I shook my head. ‘No. We like him.’
Liam looked relieved and his face softened. ‘He’s a good kid. Loves animals. Mad about them. And . . . our dad . . .’ He didn’t finish the sentence.
‘What about your mum?’ I asked.
‘We don’t have a mum. She died just after Robbie was born.’
‘Oh I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know.’
His sullen mask was back in a flash. ‘We don’t need you to feel sorry for us. Just don’t tell Dad about Robbie taking your dog.’ He looked around. ‘Anyway, we’ll be here Saturday morning.’
‘OK, I’ll tell Mum,’ I said. ‘Would you . . .’ I was going to make an effort to be more friendly and offer him a glass of juice, but he’d already turned away and was trudging back down the lane. Whatever else was going on his life, he certainly had a soft spot for his younger brother.
Chapter Fourteen
Shimmer the Welly Wee-er
Dear Diary,
Shimmer’s training:
Day One: when we were out walking in the park down by the river, a lady stopped, put her handbag down and leaned over to say hello to Shimmer, who greeted her back by weeing on her wellies. So embarrassing. I knelt down, looked into Shimmer’s eyes and said, ‘No,’ very firmly. I hope she got the message. The lady gave me a stern lecture about how to control my dog. While I was listening to her, Shimmer went behind her and weed on her handbag. Oops. Luckily, the lady didn’t notice and hopefully, it dried out by the time she got home.
Day Two: Robbie came out for a walk with Shimmer and me. I explained the rules to him. We acted very pleased when Shimmer weed on a tree by making a big fuss of her, giving her a little dog treat and saying, ‘Yes, good girl.’ Also acted not pleased when she weed on a lamppost. I said, ‘No,’ in a firm voice. Shimmer just looked confused. How does one explain the difference between a tree and a lamppost to a dog? I asked Robbie. He didn’t have an answer, though he tried to explain whilst pointing at the tree and then the lamppost, but Shimmer just wagged her tail because she was getting more attention. Robbie couldn’t stop laughing and, in the end, Shimmer seemed to find it funny too and started running around chasing her tail to show she had other tricks she could do besides weeing.
Day Three: Ew. No one told me that dogs can poo for Britain, and Shimmer is a champion at it. As I was scooping up her latest into a poo bag whilst holding my nose, the snooty girls from my school, including Poppy Pengilly, went past and stared at me. ‘Dog poo,’ I called to them, by way of explanation. They looked at me as if I was mad – I think they thought I was calling them dog poo. As if. I only call Natalia names like that. Or Josh. One of them called back, ‘Dog poo yourself.’ I think they think I’m totally lame. I did wonder about getting Shimmer to wee on their shoes, but resisted despite the temptation. Revenge of the Weeing Dog. Yeah, watch out, girls of Compton Truit. I have a furry weapon and her name is Shimmer.
Day Four: Articles chewed: pair of slippers. Books. Kitchen table legs and chair legs. Shimmer also decided it would be fun to take a running jump on to the kitchen table, but was going too fast and the surface was slippery so she skidded all the way along it and almost fell off at the other end. Mum said, ‘No,’ to her in her very firm Mum-voice and Shimmer didn’t do it again. Much as I try, I think Mum is the ultimate pack leader.
Day Five: Back to the park, this time with Caitlin. I noticed the lady in the wellies. As soon as she saw us, she went the other way.
When we got to the area where dogs are allowed off their lead, I let Shimmer go and she bolted off towards a family having a picnic with two toddlers. In a flash, she helped herself to their sandwiches. One gulp and they were gone (the sandwiches, not the children). I blew the whistle Dad had given me, but Shimmer took no notice. And I did go over and apologise, but the couple were too busy calming their terrified toddlers.
Once again, I knelt down, looked Shimmer in the eyes and said, ‘No.’ She licked my face in response. Ew. A tuna and mayonnaise flavoured lick. So not what I want to smell of.
Caitlin asked if Mum or Dad had said any more about letting me keep Shimmer. She is so happy with Cola and Pepsi and is forever showing me photos of them that she’s taken on her phone. I wish I had the same confidence that Shimmer was really really mine. I replied that my plan was to be Very Well Behaved Daughter and to train Shimmer to be Very Well Behaved Dog then they couldn’t refuse. Her question did worry me, though, because no one has mentioned finding Shimmer another home for ages, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking about it.
