by Holly Webb
“Um, a bit…” she murmured.
“It’s a big change. But it’s a friendly class – I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She nodded encouragingly at Lola.
“Anybody would be nervous. I’ll show you the classroom and where you’ll be sitting, and then I’ll take you out to the playground and find a couple of the other girls to look after you.”
“OK.” Lola had to swallow hard to say it. She tried to remember the deer in the garden, the wonderful moment when she had first seen them. A day couldn’t start like that and then go wrong. It just couldn’t.
And it didn’t. But it didn’t go right either. It was just … fine. No one was mean to her. Everyone smiled and said hello, and the two girls Miss Addison asked to look after her were friendly. But Lola didn’t belong. Everyone else in the class had been at the school for ages. They knew all about each other. Who had got lost in the museum on the school trip and who threw up on the Head’s shoes in assembly and That Thing That Had Happened in Year Two – stuff that she would never be able to catch up on.
Those first couple of weeks of term, Lola did her best to join in but everything she said seemed to come out slightly wrong. She kept on trying but it was such hard work having to try all the time. It was so much easier not to say anything. Just smile and wander off to the library or the chess club or coding group. Things where she didn’t have to join in much.
It was OK – Lola loved reading and she didn’t mind being on her own most of the time. At least, she didn’t mind very much… No one seemed to notice that she stayed in the background and didn’t talk, although she knew Miss Addison was keeping an eye on her in the playground – and probably reporting back to Mum.
Mum kept gently suggesting that Lola should invite someone round but Lola just couldn’t imagine it. None of the girls in her class were anything like Eloise or Amie. She said “mmm” and “maybe”, and then tried to change the subject. But that wasn’t going to hold Mum off forever.
Even though the deer hadn’t been the magic good omen that Lola had hoped, she still loved them. They seemed to like the garden early in the morning and in the evening, just as the light was fading a little. They would come stepping delicately through the bramble bushes as the shadows began to lengthen.
If Lola finished her homework off fast (luckily Miss Addison didn’t seem to believe in homework as much as her old teacher, Mrs Lacey), she could scramble up the rope ladder to the tree house and lie stretched out flat on the platform. Lola kept so, so still that the deer never knew she was there and she could watch them till Mum called her for dinner. But as soon as they heard Mum open the back door, the deer would tense, their heads lifting – Lola was sure she could even see their eyes widen. And then they would melt away into the evening, gone in moments.
Mum and Lola saw them in other places too, not just the garden. They seemed to spend a lot of time in the graveyard – which made sense because it was very quiet and peaceful – but they wandered all the way up the street and out on to the main road as well.
Their new neighbour, Callie, came round to say hello, and when Mum mentioned the deer she heaved a huge sigh and explained that she thought she was going to have to give up having roses in her garden. She loved the deer, she said, but they loved her rose bushes. They jumped over her fence and nibbled the juicy growing shoots and the flower buds and there was just no point having roses, not unless she put them in some sort of deer-proof cage. She promised to give Mum a list of plants that deer didn’t like very much, for when they did their garden.
They hadn’t made that much of a start on it yet – there was so much to do in the house first. But one weekend in May, after they’d been in the house for about a month, Mum decided that they should go and buy a new lawnmower and cut the grass at last. The little mower they’d had for the tiny garden in their old house just wasn’t going to cope.
“Can we keep the grass long around the horse chestnut tree?” Lola asked as she watched her mum plug in the new mower.
“Are you thinking about the deer?” Mum said. “Don’t worry, I don’t want them to stop coming into the garden, either. I’m not sure they’d mind if the grass was cut, though. It grows quickly, and they might even like it more when it’s juicy and fresh. We can watch what they do. OK. Here we go.”
Mum turned on the mower and started to push it through the long tangled grass. Lola watched – it was quite soothing, hearing the mower buzz and sniffing the sweet smell of cut grass. She sat down on one of the newly cut patches and tried to imagine what the garden would look like all tidy. She had a feeling it might be better a bit wild. But it would be good to be able to use the football goal.
