Princess Phoebe

by Scilla James

  ‘I was going for a job,’ says Dad, ‘it just happened that the interview was on the same day as the court case.’

  ‘And what happened about that?’ I hear Nick ask.

  I can’t hear properly what Dad says but it sounds like, ‘Nothing, same as usual.’

  I get up and quietly open my bedroom door. Nick must have forgotten I’m upstairs. It’s not often he gets angry and it worries me that he’s shouting like that at Dad. What are they on about? I wonder. With the door open a crack I can hear better.

  Dad says, ‘I just need to borrow a couple of thousand. I wondered if Frank might help.’

  Nick shouts really loudly then, and I close the door as quickly as I opened it. He sounds absolutely crazy and I’m scared.

  ‘No! It’s borrowing that’s caused the trouble. Can’t you see? And as for Frank! You’d have to be completely insane to have anything more to do with him.’

  Nick slams out of the back door and a minute later his van engine starts up. There’s a loud skid from his tyres as he sets off up the road.

  It’s money again for sure, because it always is. This time it sounds worse than usual though, and normally it’s just Mum and Dad going on about it, not Nick as well. Poor Dad. Everyone seems to have a go at him. I want to run downstairs and sit on his knee and tell him not to worry but I know he’ll be cross that I’ve heard the argument. So I stay where I am, lying on my bed in a miserable heap, wishing things weren’t so complicated. I hear him boiling the kettle, then the sound of his chair creaking as he slumps down in to it, and then silence.

  My thoughts turn to Princess. How to get her back? I imagine her in Mrs Henderson’s kitchen, lying in the sun as she had that morning, and maybe with one ear stuck up, listening for me coming for her. And I wouldn’t come. But what can I do? It is clear from the row between Dad and Nick that, as usual, everyone else’s troubles in this family are getting more attention than mine. It’s days since anyone other than Nick has even mentioned Princess’s name. Why do they all care so much about money and boring things like rent, when there are so many more important things in life, like my greyhound?

  I lie there making a list of my problems, until I drift off for a while. The next thing I hear is Jack and Patrick both crying at once downstairs and Mum banging plates and saucepans around the place.

  I go down, remembering what’s been said between Dad and Nick and wondering what it is that Dad has to tell Mum before Nick does.

  ‘Ah, Ellie, there you are,’ says Mum, ‘just hold the baby will you, while I get his bottle and make Patrick’s toast?’ She looks her usual freaked-out self. She doesn’t ask how I got on at Jan’s so I suppose she’s forgotten.

  ‘Where are David and Sam?’ I ask.

  ‘They’ve gone to get chips for lunch,’ says Mum.

  ‘Cool,’ I say. I’m starving. It’s hours since Mrs Henderson’s toast. I pick up Jack and jiggle him around till he stops crying and gives me one of his toothless grins.

  ‘I’ll want you to help me next week Ellie,’ Mum says, as she hands me the salt and vinegar to put on the table. ‘I’m going down to the council to tell them they’ve got to find us a bigger place. I’m going crazy here with all of us and no space. I’ll want you to look after Jack and Patrick while I’m talking to the Man.’

  Oh great, I think. Hours of pushing the pram up and down a smelly council office and trying to stop Patrick running off, while Mum queues up to speak to a man who’ll put her in an even worse mood than usual. But before I can say anything, Dad interrupts. He’s been so quiet in his chair I’d forgotten he was there.

  ‘I’ll go Pearl,’ he says.

  ‘You?’ says Mum. ‘You don’t usually go down there. Are you sure? D’you promise?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Dad. He seems about to go on and say something else when there’s a loud banging on the door.

  ‘Frank,’ says Dad.

  I try my best to sink through the floor, but in reality I can only sit in the corner of one of the chairs and concentrate on feeding Jack. I try to breathe normally in case Frank can hear my heart hammering. He comes lumbering in and without saying hello, he lowers himself down into his usual place on the sofa. I can feel him looking at me, hard.

  ‘I’m missing a dog Charlie,’ he says. ‘I had her last night in my van, and when I got to my brother Alex’s place she’d turned into thin air.’

  ‘I heard you had a spot of bother last night,’ says Dad.