Day Six: Same park. This time I kept Shimmer on a lead, but when a child eating an ice cream walked past us, Shimmer got the scent of it. Vanilla, her favourite. She pulled at her lead and went for it; the girl tumbled over, dropped the ice cream and with one suck it was gone. Oops. Apologised to her parents. Am thinking of getting a sign printed and having it stuck to my forehead saying I AM SORRY ABOUT MY DOG.
Repeat of Day Five, on my knees, I say, ‘No,’ to Shimmer. A big lick back – vanilla flavoured this time.
She did make some new friends though: Bentley, Eddie and Tiger. Funny how their way of saying hi is to sniff each other’s bottom. Not very ladylike in my opinion, but it seems to be the thing to do if you’re a dog.
Day Seven: Out on our walk with Robbie again. He loves coming with us and is a real sweetie, plus Shimmer seems to like him too. Before I could stop her, Shimmer ate some bit of old rubbish she found on the path then got a runny tummy. On the way home, she pooed in someone’s driveway. Ew. And not the kind I could put in a poo bag (double ew) so I tipped my bottle of water over it and we ran off and hid behind a bush. Robbie couldn’t stop laughing again and Shimmer looked very happy to be hiding as it is one of her favourite games. I really hope no one saw us, especially Mr Braithwaite. The last thing we need is another horrible headline. Westalls’ Family Pet Strikes Again. Shimmer is a very loving dog but a stubborn one, and this train-your-dog lark is not as easy as they make it look on YouTube.
After a few weeks, Shimmer seemed to be getting the hang of some of the more basic commands and responded to the whistle that Dad had given me to bring her back if ever she ran too far. I’d stuck with it and repeated and repeated her lessons, giving rewards when she was good and ignoring her or saying ‘No, bad girl’ when she was disobedient, and blowing the whistle so she knew where I was if she’d wandered off. In the end, she caught on and I could tell she understood my different tones of voice. Hurrah!
On the last Saturday in June, I went with Caitlin into the village for the next step in Shimmer’s training, which was learning to be with other people. So far, she’d thought everyone was her friend, all food was for her and rubber boots were for peeing on. I had to get her to behave better in public.
She trotted up and down the village street and was the model of good behaviour. She didn’t pull on the lead, she stopped when I told her to and she sat when I told her to. I felt so proud of her.
‘Seeing as it’s so hot,’ Caitlin said, ‘maybe we should try the beach, where you can let her off the lead.’
‘OK, let’s see how she gets on.’
We got the bus and, once again, Shimmer was very good and sat at my feet quietly.
‘I think we’re making progress,’ I told Caitlin.
When we got there, the beach was packed, people were sunbathing and I noticed there were a few dogs running around and enjoying the freedom. I quickly checked to see if there were any sandwiches or ice creams around, but the coast seemed to be clear.
‘OK, Shimmer,’ I said as I let her off the lead. ‘Now stay.’ Shimmer took no notice, charged off and straight into the water, darting in and out of the waves with glee. ‘She loves the sea. It’s becoming her favourite thing.’
We watched for a while then Caitlin suddenly pointed. ‘Oops,’ she said.
Shimmer had got out of the water and run over to where a couple were snoozing in the sun, the man in a pair of shorts and the woman in her bikini.
I knew what was going to happen, and there was nothing I could do. Shimmer stood right next to them . . . and did the doggie shake. Her outline was a blur of fur and water, and the couple leaped up as though they’d been electrocuted. If Shimmer hadn’t been my dog, I would have burst out laughing, but the man started yelling at Shimmer and running after her. He looked really angry and was definitely not one to mess with.
Caitlin looked worried. ‘Let’s pretend she’s not with us,’ she said.
‘It’s tempting but . . . I have to own up,’ I replied.