Then the mower made a growling sort of yelp and Mum yelped too.
“What happened?” Lola asked, jumping up and dashing over as Mum turned the mower off and crouched down to look at it. “You didn’t run over the wire, did you?” Dad had done that once; he’d said it was surprisingly easy to do.
“No… Oh … it’s a stone. More like a rock. I hope it hasn’t bent the blades.” Mum peered worriedly at the mower. “I think it’s OK. But could you do me a favour, Lola? Could you walk along in front of the mower and check for anything else like that? The grass is so long there could be who knows what in there.”
Lola eyed the mower suspiciously.
“I won’t run you over with it, I promise,” Mum said, and then she crossed her fingers and grinned.
“If you run me over, you have to tell Miss Addison I was too injured to do that maths worksheet.”
“Deal.” Mum started up the mower again, and Lola grabbed a fallen branch from one of the trees and swished it through the grass in front of her. She found a couple of squishy footballs and a cross frog that she had to pick up and take to a safe spot in the bushes. She went on a bit more gently after she found the frog, carefully parting the grass in front of her with the stick in case any more of them jumped out at her.
There were no more frogs. But then Lola swept aside a thick clump of grass and stopped dead, staring. Just in front of her feet was a tiny creature gazing up at her with dark anxious eyes.
“What is it?” Mum called. “Another frog?”
Lola didn’t answer – she hardly heard. The fawn wasn’t moving – it was still curled in a tight ball in the grass, watching her. It was a rich golden-brown colour, the fur darkening almost to black along its back, and thickly dappled with white spots. Lola couldn’t tear her eyes away.
There was a hush as Mum turned off the lawnmower and came to look. “Lola, what is it? Oh…”
Lola turned slowly, gazing around the garden. She was looking for the fawn’s mother – it was so small, surely too small to have been left on its own. “Where’s its mum?” she whispered. “I can’t see any other deer. Can you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why did she leave her baby here all alone?” Lola asked worriedly. “It looks so scared.”
“She could still be close by,” Mum said thoughtfully. “You know how good their camouflage is.”
They were right at the end of the garden, not far from the broken fence that divided it from the graveyard, and there were tangled clumps of brambles all around. The fawn’s mother could be waiting anywhere, just out of sight.
“We’d better not disturb it – and the mum won’t want to come back while we’re here. Let’s go and get a drink,” Mum suggested. “Can we see down this far from the kitchen window?”
Lola shook her head. “I don’t think so. But maybe from my bedroom.”
Mum started to roll the lawnmower back along the garden and Lola followed her. Then she darted back and laid her stick down a little way from the fawn’s hiding place so they could tell where it was.
They dashed upstairs to sit on Lola’s bed and watch for the mother deer to come back.
“Well done for putting the stick there,” Mum murmured. “I wouldn’t be able to see where the fawn was if you hadn’t done that. It just melts into the grass.”
>
“The mum’s not coming,” Lola said anxiously, kneeling up at the window. “I thought she’d come as soon as we went away.”
“Mmm, me too,” Mum admitted. “I’m sure she’ll show up soon.”
But she didn’t. They didn’t see any other deer in the garden, just the tiny splotch of golden brown that was the fawn, alone and still by the bramble bushes. Lola felt herself twitching with nerves every time a bird fluttered around in the trees or a car growled by further up the street. But the fawn in the grass didn’t move and no deer came.
“It’s been an hour,” Lola said at last, glancing down at her watch. “What if the fawn’s been abandoned? Maybe something’s happened to its mother?”
Mum gazed worriedly down at the garden for a moment more and then sat back, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I’m going to call Uncle Chris,” she said. “He’ll know what we ought to do.”
Uncle Chris had already come over to watch the deer with Lola a few times. He loved them almost as much as she did and she was starting to find him a bit easier to talk to. He wouldn’t go up in the tree house, though. At first he just said he was too heavy and he wasn’t risking it. But then he’d looked at Lola swinging about on the ladder and shuddered. He didn’t really like heights, he admitted, and the tree looked extremely high up. Somehow, being worried about heights made him seem a lot less scary.