  ‘You could say that,’ says Frank. ‘But it’s this dog I’m thinking of. I just want to know if your Nick, or even your little girl here,’ and he looks at me again, ‘might have some information for me. The dog I lost looked a lot like the one she had for a while.’

  ‘How could Ellie have anything for you,’ says Dad, ‘she’s eleven!’

  ‘Eleven she might be,’ says Frank, ‘but that doesn’t stop her being a thief.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ says Dad, but then Mum comes round to the sofa and stands in front of Frank. She raises her voice.

  ‘Don’t you go calling my girl a thief,’ she says, ‘it’s bad enough that you took Ellie’s dog from her, but to come here accusing her of stealing it back is going too far! Does she look like she’s got a dog?’

  Frank seems surprised. It must be a shock, Mum standing up to him.

  ‘Where’s your Nick?’ he asks instead.

  ‘At work,’ says Mum, ‘and he hasn’t got any dogs either!’

  ‘All right, all right,’ says Frank. ‘Calm down Pearl. Don’t get in a sweat.’ Frank’s voice goes quiet and he stares straight at Mum. ‘The dog disappeared somewhere between Lennie putting her in my van, and me looking to get her out again when we reached my brother’s place. Lennie swears he shut the door when he got out to be sick, and I know I only threw one dog out in the woods when we stopped the second time. So how d’you explain that Pearl? That’s my question.’

  ‘How would I know? And what were you throwing a dog out into the woods for?’ asks Mum, her voice still indignant.

  ‘Past its best,’ says Frank leaning back on the sofa, as if that explained everything. ‘There’s a rescue just down the road from there and they usually pick them up.’

  ‘If they don’t get run over first,’ Mum says.

  ‘That too, Pearl. It’s a tough life,’ he says, as he gets to his feet again and looks in my direction. ‘Only I can’t just leave it, that’s the problem. No one gets one over on Frank Skally and I think that might be what’s happening here. So I’ll be making further enquiries.’

  Then as he goes to leave he turns to Dad and says, ‘By the way Charlie, I drove past your dad’s place on the way to my brother’s last night. We took a bit of a trip to get out of the way of the cops. I saw a ‘Sold’ sign on the big house. Does your dad still work on the farm?’

  ‘He’s retired,’ replies Dad.

  I can tell Dad doesn’t like speaking to Frank, especially after Mum’s had a go, but perhaps he wants to keep in with him in case he needs to borrow money. It’s always like this. Nick’s told me that people who hate Frank still speak to him, in case they get on the wrong side of him. But I long for Dad to tell Frank to get lost, and I’d like it if he smacked him one too. Yet the two of them carry on talking as if they’re friends.

  ‘I heard the farmer’s selling up to come over this way and start a shooting business. Did you hear that?’ Frank asks.

  ‘No,’ says Dad. But I know he has because I remember him telling Mum about it. He’d been hoping to get a job with the farmer, Granddad’s old boss, but nothing had come of it.

  ‘Just thought I’d mention it,’ says Frank. . ‘Well, tell your Nick I’ll be seeing him.’ And with a final stare at me, he leaves.

  Mum and Dad both turn in my direction. I shrug and mutter something about the twins possibly wanting bread and butter with their chips.

  ‘Since when have you buttered bread for your brothers, Ellie, without being asked?’ Mum points out. ‘I hope I was right tel
ling Frank you know nothing about Princess. Tell me you haven’t gone and done anything stupid? I could really do without that.’

  I’m grateful to her for sticking up for me against Frank, so I have to give some sort of an answer: ‘Frank’s horrible, Mum. I’m glad if Princess has got away.’

  Maybe it’s because Mum doesn’t want to know but, for whatever reason, she drops the subject. I can tell she has other things on her mind, and soon after Frank’s gone I see Dad signal to her and they go out into the yard. On her way out Mum calls to me to finish laying the table and to make sure Patrick eats his toast. I can see them talking together over by the shed and then Mum starts to cry. This is seriously unusual. I guess Dad must have told her whatever it is that he and Nick were shouting about. It’s something to do with money and rent and that kind of stuff, but exactly what, I don’t know. I wish David and Sam would get home soon, chips or not.

  I see Dad pat Mum’s shoulder and then they talk some more. After a while, they come back inside. I hang around trying to pick up some clues, but they don’t say anything else.

  9

  Money Troubles

  ‘Ellie,’ says Dad, ‘can I borrow your mobile?’