I was about to go forward when suddenly a boy appeared and called Shimmer to him – Liam! Shimmer recognised him and went straight to him. He reached down and held Shimmer by her collar. Although we couldn’t hear, I could see by Liam’s body language that he was apologising to the couple, backing away from them and almost bowing. Shimmer soon got the message and backed away too. They looked as if they were backing away from a king, both bowing their heads, and again it was hard not to laugh. The man in the shorts still looked mad though, his face red with anger. He shouted something, then Liam headed towards us and luckily the man went back to his girlfriend.
Liam handed Shimmer to me and I quickly put her back on her lead. ‘See the dog training’s going well then,’ he said, but not in a nasty way.
‘Liam, thank you so much. You took the rap for us,’ I said.
Liam shrugged. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I’m well used to grown-ups yelling at me . . . and stuck-up girls like Poppy Pengilly yelling at me too. But listen, I know that bloke, he’s a mate of my dad’s and believe me, you don’t want to get in his bad books.’ Then he grinned. ‘You should have seen their faces though. Shimmer, you bad dog, you soaked them.’
Shimmer wagged her tail, delighted as always to be the centre of attention.
I sighed. ‘It’s not easy training a dog, you know. For a start, we’re supposed to ignore her when she’s been bad, not make a fuss of her.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Liam. ‘You’ll get the hang of it. Dogs are simple creatures. Ignore them when they’re behaving badly, reward them when they’ve done something right.’
Caitlin planted a big kiss on Liam’s cheek. ‘And you just did something right,’ she said.
‘Be-wuhnuh,’ Liam stuttered. He’d gone bright red. So he’s not always Mr Cool-as-a-cucumber, I thought as I gave him a big hug.
Chapter Fifteen
Invasion of the Men in Suits
Dear Diary,
House: doors are open, windows are open, the sunshine is shining in, it feels like a different place to when we landed mid-winter.
Animals: the Cluckie Gang (hens) seem happy, though Shimmer does like to run around their coop and bark at them. Ginger has taken to sunbathing and is usually found on his back, legs akimbo in the sunniest spot. He still biffs Shimmer on the nose if she gets too close but they get on pretty well otherwise. Everything is OK as long as Shimmer remembers rule number one: Ginger Is Boss.
Have noted men in suits about the place the last few weeks.
Dad has been in touch with people he calls ‘the powers that be’ which sounds to me like a sci-fi movie. The Powers That Be: coming soon to a cinema near you.
In reality, they have been here on official business which meant Josh, Shimmer, Ginger and I had to keep out of their way whenever they were here. We can’t risk the wee machine (Shimmer) doing anything to upset them.
One lot was to talk about registering our rescue centre as a charity and to get the proper licences for keeping animals in place.
Another lot were The Planners. Not a rock group, they are the men from the council who all seem very serious, shake their heads a lot, look at Mum’s architect’s drawings and do a lot of pointing. It means things on the Silverbrook Farm project are moving, which is GOOD.
It is also June and the best place to be is on the beach. Caitlin, Shimmer and I head there whenever we can and sometimes we let Robbie come with us too. Caitlin is in heaven because there are boys there, even surfer boys. They think they are mega cool in their shades. The snooty girls hang around a lot, which annoys Caitlin. They walk up and down the beach as though they are on a catwalk, strut, strut, turn and flick their hair about a lot as if to say, ‘Look at me, I am soooo gorgeous’. Shimmer is in heaven because the beach café is open for the summer and it sells ice cream and sausages.
The sun is out, it is Saturday (and I love Saturdays) and Compton Truit is a happening place to be. The beach is where I am going now so goodbye dear diary, adieu.
I headed for the front door, where I picked up the post from the mat. I took it into Mum in the kitchen and she sifted through.
‘Richie, there’s one here from the council,’ she called out the window to Dad. He came running in as Mum opened the letter. Her face immediately dropped. ‘Permission refused,’ she said.
There was a moment of silence. ‘No!’ Dad exclaimed. ‘Let me see.’ He read the letter and sighed. ‘I suppose we can appeal . . . but it sounds pretty definite.’
‘So back to square one,’ said Mum.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘The council have refused us permission to convert the stables and outbuildings,’ said Dad.
‘But why?’ I asked.
‘Objections from some of the locals,’ said Dad. ‘So they weren’t all as on board as we’d thought. And we were all ready to start in a few weeks’ time.’
