fingers on the handlebars as he sang,
‘Saw you today. Made my day. “Get lost” is just a call away.’

Clem was still holding out her hand. She couldn’t believe that no-one was joining her. ‘Who’s with me? Who wants to rescue the beagle? That’s what we believe in, isn’t it? Freedom?’

The others looked away.

Clem tried again, raising her hand higher and saying, ‘Freewheelers!’

Finally, Darcy held out his hand too. ‘Freewheelers. But we’ll have to clear it with Mum and Dad first. We don’t want to be in trouble for getting home late on a Sunday.’

‘Why don’t we go tomorrow?’ suggested Mio. ‘There’s no school. It’s a pupil-free day.’ She smiled inwardly, pleased at her brainwave.

‘Tomorrow might be too late. I’ve got a hunch we have to move quickly.’ Clem was insistent. ‘That means
now.’

Bryce held out his hand then said, ‘Count me in. Go the Freewheelers.’

One hand didn’t join in.

‘Mio?’ asked Clem.

Mio
trrrang
her bell again. ‘I can’t. I’ve got homework and violin practice and study and stuff.’ She sat back on her saddle, ready to push off. ‘I have to go.’

‘Do them tomorrow. You’ll have heaps of time then.’

‘No.’ Mio shook her head as she faced Clem’s glare. ‘I must go.’

As she put her foot on the pedal Clem grabbed the handlebars and said, ‘You’re no Freewheeler, then.’

Mio could see that Clem didn’t understand. She knew that her parents worked hard to give her the opportunities they hadn’t had. She couldn’t let them down. She just couldn’t. She held Clem’s stare for the longest time before pushing off with a ‘Suit yourself’.

Bryce called out, ‘Mio, stop,’ but she pedalled faster. He whirled to face Clem, saying, ‘Whatcha say that for? Being a Freewheeler means you’re free to make your own decisions. You don’t have to go along with the rest.’

Darcy spoke quietly. ‘He’s right, Clem. Mio doesn’t have to jump just because you tell her to.’

Clem closed her eyes and whispered, ‘Whatever.’ She sighed as she adjusted her seating. ‘You two still coming or do I have to do this alone?’

‘I’m in.’

‘Me, too.’

Clem glanced at her watch, saying, ‘We’d better let Mum know, then.’

The twins phoned home, explaining that they were doing a ‘project’ and that they needed another couple of hours. ‘Okay,’ said their mum. ‘But be home before dark.’

Bryce borrowed their phone and called his dad’s place. ‘C’mon, Cara,’ he pleaded. ‘What am I gonna do at home? Sit on my bum and watch TV?’ He scuffed at a clump of grass, making a hole in the soft soil. ‘Sit on my
bottom,
then. Bike-riding’s far better than that. Please can I go?’ He listened intently. ‘Sure. I will. And Cara, er, thanks.’ He looked at Clem and Darcy and told them, ‘I’ve got two hours. Any later and I’m grounded.’

‘Yes!’ Clem pushed off. ‘Let’s go.’

The sun was low in the sky when they pulled up outside the animal shelter. A lamp light illuminated the only car that was still in the car park.

‘At least one person must be here,’ announced Clem.

They propped their bikes and helmets against a wall before heading for the Emergency section of the main office.

‘Closed,’ read Darcy, pointing to the door. ‘Open between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. Sundays.’

Clem thumped the door frame with the base of her hand as she said, ‘What sort of Emergency is that!’

Bryce pointed to the sign. ‘Look. There’s an after hours number. Maybe we should give them a call. You never know. Someone might be out the back.’

Disappointment sat like a boulder in Clem’s throat. She swallowed, trying to push it away, then said, ‘It’s worth a try, I guess. Darce, hand me the phone.’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Darcy. He punched in the number and waited. Clem cracked her knuckles. Bryce inspected the hole in his sleeve. ‘Recorded message,’ said Darcy. ‘It says to ring the animal hospital at Wandinya.’

‘Keep the number,’ said Clem. ‘You never know, we might need it.’

As Darcy keyed in the number Bryce reached up and gave a sharp rap on the door. He looked at Clem and shrugged. ‘No stone unturned and all that.’

They waited, eyes glued, hoping someone was working back late. No-one came.

‘Not hard enough,’ said Bryce, then he gave the door a
thwack, thwack, thwack.

They waited again, their hearts pounding.

Bryce rubbed his reddened hand, saying, ‘Let’s go. No-one’s here.’

Just as they turned to go an
Owww-woww-woww
could be heard.