  Things are getting worse by the minute. ‘Where’s yours?’ I ask.

  ‘I took it to be mended.’

  I don’t believe him. Are we so poor now that Dad hasn’t even got a phone? But I hand mine over anyway and he goes out. He’s gone ages, and meanwhile Mum changes Jack’s nappy and takes him up to his cot.

  When the chips finally arrive there’s just me and the twins eating, and afterwards I play hide and seek with Patrick under the ironing board, but none of it feels right. I’m not sure if it’s me being tired after the night before, or if things really are so bad. After what must be twenty minutes, Dad comes back in and hands me my phone. The battery’s nearly all gone, but he cuts short my complaint.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ he asks.

  I point upstairs.

  ‘When does school start back, Ellie?’

  ‘Tuesday next week,’ I say.

  There’s something about the evening that never comes right. I know Mum and Dad are worried, but that usually means an argument, and this time there isn’t one. Mum has a kind of closed down look that I’m not used to. She doesn’t even smoke much, but sits staring at the telly without watching it. Dad looks through piles of papers, but apart from the occasional swearword he says nothing. I know better than to ask questions; Mum will only say she can do without me going on. So when the twins go off upstairs I say I’m going to bed too.

  I wake up next morning with a great big headache, cold and sore throat. The ditch, I suppose. Jan comes round to see me and brings Jade, which is good, but my legs ache and I’m too wonky to want to do anything. She sits on the end of my bed and tries to perk me up. We send Mrs Henderson a text from Jan’s phone but I guess Mrs Henderson’s useless at texting because she never replies. We don’t dare ring her in case we’re overheard or she rings back when Jan’s with her dad or something. In the end, I fall sleep and when I wake again Jan has gone. To me it feels like the whole house is waiting for something, it’s so quiet. Kind of tense, but with nobody fighting.

  It’s Sunday morning before I feel even half all right. We’ve only got two days of holiday left, so I go early to call for Jan. She gets some drinks and crisps and we set off to see Margaret at the allotment.

  ‘I’ve been trying to phone Mrs Henderson since I left the house,’ I tell Jan, ‘but she keeps on being engaged. Something’s the matter, I can feel it.’

  I try a few more times. We sit down on a low wall outside the little row of shops we have to go past on the way, but I keep expecting Frank to appear among the old men coughing along to the newsagents for ciggies and Sunday papers. It would just be my luck. So I get up again almost at once and say, ‘Let’s go.’

  We kick our way through last night’s empty chip wrappers and bottles while I keep pressing re-dial.

  ‘I don’t see why you’re worrying,’ says Jan, ‘she’s probably on the phone to someone else. Her family or something.’

  I hadn’t thought of Mrs Henderson having a family, but while I’m trying to imagine what they’d be like if she had, her phone finally rings through and she answers.

  Though all she says is that she’ll phone me back, she sounds funny.

  ‘Now I know something’s wrong,’ I tell Jan. ‘It’ll be Princess. I bet she’s run off to look for me, and Mrs Henderson doesn’t know how to tell me.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ says Jan. ‘It’s not all about you, you know. Maybe one of her family’s broken their leg.’

  ‘Oh I hope so,’ I say, ‘if it means that Princess is all right.’

  I catch Jan’s look as my phone rings.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Henderson says on the other end, ‘I’ve just had a bit of a fright.’

  ‘Is Princess OK?’ I ask. That’s all I can think about.

  ‘Yes, Ellie, she’s fine, but I’m not sure she’s going to be safe here for much longer. Yesterday afternoon I was out in the garden with her when I noticed a white van going past, quite slowly. There was a big man driving, and I’m afraid he looked awfully like your description of Frank. He didn’t stop, and I didn’t think he’d seen Princess. I went to the gate to look when he’d gone past, but he was already out of sight round the corner.’

  ‘It must have been him,’ I say. I can feel my heart going down into my trainers.

  Mrs Henderson goes on, ‘I tried to ring you but your phone was off.’

  ‘I’ve been a bit ill,’ I tell her, ‘and my dad left my battery flat.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Mrs Henderson says, ‘in case he came back and challenged me I put Phoebe’s collar on Princess and decided to insist that she was my dog however much she might resemble the one he’d lost.’

  ‘Has he been back?’

