by J. C. Jones
‘Hey, dog,’ she said. ‘You coming or what?’
He woofed but didn’t wake, so Pip shrugged. It would be nice to have company on what would be a long walk, but maybe he had other plans – if animals had plans, that was. Well, she was fine with the dog doing his own thing, even if it meant a lonely journey for her.
The lights changed and she crossed the road. No sooner had she reached the other side than she heard a whine, and the dog limped into view. Seeing her, it gave a joyful yip and hopped from the kerb down onto the road, right into the path of an oncoming car.
‘No!’ Pip shouted and the little dog stopped, looking confused. ‘Go back!’ Pip screamed, but it stood there, looking from Pip to the approaching headlights as though its legs were frozen. Without stopping to think, Pip darted into the road, screaming something even she didn’t understand, scooped up the little dog and dived for the kerb.
With a whoosh of air the car skimmed her leg and was gone, its horn blasting until it faded into the distance.
The Journey Home
Pip rolled onto her back, still holding the dog, which shook and trembled in fear. Pip, shaking too, slowly placed him on the ground. If dogs did have planning ability, she could only think that this one had been plotting to turn himself into road kill. To turn them both into road kill!
‘That was close, dog,’ she said when she had found her voice. He licked her hand as she stood on wobbly legs. She returned to their little camp and found the rope that had bound his back legs. The dog backed away as she picked it up, his entire body trembling and big brown eyes full of reproach.
‘It’s not what you think.’ She looped the end loosely around his neck and tied it in a firm knot. ‘This is just until we’re away from busy roads.’
At first the dog pulled and whined but eventually he settled down as though understanding Pip meant him no harm.
Taking the near miss as a sign that the right fork was not the path for them, Pip went left towards the city and the sunrise in the east, and soon spotted signs to places that were close to home. At some point she thought she would have to turn left again to get to Spring Hill.
Half an hour later, as rush hour began, they were passing the Randwick racetrack. Pip’s heart sank as she realised that the police still had her race winnings. How was she supposed to pay for Sully’s rehab now? They had taken every cent she had!
Pushing money worries out of her head, she focused on finding the best way home. It was hard work. Her soles ached with pounding the pavement, and the dog’s limp worsened. At Moore Park, she found a bubbler and drank thirstily. Some kind person had left a plastic bowl for dogs. When she filled it, the mutt lapped the water up enthusiastically.
They rested for half an hour before taking the road towards Redfern and Newtown. Once she got to Newtown, Pip was confident she could find her way to Spring Hill pretty easily. There was still plenty of ground to cover, but they were on the right path.
They made such slow progress that it was mid-afternoon before they reached the park on Elliott Street. By that time, Pip was carrying the dog, which was too tired to continue, and any relief she felt at finding her way back was swamped by a tide of sheer exhaustion. Even though the house was just metres away now, it might as well have been a hundred kilometres.
Just put one foot in front of the other, she told herself, staggering from the park onto the street. She was swaying, rather like Sully when he was drunk. She knew she should be careful in case Matilda was home and spotted her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to be safely inside.
At last she was unlocking the door and sliding it open. Dropping the dog on the rug, she made for the bathroom. It was hard to stand but she got into the shower, where she stood under the torrent fully clothed, letting the water revive her enough to strip to her skin and soap herself from head to toe.
Pip was just wrapping a towel around herself when the doorbell sounded. Scarcely daring to breathe, she clung to the side of the bathtub expecting to hear the tread of footsteps on the stairs at any moment.
Eventually, when the bell did not sound again and there was nothing but the drone of a lawnmower in the distance, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. The dog was asleep on the living room rug.
Pip had a drink of juice and a banana that she’d hidden with the rest of her supplies at the back of a kitchen drawer. Then she emptied the fruit bowl, now full of limes, and filled it with water, which she placed near the dog in case he woke up thirsty.
Then, still in the towel, she crawled onto the big couch and fell into a sleep full of restless dreams in which Sully was standing there calling her name, but she couldn’t wake up to answer him.