They both looked so fed up. I wished there was something I could do.
‘After all our hard work,’ said Mum, ‘who could have objected?’
Dad shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ll try and find out then see what we can do to persuade them round to our way of thinking.’ He looked over at me and Shimmer, who was waiting expectantly in the hall with her lead in her mouth. ‘You go, Amy; no point in us all hanging around here. I’ll make some enquiries and see what we can do.’
‘We’re still the outsiders, that’s what it is,’ said Mum. ‘No matter what we do.’
Shimmer and I met Caitlin at the end of our lane and we caught the bus to the coast.
‘Might be an idea if we take a walk in one of the fields nearby before we head for the beach, that way, Shimmer can let off some steam,’ I suggested.
‘Yes, we don’t want a repeat of the famous wet dog incident,’ Caitlin agreed.
When we got off the bus, I kept Shimmer on the lead along the lane but once we reached the open fields to the left of the posh houses, I let her go and she was off, bounding around, sniffing everything in sight with her usual enthusiasm.
I blew my whistle and she came racing back. ‘Excellent. Result,’ I said.
Caitlin laughed. ‘She always looks like she’s smiling, doesn’t she?’
‘That’s because she is,’ I replied. ‘Unlike Mum and Dad when I left them.’ I filled her in on the latest news from the council.
‘That’s just mean,’ she said. She opened her arms wide, looked up to the sky and said, ‘Dear whoever’s up there, we need help down here. We need a miracle . . . Come on, Amy. Join in. We should do a rain dance to ask the council to change their minds.’
I opened my arms out as Caitlin had done and looked up at the sky. ‘Good idea, my mad friend. Anything’s worth a go.’
We danced in a circle like Red Indians, put our arms up in the air and Caitlin chanted, ‘Ombabumga, good fairies help us. Wicked Witch of the West, release us from your spell. And you too, Snow Queen of Narnia – and whoever else has put a hex on the Silverbrook project.’
I laughed. ‘That ought to do it.’
That done, we walked on a bit further and I threw the ball for Shimmer and off she went. It was so hot that Caitlin and I decided we’d lie on the grass and soak up a bit of sun before heading down to the sea. After a few minutes, I realised Shimmer hadn’t come back with the ball. I sat up to look for her and could see her at the far end of the field near a gate. She had her nose to the ground. Clearly, she’d smelled something of interest. I hoped it wasn’t a
rabbit or a squirrel or someone with a picnic.
‘Shimmer!’ I called. She looked up then went back to sniffing.
I blew the whistle. She still didn’t come back.
‘I don’t believe it,’ I said. ‘I really thought she was getting the hang of being obedient.’ I got out my little tin of dog treats and shook it. ‘Last resort. She always comes when she knows there’s something nice for her to eat.’
Shimmer glanced over at us then went back to sniffing. Suddenly, she came bounding over to where we were.
‘Good girl,’ I said when she reached us and I gave her a treat. ‘I shouldn’t be having to use titbits at this stage of your training, but never mind.’
Shimmer gulped down her treat then she pulled the end of my jeans with her mouth. ‘No, Shimmer,’ I said. ‘I want to stay here.’
She let go, ran off a few paces then came back and started tugging on my jeans again. She let go and ran off in the direction of the corner of the field and started barking.
‘What’s she doing?’ asked Caitlin.
She was acting really strangely. Running away a short distance, then coming back and tugging at my jeans, then running off again.
‘I think she wants us to go with her,’ I said. ‘No, Shimmer. We want to sunbathe. You run about but not too far.’ I lay back down on the grass.
Shimmer woofed and raced off back to the corner of the field, where she began to bark loudly. I sat up.
‘I think she’s found something,’ said Caitlin. ‘Let’s go and see what she’s looking at.’
Reluctantly, we got up and trudged across the field to where Shimmer was busy sniffing the ground.
Caitlin saw him first. A man in the grass wearing rider’s gear and a helmet, lying very still. ‘Oh my God,’ she said and pointed.
It was Mr Pengilly. ‘He’s been hurt,’ I gasped. ‘We have to get help, phone an ambulance.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Caitlin and pulled out her phone.
A Home for Shimmer Page 10
