Mum nodded. ‘There’s the supermarket in the village and the café at the back, but it’s not really very nice.’
‘If we could make it really fun and pretty, people would come here instead,’ I said.
‘You’re right, farm shops are all the rage these days,’ said Mum. ‘People want to know where their food is grown, where it comes from, what it’s been sprayed with.’
‘Though it hurts me to say this about my sister,’ said Josh. ‘I think you might be on to something, Amy. What do you think, Dad?’
I felt a rush of excitement. ‘But that’s not all,’ I said. ‘The shop and the café could make money. The money could pay for an animal rescue centre.’
‘Running a café and shop would see us through times when the clinic is quiet,’ said Mum. ‘I’m not sure about a rescue centre though, Amy.’
Dad still hadn’t said much but I knew it was a good idea. I wasn’t going to give up. ‘People are getting fed up with big supermarkets, and smaller places selling organic produce are becoming really popular. We did a lesson about it at school. And . . . and . . . Natalia’s going to send me some fundraising ideas. And I bet Caitlin would have some good ones, too. We wouldn’t have to rely totally on the shop. We could run events, special sales – I don’t know, we’ll think of something. I’m sure people will want to help. What do you say, Dad?’
‘It’s definitely worth considering,’ he said, ‘but it would be costly. I just can’t imagine how we’d make it work. But let’s try putting together a business plan.’
‘Natalia could help with the plan,’ I said. ‘She’s a whiz at things like that.’
‘How old are you again?’ asked Dad.
‘Eleven going on forty,’ said Mum. ‘Richie, I have a good feeling about this. I can see it. “Silverbrook Farm Produce”. We need to do some market research and see what the competition is round here. There’s bound to be some but, Amy, you’re right. I haven’t seen anything like it in the local area. Josh, maybe you could design us a logo for the labels and advertising. Something showing the farmhouse, maybe in summer, with roses growing up the arch above the front door so it looks countrified.’
Josh got up. ‘I’m on it,’ he said. He was brilliant at art and was always designing things on his computer.
Mum got up to get some paper and soon she and Dad were bent over a notepad making lists.
It was a good job they were preoccupied because it was then that I saw that, while everyone had been busy looking at my laptop, Shimmer had helped herself to the sausages that had been left on the side counter. A last gulp, they were gone and Shimmer began to hiccup again.
‘Er . . . while you’re doing that, I’ll take Shimmer out,’ I said and made a quick exit before anyone noticed that their breakfast had disappeared.
Chapter Eight
To the Rescue
March
Dear Diary,
It’s been a while since I wrote in here because so much has been going on. Now it’s spring and the flowers are poking their heads out of the ground. Project Silverbrook is going ahead. Yay. Everyone’s been doing their research, making plans. Mucho excitement in the Westall family.
Silverbrook animals: Ginger has become Hunter Warrior Cat. He’s allowed out now and is very happy in his new territory. The downside is he keeps bringing us small furry presents from the fields – mice and small birds. He’s not a killer like some cats, but does like to hunt. Dad says he brings his catches in to show he can contribute to the grocery shopping. I’ve tried telling him we really don’t want mouse on toast thank you very much, but he hasn’t got the message. We keep a fishing net by the back door and Dad does his best to catch whatever’s been brought in, take it back out and set it free.
Shimmer is a joy and my new best friend. She follows me everywhere. When I go to school, she howls like a baby and looks at me with big sad eyes, but then is sitting in the window looking out and waiting for me when I get back and gives me the best, lickiest welcome home ever. Have been on my best behaviour round the house, offered to do washing up, help out where I can, in the hope that Mum and Dad will let me keep Shimmer. I couldn’t bear to see her go somewhere else because I have completely fallen in love with her.
We did a class on reincarnation in school last week. Interesting theory that we may have lived before in different bodies. I think Dad was probably St Francis of Assisi, the saint who was kind to animals. I reckon Mum was Attila the Hun. She still has days when she seems in a rage about something or other, but has been a lot better since she’s had the Silverbrook Farm project to work on. They’ve been working on the business plan and we have a road trip planned for the Easter holidays to go and talk to someone in a rescue centre about an hour away from here. I’m not sure what Josh was in a past life. Probably a frog. Haha.