When Pip came suddenly awake, it was after five and she felt groggy and thick-headed. She felt only a little bit better, like she could have slept for hours more. The dog still did, legs in the air twitching.
The doorbell rang, impatiently, and she realised that was what had roused her. She sat on the couch and waited for the visitor to go away, but unlike whoever had called before, this person was persistent. Even the dog was awake now, grumbling in a low voice even though she told him to shush.
The bell was shrill and she covered her ears. The dog began to whine, and then to bark.
Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. It was probably some person collecting money for charity. Stomping to the door, clutching her towel firmly around her, Pip whipped off the chain and pulled open the door ready to tell whoever was standing there to just go away.
She opened her mouth and it stayed like that. Because on her doorstep was Indigo/Bruce, in the arms of Matilda Browning.
‘Pip!’ Matilda said. ‘What have—’
She didn’t get a chance to finish because Pip pulled her inside, and they stood there in the dim hallway. Matilda stared at her, before finishing the question that wasn’t quite what Pip was expecting.
‘What have you done to your hair?’
To Pip, who had endured arrest, escape from a nuthouse, a night in the cold, a near-death experience and a long, uncomfortable walk home, it was the most ridiculous question ever – but very ‘Matilda’! Despite her irritation and tiredness, she couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. And once she’d started laughing, she couldn’t stop.
Howling, she slumped to the floor as Matilda stood there staring, an uncertain smile on her face. Pip clutched her aching sides and towel with one arm and swiped at her tears of laughter with the other hand.
When Pip finally got a grip, Matilda said, ‘I didn’t mean . . . it was just . . . your hair looks like a dead animal on your head.’ All that did was set Pip off again until Matilda joined her and then they both rolled around on the floor screaming with laughter until their insides ached so much they couldn’t laugh anymore.
Pip was the first to sit back up, feeling strangely better for her hysterical laughter. She eyed Matilda, whose face for once was blotchy and hair half out of its sleek ponytail. Even her pale green sundress was rumpled.
‘That was fun,’ Pip said. ‘But what are you doing here?’
‘What am I doing here?’ Matilda gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’
Pip shrugged. ‘I told you before. Sometimes I stay in Elliott Street.’
‘But . . . but not in this house. It’s been empty for months. My mum said there was an auction but nobody bought it, and the Beresfords who own it moved out to go and live in Hong Kong.’
‘It’s not empty,’ Pip said, folding her arms. ‘There’s a fridge and a couch and a TV. And beds, although they don’t have sheets, which is weird. And someone comes and puts fruit in the fruit bowl every week, although it’s just lots of lemons or limes.’
Matilda grinned. ‘My mum does that in the houses she sells. It’s just for show. It’s always ten apples or something. It’s stupid. I mean, who’s going to eat ten apples and nothing else?’
‘Ridiculous,’ Pip agreed. ‘Anyway, how did you know I was here?’
‘I saw you,’ Matild
a said, following the cat down the hallway. ‘Coming out of the park and walking down the street. I ran after you but you’d vanished. I rang the bell before—’
Just then the dog spotted Indigo/Bruce and erupted into a flurry of barks, while the cat spat and hissed from across the room.
‘Oh no!’ Pip sprang to the dog, sweeping him up just as Indigo/Bruce leapt at him, claws unfurled.
‘Indigo!’ Matilda yelled. ‘Stop it this minute!’ She tried to pick up the cat but it flew into the corner of the room, its odd-coloured eyes fixed on the dog, which clung to Pip.
It was a few minutes before things calmed down. In his fear, the little dog had piddled on Pip’s towel so she bundled him outside to do his business while Indigo/Bruce stared fiercely from the door. When the dog was ready to return inside, the cat was banished to the garden where she arched her back in displeasure and slunk out of sight.
‘She was always such a nice cat before,’ Pip said after exchanging the smelly towel for some clothes. She poured juice for herself and Matilda. ‘In fact, she showed me how to get in here when I needed somewhere to stay. I think she really does have special powers.’
‘I know she does!’
