I pushed my knife and fork together. I was about to tell Dad that actually he was completely wrong and Tina and I knew where they were and we were going to rescue them, SO THERE, when Dad opened his big mouth again.
‘I know it’s upsetting, Trev, but we have to be realistic. What are the chances of us finding those puppies? Practically zero. They could be anywhere. It’s not even worth looking.’
That was the decider. Tina and I would do it on our own and show everyone.
Tina called round in the middle of the afternoon. She had a small backpack slung over one shoulder. ‘Supplies,’ she explained.
‘Like what?’
‘Camera, torch, cos it’ll be dark by five, Dictaphone for recording, can of cream –’
‘Idiot!’
‘I thought your thumb might still be sore.’ Tina grinned.
‘Ha ha. Anything else?’
Her eyes lit up. ‘Bar of chocolate.’
‘Great,’ I said, although I couldn’t understand why she was waving it in front of my nose. I reached inside my pocket, brought out a tube and held it up for Tina to see. ‘I’ve got something too,’ I announced proudly. ‘Shoe polish.’
Tina glanced at our shoes in bewilderment. ‘Do they need polishing?’
‘It’s for our faces. It’ll be good camouflage in the dark.’
Tina scowled. ‘Urgh! Haven’t you had enough of being mucky?’
‘Tina, we are going on a dangerous mission to rescue Streaker’s puppies from a tough gangster and the less Charlie can see of us, the better.’ I slipped the tube back in my pocket. ‘OK, let’s go.’
As we slipped out of the front door with Streaker, Dad saw us. ‘Where are you two off to?’
‘We’re still looking for the puppies,’ Tina answered.
‘It’s too late. We’ll never find them now. You’re wasting your time,’ Dad told her. Tina and I exchanged knowing glances and set off for our appointment with the puppies, and quite possibly Death at the hands of Charlie Smugg.
9. Attack! Attack!
We reached the lock-ups and went straight to the puppies. As soon as they heard our voices and Streaker scrabbling at the door they came to the other side, yipping and yapping like crazy. We could hear their little paws scraping away at the metal in a useless attempt to escape. It was heartbreaking.
Tina rummaged around in her bag and produced the Dictaphone. She held the little machine to the garage door and recorded the puppies. She added some whispered comments.
‘I am standing outside the padlocked door of number seven garage. The noises you are listening to belong to three stolen puppies that have been locked away here by Charlie Smugg. We are now waiting for Charlie to collect them. He intends to sell them off for Christmas but Trevor and I are going to stop him. This is Tina and Trevor reporting from number seven lock-up. Now it’s back to the studio.’
‘What studio?’ I asked.
‘It’s what reporters say when they’ve finished reporting,’ Tina murmured.
‘You’re bonkers,’ I muttered, handing her the shoe polish. ‘Here, rub it all over your face.’
‘After you,’ Tina replied, watching me smear black across my cheeks, nose, chin and round my eyes. I handed her the little tub and she promptly stuck the lid on very firmly and gave it back.
‘You’re welcome to look like an idiot,’ she said. ‘I have my pride.’
‘If Charlie spots you, everything will be ruined.’
‘Well, he won’t spot me because we are going to hide behind those old boxes and crates.’
Tina pointed out a pile of junk nearby, still coated with a powdering of snow. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be and Streaker didn’t want to settle at all. She was determined to dig a hole right through the concrete and into that garage to free her pups. When she wasn’t allowed to do that she began barking and then howling.
‘Awhoooooo! Aaaaaaaaawhoooooooooooooo!!’
‘For heaven’s sake,’ I said. ‘Keep quiet, or Charlie will know we’re here.’
‘Ahhhwhooooooooo!’
Tina fished about in her backpack again and this time she produced a packet of dog biscuits. ‘They’re Mouse’s. I don’t suppose he’ll mind.’ She put a few on the ground next to us and Streaker snaffled them as if she hadn’t been fed for a month.
We squatted behind the boxes and waited. Then we waited some more. It was very boring. Tina got out the chocolate.
‘Fancy some?’
‘Sure.’
‘Do you remember what Sharon said to Charlie?’ Tina asked. I shook my head. ‘She said he could have some more chocolate.’ Tina’s eyes were fixed on mine.
‘So?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘She was bribing him,’ Tina went on.
‘Bribing him?’ I was even more puzzled.
Tina sighed and rolled her eyes in despair. ‘Sharon gave Charlie chocolate and he gave her –’ She broke off.
‘Gave her what?’ I almost shouted, and then the penny dropped. ‘Tina, I am NOT giving you a kiss.’
‘But it’s Christmas.’
‘Christmas, not Kissmas,’ I pointed out.
‘No chocolate for you then,’ she answered huffily.
‘Fine. Eat it all yourself.’
‘I will. Look. Yum yum yum. Ooooh, it’s so lovely. Don’t you want some, Trevor?’
I gritted my teeth and shook my head.
‘Mmmmmmmm, it’s so smooth and melty and chocolatey and warm and all gooey. Are you sure you don’t want some? Yum yum yum.’