Mum has great ideas for the tea shop and has been in there with an architect drawing up plans. Mrs Watson wasn’t too happy about it but Mum assured her she’d always have a job, though that didn’t seem to appease her much. We’ve started opening the tea shop at weekends to try and make some money before it gets converted, but not many people come. Natalia sent us a DVD called Field of Dreams to watch. It’s about a man who builds a baseball pitch after hearing voices, then a bunch of ghosts turn up and play baseball on the pitch. Not sure what that had to do with us starting our venture but it was inspiring in an odd kind of way. We all go round quoting a line from the film: ‘Build it and they will come.’ Apart from Mum, that is. Her favourite line is ‘Shut up or I will throttle you’.
Word did get round the village that we had started an animal rescue centre and people began bringing up animals, but Dad has been v. firm and said not yet, we’re not ready. He has been drinking Mum’s sensible juice, and I guess he’s right, though we couldn’t resist keeping some of them – like the Jack Russell called Rupert. His owner died and he was found all on his own in a house, and was scared, starving and not well at all. He’s a sweet-looking little dog, with a white coat with brown patches all over it. He was a bit quiet when we first brought him home but when he’d been fed and realised he was safe, his real nature came out and he was soon running about happily wagging his tail. Luckily Mrs Watson said she’d foster him until we’re up and running. She’s a funny old bat but obviously has a kind heart.
On the first Saturday in the Easter holidays, we set off on our road trip. Destination: the rescue home for dogs and cats. Mum looked very smart in a navy trouser suit and her hair tied back, and I could see that Dad had made an effort too because, for once, he wasn’t wearing odd socks, and Shimmer was wearing a new red collar specially purchased for the trip. And Mum and Dad said Caitlin could come too, which would make it double fun.
On the journey, we made up a list of questions to ask when we got to the centre.
‘Ask how much it costs them a year to run the place,’ said Mum.
‘Megabucks, I bet,’ said Caitlin.
‘Where would you find that?’ Josh asked.
‘Exactly,’ said Dad. ‘Put that as question number one. How do you find the money to run a rescue centre?’
‘It says on their website that people are asked to make a donation when they adopt an animal,’ I said. ‘That gives some money. We’d have to have a similar site so people can read about the animals, how much it would cost, how to donate. You should take a look, Josh.’
‘Already have, dingbat. I could do one for us, easy peasy. We could also use all the social media like Twitter and Facebook. I could update a Facebook page with photos and stories about the centre and animals.’
‘Whoa. Slow down, J-boy. First we have to get the funding,’ said Dad.
When did he turn into Mr Grumpbucket?
We turned down a narrow lane lined with trees, right into a car park and there it was – a glass-fronted chalet-style building with a patio in front of it. ‘Coooool,’ said Josh.
‘Yeah,’ said Caitlin, but she was looking at Josh not the building. As always, he was oblivious
to her crush on him. As soon as we got out of the car, we could hear dogs barking in the background.
‘You stay here,’ I said to Shimmer, who thought she was getting out with the rest of us. She looked most put out when I closed the door on her, but we wouldn’t be leaving her for long, and it wasn’t a hot day. I looked around at fields surrounding the centre. Nice location, I thought as we made our way to the front and into the airy reception area. It had a counter on the right for people to check in, a pet shop to the left and at the back was a closed glass door that led to the kennels. A friendly-looking man came out and introduced himself as Mazhar.
‘Thanks so much for agreeing to meet with us,’ said Dad.
‘You’re welcome,’ Mazhar said and indicated that we should sit down at a round table to the front of the reception. Josh, Caitlin and I were dying to get through the doors and see the animals, but we stayed and listened as Mum and Dad began their questions.