“Hey. Have you got a minute, Chris? Lola and I just found a baby deer in the garden when I was cutting the grass… Mmm, curled up in the long grass at the end where all those brambles are… No, it looks fine – I mean, I think it does. But there’s no sign of the mum and it’s been over an hour since we first spotted it. Should we be worried? We weren’t sure if it had been abandoned, maybe.”
Lola leaned closer to hear what Uncle Chris was saying and Mum put the phone on speaker for her.
“It might have been. But honestly, Molly, it’s far more likely that the mum’s just off looking for food and she thinks she’s left her baby in a nice safe place. How was she to know you were finally going to get round to cutting the grass…”
“Hey!” Lola’s mum laughed. “Don’t be mean. You promised you’d help me! So you reckon the baby’s OK? The mum will come back for her?”
“Deer do leave their babies for quite a long time,” Uncle Chris said reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be back any moment now. Don’t worry, and I’ll see you soon. Say hi to Lola for me.”
“Bye, Uncle Chris,” Lola leaned over to say, and Mum ended the call.
“See? It’s OK,” she said.
“Mmm. Can I keep watching for the mum, though?”
“Sure. But I’ve got to make dinner now. I can bring it up here when it’s ready, if she still hasn’t come?”
“Thanks, Mum.” Lola hugged her and then went back to leaning on the windowsill, her chin propped on her hands. It was very peaceful, watching the quiet garden. She wondered how the little fawn was feeling. Was it worried about its mother coming back? Would it tell her what had happened?
Lola sat up straighter, peering at the broken fence. Was that something moving? Yes – a delicately pointed face had appeared, ears twitching as the deer made sure that everything was safe. She slipped through, stepping round the bramble bushes and then nosing her baby in the grass. The fawn scrambled up on spindly legs and nudged eagerly at its mother, nuzzling at her belly to find the milk. The mother stood silently in the darkening garden as the baby fed – and Lola watched, smiling to herself.
“What shall we have for dinner?” Mum asked as she parked the car in the drive. “It had better be something quick.” They’d gone straight from school to Lola’s Friday gymnastics class and it was past six already. “We could have pasta and tomato sauce. Or I could make a tuna salad.”
“Pasta, please,” said Lola. “Hey – what’s that noise?” she added as she stepped out of the car. She turned to look anxiously at Mum. “Is it Alfie?”
“I don’t know,” her mum said, looking around. “It doesn’t sound like a cat. But I suppose if he was hurt… We’d better go and see.”
“It’s coming from the garden. Oh, Mum, maybe that fox came into the garden again! Uncle Chris said that sometimes foxes can hurt cats.”
They had seen quite a lot of different animals in the garden as the evenings grew lighter. There was a fox that padded regularly in and out of the brambles, and they’d even spotted a badger hurrying around the side of the house. The hole in the fence seemed to be a highway for all sorts of wildlife.
“Alfie’s far too sensible to go anywhere near a fox,” Mum said. She was trying to be reassuring but Lola wasn’t sure she actually believed what she was saying.
Then the cat flap in the kitchen door clicked and Alfie emerged with an indignant mew. He liked his tea no later than half past four, and that was pushing it. After six was just rude.
“Oh, you’re OK!” Lola gasped, crouching down to stroke him. “But what’s that noise then?”
It actually sounded more like a baby than a cat, Lola thought, as they hurried into the main part of the garden. A loud angry wail, echoing down the lawn.
“Maybe one of the deer’s got stuck in the fence,” Lola’s mum suggested and they sped up.
When they came level with the horse chestnut tree, Lola put out a hand to grab Mum. There was a deer there – but she wasn’t stuck in the fence. She was standing in the middle of the grass. She’d obviously seen them – she looked very anxious – but she wasn’t running away.