‘I don’t think the dog has special powers, though. I think he’s a bit hopeless, but that’s okay.’
‘Where did you find him?’
‘We sort of found each other. I was a bit lost, and he was crying because someone had tied his legs together.’
‘Who would do that?’ Matilda said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘That’s awful.’
‘Lots of creeps out there,’ Pip said. She guessed kids like Matilda wouldn’t know much about the nutters.
‘What’s his name?’
‘I don’t know. He doesn’t have a collar or anything. Just Dog, I guess.’
Matilda looked outraged. ‘He has to have a name.’
‘Or two,’ Pip said, grinning. ‘Like Indigo/ Bruce.’ They looked out at the cat, who was staring through the glass, still angry at being shut out. ‘Houdini would be a good name, after the guy who escaped all the time.’
‘Houdini! I like it!’ Matilda said. ‘It suits him.’ She patted the little dog. He wagged his tail. ‘Have you been here all the time you were missing?’
Pip nodded. She offered Matilda the juice and a muesli bar. ‘Pretty much. But you can’t tell anyone I’m here.’
‘But Pip, everyone—’
‘Promise me,’ Pip said. ‘No one must know or I’ll be locked up.’
Worry clouded Matilda’s face. ‘If I tell my mum, I’m sure she’ll make sure you’re not locked up.’
‘Your mum can’t stop it!’ Pip yelled. ‘She has no idea what goes on and neither do you! The police and the welfare, they lock up kids in places where anything can happen, they can do anything to you . . .’
Embarrassed by her outburst, she concentrated on her muesli bar, chomping it down in four bites.
‘I’m sorry,’ Matilda said.
‘People are just mean sometimes,’ Pip muttered.
She looked down and saw the raw marks around the dog’s legs. She should clean them. She filled the kitchen sink with warm water. Then she lifted the dog into the sink and gently washed his legs with soapy water. He shivered but didn’t try to run away, so she soaped him all over to get rid of the worst of the dirt.
‘The police caught up with me last night and they called Child Protection, who took me to stay with this lady who wasn’t very nice,’ she told Matilda as she rinsed Houdini. ‘She just looks after kids because they give her money to do it. So I ran away, and walked all the way back here.’
All wrung out, Pip didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She towel-dried Houdini and sat back down on the couch with him next to Matilda, who looked at both of them with such sympathy that Pip couldn’t be cross anymore.
‘Okay,’ Matilda said. ‘I won’t say anything. But you can’t stay here long.’
‘Why not? No one else is using it.’
‘But you can’t,’ Matilda replied. ‘Didn’t you notice the sign outside? The house got sold yesterday.’
The Front Page
Shortly after shocking Pip with the announcement that Number 78 Elliott Street had been sold, Matilda raced off to dinner, promising she would be back later with supplies.
She was as good as her word, returning an hour later with a slice of chicken pie still warm from the oven, yoghurt and a bar of chocolate. Pip fell on the feast, demolishing half the pie in a few gulps as Matilda looked on amazed.
‘Good,’ Pip said, licking pie crumbs from her fingers.
‘You’re lucky. I had to have broccoli and peas with mine,’ Matilda grimaced.
‘Do you get food like this all the time?’
‘Sure.’ Matilda frowned. ‘Mum likes to cook. She likes her job too, but she finishes early so she can pick me up from school and cook dinner.’
‘That’s nice,’ Pip said, trying not to be envious.
‘She fusses a bit because I’m an only child,’ Matilda told her. ‘She tried to have more children after me but she couldn’t.’ She looked at the purple watch on her wrist. ‘I can’t stay too long or she worries, especially after dark.’
‘Okay,’ Pip said. ‘Thanks for bringing dinner.’
‘Aren’t you going to finish it?’
‘It’s for Houdini. He’s starving too.’ Pip tipped the water out of the fruit bowl and spooned in the pie, which the little dog ate in a few hungry gulps.