I was so busy dreaming of all the animals we’d soon be looking after as hundreds of people came from all over the country to visit our famous tea shop, that I zoned out when Mazhar told Mum and Dad how much the centre cost to run – though I think I heard the word ‘millions’. An odd strangled sound came from Dad’s side of the table.
‘And how do you find that money?’ asked Mum.
‘Mainly through fundraising,’ replied Mazhar. ‘We have a whole team of people working on it. We also rely on donations from the public. We’re a registered charity so sometimes we’re gifted amounts in people’s wills and other times a wealthy individual makes a large donation. We are a nation of animal lovers and people do leave their money – especially those who’ve been and seen the place, but we have to work hard to raise money for times when there aren’t donations.’
That’s it, I thought. It’s never going to happen. I expected Mum to get up and tell Dad that we were wasting our time, but she didn’t. She was listening.
‘We do cover a very wide area,’ said Mazhar, ‘six hundred and fifty square miles throughout Somerset and Wiltshire.’
Josh let out a whistle. ‘How many animals do you have?’ he asked.
‘We can house over one hundred and twenty dogs, one hundred and twenty cats, one hundred chickens and fifty or so small animals.’
‘That’s a lot of space you need,’ said Caitlin. I knew she was thinking the same as I was – that there was no way could we get that many into our land and stables.
‘We rehome about two thousand animals a year.’
‘What?’ I cried again. It was getting worse by the minute. That was impossible. I felt my heart sink.
‘Amy, be quiet,’ said Dad. ‘Let’s hear what Mazhar has to say before we panic.’
Mazhar smiled. ‘A lot of people are surprised when they hear the figures. Money is also raised by businesses, schools, cake sales, local events, marathons– our pet shop makes us some money too.’
I’d taken note of the shop earlier. We hadn’t thought about selling pet products and I thought it would be a good addition to the farm shop.
‘What happens if you’re full?’ asked Mum.
‘We have a waiting list. It’s one in, one out. We have a list of people who are willing to foster animals until we have a place for them and can find them a more permanent home,’ he smiled. ‘It’s really what all of them want, a home and to be loved.’ I thought of Shimmer and how happy she was to be part of our family and have somewhere she belonged. I prayed for the hundred millionth time that it would be permanent.
‘And how many vets do you have on site?’ asked Dad.
‘We have one vet and one nurse. All the animals get a health check when they come in – checked for fleas, worms, skin disease as well as getting their vaccinations.’
‘What about other staff?’ asked Mum.
‘We have about forty, some working full-time, some part and we have about three hundred people working here as volunteers – all the dog walkers and cat cuddlers.’
‘Cat cuddlers?’ said Caitlin, looking excited. Cat cuddling was her favourite pastime.
Mazhar nodded. ‘They come in just to do that – and they cuddle the small animals too to let them know that they’re safe and not alone, but also to socialise them so when we do find them a home, they’re used to people.’
‘What happens when they first come in?’ asked Josh.
‘They’re put in an assessment block for seven days while we do what we can to try and find their owner, but of course that’s not always possible.’
‘Why do animals end up in here?’ I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Whatever the answer was, it was probably sad.
‘Oh, all sorts of reasons. Sometimes their owner dies, or is elderly and has to go into a home or hospital. Sometimes it’s a couple splitting up, sometimes an accident, or they’ve been neglected; other times, changes in the household like a new baby or a new job that means an owner can’t care for their pet, or lack of funds and people can’t afford to keep their animals. We see all sorts of cases, sometimes people just can’t cope with the responsibility.’ He looked over at the reception area. ‘This job can be a bit of a rollercoaster. One moment, it’s happy – rehoming an animal and knowing it’s gone somewhere safe – and the next having to tend to some poor creature that’s been abandoned. A cat was brought in this morning who had been left under a bush by the motorway. Poor thing was traumatised.’
I sat and listened as Mum and Dad continued with their questions, but the more Mazhar told us, the more dejected I felt. The centre was totally amazing, but there was no way our family could pull off something similar unless Dad turned into Harry Potter.