‘It’s her!’ cried Clem, tugging at Darcy’s sleeve. ‘I’d know that cry anywhere. Question is, where’s it coming from?’ She rushed to the reception office, still filled with darkness, and pressed her ear against the door.

No-oh-w. No-oh-w. No-oh-w.

‘Not in here,’ announced Clem, pulling away. With long strides she paced round the compound, stopping every now and again to listen. Suddenly, she came to a standstill. She strained to hear, then frantically looked for something to climb on. Spotting the bin she called, ‘Darcy. Bryce. Over here.’

Darcy ran over as Clem pushed the bin against the fence which was wooden and covered in ivy. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked as he grabbed Clem’s shoulder. ‘Clem, no.’

Bryce grabbed Clem’s wrist, saying, ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Nup.’ Clem shrugged from the boys’ grasp. She stood with her hands on her hips, her head raised. ‘I’m going to jump the fence and you’re not going to stop me.’ She turned and pulled herself up on the bin.

‘No!’ Darcy grabbed a fistful of Clem’s shirt and tried to pull her down, but Clem kicked him away.

Bryce gripped onto her ankle, saying, ‘We can’t break in. It’s illegal.’

Another mournful cry pierced the air. ‘Listen to her!’ Clem snarled. ‘She’s hurting. We have to help her.’ Twisting from Darcy’s grasp and shaking free from Bryce she clambered the fence.

The cry went up again. This time other dogs joined in. There was an explosion of barking.

‘Clem, don’t!’ Bryce broke into a sweat. His face went red as he thought of the consequences. ‘I can’t get into any more trouble. I just can’t.’

Darcy felt torn. Part of him wanted to help Clem rescue the dog, whatever it took. And part of him felt sorry for Bryce.

Clem stopped climbing. She hung suspended like a monkey from a branch and hissed, ‘Chickens! That’s what you both are—big fat chickens.’

‘We’ll come back tomorrow.’ Darcy looked around, worried about the noise. ‘Promise.’

‘Tomorrow isn’t good enough,’ snapped Clem as she almost lost her grip. ‘We have to find her, now.’ She tried to climb further but the vine was spindly and there was no toe-hold to lever herself up.

‘Clem!’ Darcy was yelling now. ‘No!’

‘I can’t believe you’re doing this.’

‘We don’t want to break in.’

‘But listen.’ Another mournful wail swelled, then faded, only to swell again. ‘How can we leave her?’

‘We have no choice.’

Bryce stabbed the air with his finger. ‘I can’t afford to get in trouble, Clem. If I get caught I’ll be sent to juvenile detention. It’s all right for you but I’ve got too much to lose. We’ll do this tomorrow, legit. I’ll meet you first thing. Promise.’

‘Don’t bother!’ Clem was too angry to see the hurt in Bryce’s face.

‘See ya, then,’ said Bryce as he walked across the car park.

‘We’re coming, too,’ said Darcy. He followed Bryce, calling, ‘C’mon, Clem. Let’s go. We’ve done as much as we can today. We’ll be back tomorrow.’

Darcy and Bryce picked up their bikes and settled themselves on the seats, strapping their helmets on. At the same time Clem began to climb down. She was part-way there when all of a sudden a light shone in her face.

‘Oy!’ said a man wearing navy overalls and black work boots. The man’s cap said
Caretaker.
‘What you up to?’ He strode closer, pointing the beam in Clem’s eyes. She shimmied down the fence, then faltered, wondering where the bin was.

‘To your left!’ screamed Darcy, so hard it hurt his throat. As he fumbled to find his pedal, Clem’s foot finally made contact with the bin. ‘Run, Clem. Run!’

‘This way!’ called Bryce. ‘Quick!’

Clem leapt towards the boys but the caretaker ducked and weaved and cut her off.

‘Aaaagh!’ Clem tried to backtrack but the man came after her.

Darcy grabbed Clem’s bike from the fence. Riding in tandem he zoomed up to her, screaming, ‘Get on! Get on!’

The caretaker made a grab for the handlebars but missed, snatching the helmet instead.

Clem flung her leg over the top tube bar and scrambled on her seat. The caretaker tried to crash-tackle her but Clem was too fast. I’m no Freewheeler for nothing! she thought.

The three of them whizzed across the car park towards the exit. The caretaker waved a fist at them. He threw the helmet, hitting Clem in the back. Darcy doubled back to scoop it up, then accelerated to be as close to Clem as possible.

They passed through the gate when all of a sudden a figure loomed in front. A figure with ivory skin and black hair.

‘Mio!’ they cried.

Then hearts lurched and thudded.

It was not Mio.