‘Ssshhh!’ I hissed. ‘Charlie is coming – look!’ It was the first time ever that I was actually pleased to see Charlie Smugg. He’d just saved me from a fate worse than death!
We hastily ducked back down behind the boxes and I clamped a hand round Streaker’s muzzle. As I squeezed her mouth shut a half-chewed dog biscuit came shooting out, whizzed across the driveway and pinged against a garage door on the far side. Fortunately Charlie didn’t notice. Streaker looked a bit miffed but at least she didn’t struggle.
Charlie stepped up to number seven lock-up. He looked all around and then produced a small bunch of keys. Tina lifted her camera.
‘Is the flash off?’ I whispered. She nodded and took two or three pictures as Charlie undid the padlock and rolled up the door. I waited for the pups to come bouncing out, but it seemed Charlie had kept them tethered inside. They could move around but they couldn’t run free.
‘We’ll have to wait until he’s got them right out of the garage,’ I murmured.
There was a deep rumbling noise, getting nearer. An old battered car with half its exhaust missing swung on to the driveway between the garages. It stopped near Charlie and an unpleasant-looking man got out. He had a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He was overweight and his belly hung so far over his belt it looked in danger of falling right off and plopping on to the floor.
‘He looks as if he’s swallowed a giant Christmas pudding,’ Tina whispered into my ear. I nodded and watched as Pudding Man hitched up his jeans for the umpteenth time.
‘Charlie?’ he growled.
‘Yeah. The pups are in here. All in good nick, see?’ Charlie picked up one of the pups to show the man but it nipped his hand so he hastily put it back down.
The big man laughed. ‘You’ve obviously got a knack with animals.’
Charlie scowled and said the pups weren’t used to being handled. ‘Do you want them or not?’ he asked.
‘Sure. They’ll be great presents for my triplets – one each.’ Pudding Man pulled a wad of notes from his back pocket and counted out some money. He handed it over to Charlie, who stood there grinning at it while Tina quietly took another snap.
‘Put ’em in the back of the car,’ said the man.
Charlie began to undo the puppies’ leads, ready for transfer. I grabbed Tina’s arm.
‘We’ve got to do something. We have to stop this happening right now before those puppies get taken away and we lose them again.’
>
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know!’
My brain had gone into meltdown. I couldn’t think. I was frozen to the spot and the puppies were being taken away right under my nose. But while Tina and I just sat there, desperately wondering what to do, Streaker had come up with a plan of her own and I think it was called: ATTACK! ATTACK!
Charlie emerged from the garage with the three puppies struggling in his arms. It was more than Streaker could bear. She leaped out from behind the crates, legs in a whirling blur. She rocketed straight at him, trailing a long, unearthly howl behind as she whizzed through the air.
‘Whoooooooooooooooooooo!!!’
Streaker hit Charlie hard and square and he doubled over, spilling the pups on to the ground. Tina and I dashed out and scooped them into our arms.
‘You get back here!’ yelled Charlie. ‘Stop, thief!’
‘Run for it!’ yelled Tina.
‘Oi!’ bellowed Pudding Man. ‘Them’s my dogs! Come back! I’ve paid for them!’
The pair of them came racing after us and it was obvious who could run faster. For a start we were laden down with three puppies who seemed to think it was all great fun. One of mine was trying to lick my face while I ran. The other was attempting to make death-defying leaps without a parachute from my arms. Tina’s pup appeared to be burrowing down inside her coat. All I could see was a short tail sticking out of the top by her neck, wagging furiously.
Charlie and Pudding Man were catching up rapidly. That was when Streaker came racing to the rescue. She hurtled after the two thieves, nipping at their ankles, bouncing, leaping, darting between their legs and generally getting in their way.
First of all Charlie went crashing to the ground as he tripped right over her and then Streaker pulled off her most spectacular trick of all. Flying along beside Pudding Man, she leaped up at his legs. Her teeth closed on the man’s jeans and the next moment they were down round his ankles and he fell, flat on his face! Bang!
Tina and I yelled with delight and turned towards the town. Streaker soon caught us up and danced along beside us, her ears flapping like happy flags as she barked with delight – it almost sounded like laughter. She was so pleased to have her pups back.
However, we still had a long way to go before we reached home. We went as fast as we could, but we hadn’t even reached the centre of town when we heard the angry roar of a speeding car with a missing exhaust. They were coming after us IN THE CAR! There was no way Streaker could trip that up!
10. The Great Switch-On
‘I’m getting a stitch,’ Tina cried.
‘Shouldn’t have eaten that chocolate,’ I shouted back. ‘Come on! If we can get to the centre there’ll be too many people around for Charlie to get at us.’
We heard the car spit gravel as it zoomed away from the lock-ups and came tearing down the road.
‘Come on!’ I yelled, but Tina was bent double, eyes screwed up in pain.
‘You go, take this one,’ she panted, handing over the last puppy. I glanced up the road at the monster roaring towards us. We were so near to making it to safety and yet so far. If only we could reach the next corner the market square would be in sight, full of people waiting to see the Christmas lights switched on. I pulled at Tina’s arm.
‘Tina, you can do it. Keep walking.’