After half an hour, Mazhar offered to show us around and led us into the kennel area. As soon as we got in there, all kinds of dogs appeared at the front of their cages to greet us, some pawing at the mesh, some barking to say hello. A beautiful Irish terrier called Seamus did an amazing jump when he saw us as if to say, ‘Wahey, look what I can do!’ Some didn’t stir and just looked at us wearily. On each kennel, there was a notice saying the dog’s name and a little about their history. As we walked up and down the aisles and looked in, we saw all types and ages of dogs: a spotty Dalmatian, a fluffy collie, yappy little bull terriers, an excitable cocker spaniel, Millie the Shih Tzu (so cute, she was only eight months old), a gorgeous white Husky, a long-legged lurcher, some types I didn’t know and one quiet German Shepherd called Bailey who looked up at us with the saddest eyes. I wanted to take all of them home and give them a big hug. Caitlin linked arms with me as we walked around. I knew she found it as hard looking at all the homeless animals as I did.
‘I wish we could get a coach and come here and take them all home,’ she whispered.
‘Me too,’ I whispered back, ‘but I’m having a hard enough time trying to get Mum and Dad to agree to keep Shimmer.’
‘Are there ever animals who don’t find a home?’ Josh asked.
Mazhar nodded. ‘There are a few who have been here over a year, but we do our best to keep them comfortable. We have a no-destruct policy – that means we don’t put any animals to sleep unless they’re poorly – and as well as the dog walkers who take them out daily, we have an agility area where they can exercise and a place where they can dig too. Dogs do love to dig.’
I noticed that there were hip-height fences wherever we went. ‘Why the fences? Is that to stop them getting out?’
Mazhar shook his head. ‘No. That’s to obscure their view of other dogs. It can be overwhelming for them to see so many other dogs, so the fences give them a little privacy and it stops them getting stressed. Although we do our best, no animal wants to be here in kennels with strange people and strange dogs. Like us, they like the familiar. They just want to belong to someone.’
‘I know,’ I said and looked at Mum in the hope that she got the message that I was thinking about Shimmer.
‘We also have what we call stooge dogs,’ Mazhar continued. ‘They’re like nannies and if a dog is too hyper, we p
ut it in with an older stooge dog who can teach it better behaviour and calm it down. If we have a dog that is shy and scared, we put it in with a stooge dog who can make it feel safe and bring it out of itself a bit.’
‘Wow, you’ve thought of everything!’ said Josh.
‘Can anyone come and get a dog?’ asked Caitlin.
Mazhar shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. We screen people carefully. We always do a home visit to ensure that it’s a good environment that they’re going to, as well as a good match with a new owner. The last thing we want is for a dog to go to a home then get brought back because someone didn’t really understand the commitment. It would be too distressing for them.’ I gave Mum another look when Mazhar said this. He was making a very good case for us to keep Shimmer. I remembered how upset Shimmer was when she first arrived at Silverbrook Farm. I looked at Caitlin. She put her hand on her heart to show me that she knew what I was thinking.
After the dog kennels, Mazhar took us into the cat area and, once again, there was cage after cage. The cats didn’t get up to say hello, they just regarded us through lazy eyes. Max, Charlie, Bindy, Daphne, Mozza, Parker, Graham, Stan – furry face after furry face; black, tabby, white, ginger . . . a total sweetheart tabby with only one eye, called Snowdrop. I’d like to have taken them all home, along with the dogs.
This time, I had to link arms with Caitlin. I knew how much she adored cats and her eyes had filled with tears. ‘I can’t bear it,’ she said. ‘I really really hope Silverbrook animal rescue happens because we have to do what we can to help!’
She let go of my arm and lingered behind as Mazhar led our group on. When I turned round, I could see she was talking to the cat with one eye. ‘Don’t you worry, baby, someone will come and take you home soon,’ she said.
‘Cats really don’t like being in the cattery pens – they like to run around,’ said Mazhar, ‘so we work hard to home them as soon as we can – and we do have quite a quick turnaround on finding them places, faster than the dogs.’
A Home for Shimmer Page 6
