We Won an Island
Page 11
Margot took a deep breath, calmed down and helped steer the plane over the woods. I saw a glimpse of the stables beneath the leaves, and the damaged roof. It didn’t look too bad from the air. Maybe we’d have enough money from the festival to fix it after all.
We flew back over the festival and started our descent. The lower we got, the more I could see. Two figures were dancing together at the edge of the festival, one in red and the other blue. I couldn’t be sure, but they looked an awful lot like Mum and Dad. Maybe my birthday wishes would come true after all.
Six Months Later
I unbolted the stable and a donkey plodded out. He bent down and licked the snow. It covered his muzzle like icing sugar.
“Good morning, Monty,” I said, stroking the donkey’s neck.
Monty poked his tongue out at me.
I gave him a carrot to chew, and tied a blanket across his back. The fur on his pot belly gleamed in the cold sunshine. It was hard to believe it’d been so matted and smelly when Kai had found him three months ago, wandering one of the fields.
“You’re going to have a new friend today,” I told him. “Another stray. She should be arriving at any minute.”
Monty nuzzled my arm, and I led him down to the beach. Snow had settled on the sand and was melting slowly. Above us, an aeroplane circled, and I waved at it. The plane’s wings dipped in greeting. Margot’s first proper flying lesson with Mr Billionaire seemed to be going well. He’d offered to give her lessons once a month, in exchange for private yoga lessons, and more knitted slippers.
“Luna, I made your new donkey a welcome present,” said Fabien, running over with a huge bundle in his arms.
I took the knitted lump. “Wow, thanks. What is it exactly?”
“It’s a jumper, so he doesn’t get cold,” said Fabien.
A herd of goats skipped over to us. The smallest one bent his head to lick Fabien’s shoe, and then butted me in the knees. I winced, and Fabien lured it away with a clump of seaweed.
“Good boy, Aristotle,” he said to the goat.
I gazed out to sea and spotted a boat on the horizon. As it got closer, I saw the outline of a donkey wobble about on deck. My heart raced with excitement. The second resident of Luna’s Donkey Sanctuary was almost here.
I waded out into the shallows to greet the boat. Dad guided it into the mooring and steadied the donkey. I took an apple from my pocket, and tried to coax it down the ramp and out of the boat. The donkey swayed from side to side, looked a bit seasick and then trotted on to the sand.
“Don’t be scared,” I told her, grabbing her lead. “You’re home now.”
Monty plodded over to the new donkey and sniffed her. She brayed a happy hello. They seemed to like each other.
“What are you going to call her?” asked Dad.
“I don’t know. How about Moon, because of her silver fur?” I said.
“Monty and Moon,” he replied, pondering the two donkeys. “It sounds like a detective agency.”
I smiled. Maybe they could solve the mystery of where Fabien’s sheep costume had gone. The outfit had mysteriously vanished from his wardrobe a few months ago, along with its smell of damp earth and goat poo. I suspected Margot might have had something to do with it.
Dad went back to the house to work on his new painting, and I led the donkeys up to the stables with Fabien. Moon immediately headed for a pile of hay, and began munching her way through it. I sighed with relief. She was going to be happy here, just like Dad was starting to be.
Margot’s aeroplane passed overhead, and descended towards the sea. Fabien and I left the donkeys to eat their breakfast and headed back to the beach to meet her. She was wearing an aviator jacket and had a grin wider than Australia on her face.
“Did you see me?” she asked as she clambered out of the plane.
“Yes, you were brilliant,” I said.
“Thanks,” she replied. “All that flying’s made me hungry.”
Mr Billionaire gave me a wave, and then taxied for take-off. He was going to the mainland to talk to Kai’s mum about reopening the Wishnook Community Theatre. Kai was really excited about the idea, so I’d ordered him a book about how to direct plays for his birthday. I had a funny feeling his debut might involve Margot’s Amelia Earhart script.
“Let’s go back for lunch,” I said as the plane flew out of sight. “We can start planning next year’s festival.”
“I’ve been working on a dance routine for it with the goats,” said Fabien.
“Brilliant,” I laughed, and the three of us headed back across the island, towards home.
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First published in the UK in 2019 by Nosy Crow Ltd
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Text © Charlotte Lo, 2019
Cover illustration © Aviel Basil, 2019
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