  ‘Yes, Ellie. His van pulled up just as you rang me this morning. He was quite polite. Asked me how long I’d had my dog and said he’d lost one practically identical. I said her name was Phoebe and that I’d had her a long time. I’m not good at telling lies and he stared at me as if he knew that’s what I was doing. Luckily, my Phoebe was asleep in the kitchen as usual so he never caught sight of her. I told him I’d got to get on and called ‘Phoebe!’ to Princess to come indoors. She was hiding behind me – I’m sure she knew him – and I think she’d have come no matter what name I’d called. But I’m sure he’ll be back, Ellie, and I can’t keep the dogs in the whole time.’

  ‘Oh Mrs Henderson, you’ll have to keep her in,’ I say.

  ‘No dear,’ she says firmly. ‘I’ll do my best for a day or two but then you’ll have to tell your parents and come and get her. I’m frightened he might try and break into my house. I’m even wondering whether I should call the police now but you can’t really do that unless you can show there’s a threat. And, as I say, he was perfectly polite. But I have to be able to go out you know. Monday is Gardening Club and I wouldn’t want to miss that. But the question is, how did he know to look here?’

  ‘Because your house is near where he last saw her,’ I say, ‘and he knows that area because it’s not far from Granddad’s place and Frank came from the same village. His brother still lives near there. He must have been driving around looking when he saw her in your garden.’

  I can almost feel Mrs Henderson shudder.

  ‘Please keep her a bit longer,’ I beg, ‘I promise I’ll think of something.’ Though I can’t imagine how.

  I’m just about to ring off when Mrs Henderson goes on to say, ‘Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. They did find a greyhound in Batts Wood, a black one. He was wandering around in a terrible state, frightened and hungry, but he’s safe now and they’ll find him a new home as soon as they can. So that’s one bit of good news.’

  She rings off.

  It occurs to me that Princess might have been safer in the rescue centre too, but then I realise that Frank would have gone ther
e to claim her as his. Jan thinks the same when I tell her what Mrs Henderson said.

  We’ve reached the allotment by this time and Margaret tells us to sit down while she gives us a massive pile of old beans to shell, so she can plant them again or something. Queenie gives me a big lick and I stroke her ears. I feel guilty that by keeping Princess I seem to have caused such trouble.

  ‘Somehow I will make Princess safe,’ I tell Queenie, ‘and perhaps one day you’ll see your beautiful daughter again.’ I’m not sure that greyhounds understand words like ‘daughter’, but I reckon Queenie at least knows that I’m trying to tell her something important, and she gives me another lick.

  Then Jan says, ‘I think you should talk to Nick.’

  I suppose I’ve been thinking the same thing. I need my big brother and, of course, I need his van. If he could take me over to Mrs Henderson’s we could pick up Princess and maybe think of somewhere else to hide her.

  ‘OK,’ I agree with Jan, trying to sound braver than I feel.

  10

  Granddad

  ‘You could take Ellie,’ I hear Mum say as I come in to the house later. She’s talking to Nick.

  ‘Take Ellie where?’ I ask, while I look in the cupboard for a glass. I’m desperate for a drink of water but nothing’s clean and the sink’s piled up with dishes. I wash up a mug.

  ‘I’m going over to see Granddad,’ says Nick.

  ‘What?’ I ask. ‘Why? I thought we’d quarrelled.’

  ‘Well,’ says Nick, ‘Dad’s been talking to Granddad again lately, and things have been looking hopeful for an end to it all. Then last night it seemed as if they might start arguing again. Pearl’s suggesting I could go over and talk to the old man, since Dad won’t listen to either of us.’

  ‘Cool,’ I say, ‘but how come I’m allowed to go with you?’ I’m pleased to think they want me to go, but it sounds suspicious as well. Normally I’m left out of grown-up stuff.

  Mum takes a deep breath. ‘You were always Granddad’s favourite,’ she says, ‘and I reckon that if he sees you again and remembers how fond he was of you, he might be persuaded to relent a bit so far as your father’s concerned. Only we won’t tell Dad about the visit till afterwards, so keep quiet about it Ellie. It’s important that you don’t tell, or he’ll try and stop Nick going. He’s such a proud man and he doesn’t want his father to have to give him a dig-out. He’d rather see us all on the streets first.’