The loud bawling noise erupted again and the deer started to circle, looking panicked. She clearly didn’t want to be so close to Lola and Mum but something was stopping her from leaving.
Lola clutched her mum tighter. “Look – in the football net. It must be her baby. That’s why she won’t run.”
“What’s it doing?” Mum whispered. “Oh, it must have got itself caught up in there. Poor little thing.”
The fawn bawled even louder. It could obviously see Mum and Lola, and it was terrified. It kicked and struggled but it was completely tangled up in the strings of the net. The mother kept darting round and round, the white underside of her tail flashing in the shadows. She was trying to work out how to free her baby, and stay away from Lola and Mum, all at the same time.
“It can’t get out,” Lola said. “Look – the net’s all around its legs.”
“I know,” Mum agreed grimly. “And it can’t keep twisting about like that. Its legs look so delicate – I’m sure it’s going to get hurt.”
“We could cut the net,” Lola said, edging a little closer. “I bet we could, Mum. With the kitchen scissors. If we could get the fawn to keep still.”
Mum shook her head. “I’m not sure, Lola. I don’t want you getting too close.”
“Mum, please…” Lola could see the fawn’s eyes – it looked panicked. They were such shy creatures, usually they darted away as soon as they saw anyone. And now the little thing couldn’t escape. She couldn’t imagine how frightened it must be feeling.
“I suppose I could hold it still and you could do the cutting,” Mum said slowly. “Would you be brave enough to do that, Lola? We might get hurt – the fawn is kicking, and I expect those little hooves are sharp.”
“I don’t care. I’ll get the scissors.” Lola raced back down the garden and grabbed the handle to the back door – then she realized that it was locked, of course. They hadn’t even got in the house when they’d heard the noise. She had to grab Mum’s bag from the car and open the front door.
She dashed into the kitchen, snatched up the scissors, unlocked the back door, then ran back to Mum. The fawn was still crying, sounding more and more desperate now as it tugged uselessly at the net.
“OK…” Mum took a deep breath. “If the mother looks like she’s going to attack us, Lola, we’ll have to stop and go back to the house. We can call Uncle Chris for help.” She hesitated. “Maybe we should call him now anyway. He might have a better way to do this.”
Lol
a shook her head. “There’s no time, Mum. Look at the way it’s thrashing about. It could break a leg.”
Mum sighed. “You’re right. We’ve got to try and do this ourselves – but if it’s too difficult or you get scared, we’re stopping, OK? Ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
They crept quietly towards the fawn, trying not to make any sudden movements that would frighten it even more. The mother flitted towards them and then back again, uttering shrill peeping cries. It sounded as though she was begging her baby to hurry up and get out.
“Can you hold it still?” Lola asked, looking on as Mum crouched down by the fawn.
“Ooof… Yes, but probably not for long, it’s so wriggly. See if you can cut the net.”
Lola crouched down, trying to avoid the flailing hooves as the baby squeaked with horror. Its legs were thin but surprisingly strong – and so was the net. It was a sort of plastic thread that was really tough to cut through. Lola had to hack at it with the scissors.
“Not much longer,” she gasped to Mum finally. “That’s the front legs free. I’m going round the other side to get at its back legs, OK?”
“Watch out for the mother,” Mum said, still gripping the struggling baby. “She’s circling around and she hates this. She doesn’t know we’re trying to help.”
Lola stood up cautiously, keeping an eye on the mother deer as she hurried round the back of the net. The mother was plunging about the garden and it looked as though any minute now she was going to pluck up the courage to fling herself at Mum. Lola wasn’t sure what she would do – whether she might bite or kick. She wasn’t a fighting sort of animal – female roe deer didn’t even have antlers to attack with. But Lola was pretty sure that she could manage a hefty kick if she tried.
She sawed hurriedly at the strands around the fawn’s back legs. There wasn’t going to be that much net left when she’d finished, she realized, but that was probably a good thing. Another deer might get itself tangled up.