Matilda rummaged in the bag she’d brought. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. I’ve got some other stuff for you.’ She pulled out some dog biscuits. ‘And for Houdini. We dog-sat for my auntie’s puppy a few months ago.’ Next came some books and some magazines. ‘I’ll tell you what homework we’re doing so you can keep up.’ The books were followed by some clothes. ‘These don’t fit me anymore, so I thought . . . you’re smaller than me.’ She shrugged.
‘That’s nice.’ Pip picked up the pretty lavender top and jeans that looked barely worn. She touched the lace trim on the top. Most of her own clothes were boys’ because that’s how Sully had dressed her since she was a baby and she’d just continued wearing the same styles without thinking about it. In fact, the only skirt she owned was her school uniform.
‘I have so much stuff . . .’ Matilda shrugged again as though she knew how unfair it was. ‘Oh, and I brought these!’
‘These’ turned out to be a pair of scissors. Grinning and clearly pleased with herself, Matilda brandished them. ‘I thought I could fix your hair. It won’t take long.’
Self-consciously, Pip put a hand to her hair, reminded of how ugly she must look. ‘I tried to make it so people wouldn’t recognise me. People usually think I’m a boy, anyway.’
‘Well, you don’t exactly do anything to try to look like a girl.’
Pip shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter. I’m ugly and scruffy anyway.’
Matilda reared back. ‘But you’re not ugly, Pip. You’re just different – in a good way,’ she added hastily. ‘You’ve got . . . character in your face! That’s what my nanna said when she saw your picture in the paper.’
‘I’m still scruffy.’
‘That’s easily fixed.’ Matilda pulled Pip up by the arm. ‘Come on.’
Pip let herself be dragged upstairs to the bathroom where Matilda turned on all the lights and made her sit in front of the long mirror. The snipping seemed to go on forever, with wisps of hair falling across her face and making her sneeze more than once.
The third time, she sneezed with such force her eyes shot open and she found herself staring at a version of herself she could never have imagined.
‘It’s . . . it’s . . .’ Pip stumbled into silence. It was amazing. With what little hair Pip had left on her head, Matilda had worked miracles. Somehow she’d cut it so it shaped Pip’s face, emphasising her eyes. Even her too-wide mouth looked more in proportion. She touched the short ends. ‘Wow,’ she said at last. ‘It looks . . . cool.’
‘I lov
e it!’ Matilda danced around the bathroom. She gave Pip a brief hug. ‘You look great.’
‘I really do,’ Pip whispered.
‘Oh no! I’m late. Got to rush or Mum will send out a search party. I’ll . . . I’ll come back tomorrow after school.’ Scissors in hand, she rushed downstairs, followed by Pip. She gave Houdini a hug, waved goodbye and vanished with a slam of the door.
A second later, she was back, knocking on the door. ‘Forgot to tell you, Mr Blair wasn’t at school last week because the police thought he might have done something bad, but he’s coming back this week,’ she said, when Pip opened it. Then she was gone again.
Hearing Houdini yipping – probably to be let out – Pip quickly tidied up the bathroom, throwing away the shorn hair, and took the magazines downstairs. Indigo/Bruce was nowhere in sight so she let the little dog race into the yard, where he promptly lifted his leg against a tree.
She smiled and tossed the magazines onto the couch and, as she did, a newspaper clipping flew out. It was a single column from the front page of this morning’s paper.
FOUND! POLICE TAKE MISSING PIP INTO CUSTODY
Missing ten-year-old, Pip Sullivan, was at the centre of an attempted theft at Randwick Racecourse yesterday afternoon, and was taken into police custody for her own safety.
Police were called after the theft of a spectator’s wallet. The crowd who raised the alarm, and who initially mistook Pip Sullivan for a boy, said that she was part of a gang of thieves.
‘The kid was with an older red-headed boy who ran for the exit as soon as he realised he’d been spotted,’ said spectator Dermot O’Malley, 38. ‘She looked thin and a bit scared but otherwise okay. The guy who nearly lost his wallet wanted her arrested, but he calmed down once the cops took her away.’
Police deny that the girl has been arrested for theft or any other offence and claim that they are still investigating.