Tina straightened up, still clutching her side. I practically pulled her along the road but I knew we weren’t going to make it. We still had a hundred metres or so to the corner when the car thundered up alongside us and screeched to a halt. The driver’s door flew open and Pudding Man lifted himself out, his face a red, raging beetroot.
‘You’ve got my dogs!’ he spat.
‘They’re my dogs!’ I yelled back.
‘You’d better hand them over before I turn you to paste!’ the man growled. The passenger door opened and Charlie started to get out.
In the distance a siren started up. Pudding Man pricked up his ears. He hesitated and stared up the road. A flashing blue light squealed round the corner and raced towards us. Charlie yelled across in a panic.
‘Get back in! Go! Go!’
Pudding Man dived back into the car, gunned the engine and skidded away, the car snaking down to the corner and lurching round. The police car went zooming past, lights flashing, siren blaring and – oh boy! Sergeant Smugg was at the wheel! Sergeant Smugg was chasing his own son!
Tina and I looked at each other and then ran as fast as we could to the corner. We wanted to see what was happening. We got there just in time to see the mayor standing on a platform beside the big Christmas tree, ready to start the countdown, while Charlie’s car tried to push its way through the heaving crowd.
‘And now it’s the big switch-on,’ cried the mayor. ‘We’ll count down from five and here we go: FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE – ta da!’ The lights flickered on. Everywhere coloured lights began twinkling. Lovely!
PAH! PAH! hooted Charlie’s car as it forced its way through. Pudding Man was hanging out of the window, trying to push people out of the way with one hand and steer with the other.
‘Get out the way!’ he yelled. ‘Move, you idiots! I’m in a hurry! I’ve got a pregnant woman on board about to have a baby – get out the way! What are you – cows? Sheep? Baaa baaa mooo – go on, move it!’
PAH! PAH!
And right behind came Sergeant Smugg, making even more noise.
DEE DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO!
It was complete chaos. Deeper and deeper into the crowd went the fleeing car until, with one final surge, it plunged straight into the base of the giant Christmas tree and could go no further.
The tree wobbled. It wibbled. It probably even wubbled. And then it slowly started to topple. Slowly, slowly, then faster and faster until it came crashing down. And as it fell it sliced through one of the main strings of bulbs stretched between the lamp posts. Sparks flew in every direction, bulbs smashed and suddenly ALL the Christmas lights went out.
Finally the tree hit the ground, bringing down the lights with it and bending several lamp posts into strange angles at the same time.
The doors of Charlie’s car opened and out they climbed. Charlie was shouting angrily at Pudding Man saying that no way was he a pregnant woman. Pudding Man yelled back that everything was Charlie’s fault. They tried desperately to escape but the angry crowd seized them and held them tight. Sergeant Smugg stopped his car and strode across.
‘I arrest the pair of you!’ he declared proudly, as if he’d done all the catching by himself. He laid a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and swung him round so that they were face to face. I don’t know who was more shocked.
‘Charlie?!’
‘Dad?’
Several people in the crowd began to laugh. They obviously knew Charlie only too well, not to mention his father. This was justice at last. Charlie and Pudding Man were put in the back of the patrol car and a red-faced Sergeant Smugg drove them away to the police station.
Tina and I were over the moon – and so was Streaker. Just for once she hadn’t caused all the mayhem in the town centre. Not only that, she had her beloved puppies back and did she make a fuss of them? She certainly did!
We took them all back home. Mum and Dad were HUGELY surprised and, I’m pleased to say, they were pretty happy too. This was going to be the best Christmas ever. We would all be together after all – me, Mum, Dad, Streaker AND the puppies. I knew that the puppies would soon go to new homes in January, but at least I had them for Christmas.
Later that evening Tina and I went over the whole business.
‘It’s been brilliant,’ I said.
‘I know. And you were amazing. You could have left me behind, but you didn’t.’
I shrugged and Tina fished around in one of her pockets. ‘What are you after now?’ I asked.
‘I’m just looking for something. I got you a little present to say thank you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, I found it when
everything fell over in the market this afternoon. Ah, here it is.’
Tina proudly produced her present and held it up high. I gulped. Mistletoe. Was there no escape?
10½. The Very Last Bit
We discovered a few days after Christmas that Charlie just about got away with it. He’d told his dad that he’d ‘found’ the puppies, so how was he to know who they belonged to?
What’s more, Charlie was still threatening to take money off Tina and me. Fortunately we had already come up with a plan for this, just in case. Tina handed Charlie an envelope.
‘What is it?’ he asked suspiciously, as well he might.
Tina shrugged. ‘Take a look.’
Charlie stuck a grubby thumb into one corner of the envelope and ripped it open. He pulled out a single sheet of paper. He looked at the photo and gasped. The blood drained from his face.
Tina and I grinned. ‘If you make any more trouble for us,’ I said, ‘you will find a copy of that photo taped to every lamp post in this town.’
We left Charlie standing there, stunned and shaken. We’d only gone a few paces when Tina turned back.
‘Happy Christmas, Charlie!’ she chuckled. ‘And to Sharon Blenkinsop too!’
And I thought, yeah, too right. Happy Christmas, Charlie!
Christmas Chaos for the Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog Page 5
