Copyright © Patricia St John 1983
Second edition revised 2007
This edition 2015
e-book ISBN 978 1 84427 600 4 Last updated (16/09/2015)
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter one
It was half past three. And on that warm, sunny afternoon in early summer, the children were glad to get out of school. They ran across the playground, pushing and jostling out through the gate. Some jumped into waiting cars but most of them turned down the road that led to the village. Colin went with them, but where the road split in two he stopped and his friend Will stopped too.
“Here,” said Will, fishing in his school bag, “I’ve got something for her. My mum said I could have the leftovers.” And he pushed something wrapped in greaseproof paper into Colin’s hand.
“Thanks,” said Colin. “Coming to see her?”
Will shook his head.
“Not now. We’re going down to Gran’s for tea. Mum said I was to come straight home. Maybe I’ll come tomorrow. But, Cal, my dad said we’ve got to do something or tell someone. We can’t just keep on giving her things. What’ll happen when we go to camp?”
“That’s ages yet.”
“Yes, but —”
Colin stuffed the greaseproof paper into his bag with his school books and nodded. “I’ll tell my dad tonight,” he said. “He’ll know what to do. I wish… oh, I do wish…”
“What d’you wish?”
“That I could have her,” said Colin. “I just wish that she was mine. I’d soon fatten her up.”
Will nodded. “I might bring a sausage from Gran’s,” he said comfortingly. “She always gives us sausages! Bye, Cal, see you.” He ran off down the road. Colin crossed to the lane that led up the hillside toward his home. He was quite glad to be alone because he had a lot to think about. It was a beautiful day and late bluebells and buttercups grew along the hedge. The warm sun shone on his face and from somewhere in the oak wood a cuckoo called. Then he turned off the lane and climbed a little track that led to the common beyond. On the edge of the common was a cottage surrounded by a garden.
The garden gate was broken and the paint was cracked. Colin rested his chin on it and looked round. The garden was choked with weeds. The grass had grown as high as his knees. The windows of the cottage were dirty and tight shut. Colin gave a soft whistle.
Nothing happened.
Colin whistled quite loudly with his eye on the window.
There was a sudden rush. A black dog, half Labrador and half terrier, came streaking round the side of the house. She was barking excitedly. She put her paws on the bottom bars of the gate and pushed her nose through the gap. Her whole thin body shook with excitement. Colin pulled the greaseproof paper parcel out of his bag. He fed the dog with half a Cornish pasty and a piece of cheese. He also had some ham, broken bread and crackers from his lunchbox. He stuck his hand through the bars and stroked the thin dog. He could count every rib. The dog nosed his face, licked his cheeks and whined with pleasure.
“Don’t go,” she seemed to be saying. “Please don’t go. I need you so much.”
Colin stayed quite a long time, stroking and patting the dog. He spoke to her softly because she seemed to understand.
“I’m going to talk to my Dad about you,” said Colin. “I’m going to do something. I wish you were mine. I’d soon fatten you up and you’d be the best dog in the village. But I don’t suppose Dad would let me keep you. We’ve got Growler already on the farm. He’s our guard dog. He’s not nice and friendly like you.”
He left at last, turning back and waving at the twitching black nose poked through the bars. Then the track turned into the wood and he could no longer hear the short, sharp little barks. He felt very unhappy even though he had promised to go back tomorrow. He did not know who lived in that cottage. But he did know that someone was starving the dog. He hurried up the lane and into the farmyard at the top of the hill. He was home.
He liked living at the top of the hill. If he looked behind him, he could see the north end of the hills rising steeply behind his school. On the other side, the meadows sloped gently to the woods, hop fields and blossoming orchards of Worcestershire. It was like being on top of the world, thought Colin, as he trotted across the yard. He went straight to the milking shed. He was quite late and Dad would be busy with the cows. Colin pushed past the orderly herd that stood waiting their turn outside. He went into the big shed.
His father, in his white coat, was fastening the nozzles on the udders of the cows. The electric siphon was whining and the milk was sloshing in the tank. The cows mooed contentedly. It was quite noisy.
“Dad!” shouted Colin, standing on tiptoe. “There’s a dog and she’s very thin—”
“What’s that?” asked Dad, stooping down. “Dog? The dog’s all right, Colin. I’ve just fed him. Run in and tell Mum I’ll be along in about half an hour.”
Colin sighed. It was no good trying to talk to Dad during the milking. Perhaps Mum would help. He ran over to the house and found Mum putting a big shepherd’s pie in the oven. His sister, Joy, had just come in from her school.
“Mum,” said Colin, “there’s a poor dog and she’s very, very thin. She might be starving.”
“Then we’d best call the RSPCA. They care for animals that have been badly treated, don’t they? Who does this dog belong to, Colin?”
“I don’t know. It’s a cottage and it looks all shut up.”
“If she’s starving, the RSPCA’ll come and take her. Go and change, Colin, and then you can collect the eggs.”
About half an hour later they all sat down to their tea and Colin started again. “Dad, there’s a dog, and she’s very thin, almost starving. How do I get the RSPCA to come out to her?”
“Well, you’d best find out who she belongs to first. Where did you see her?”
“Will and I went up the common to look for nests last week. There’s a cottage at the edge of the common. It’s all untidy and shut up. Dad, the dog’s ever so thin.”
His father looked interested. “That’ll be old Charlie’s cottage,” he said. “He went to live there after his wife died. Strange old m
an, they say he is. Won’t let anyone into his house. But that dog was his best friend. Old Charlie would never mistreat his dog. There must be something wrong. Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“It was a sort of secret and we thought we’d feed her ourselves. Then we suddenly thought, maybe there’s no one there and we’d best tell.”
“Perhaps old Charlie’s ill or something,” said Mum. “Someone ought to call in. Maybe we’d better call the police.”
“Well, he might not like that,” said Dad. “How about asking the vicar? Would you give him a ring Colin? Ask him to call round to old Charlie’s, to see what’s happened.”
“Tell you what, Dad, I’ll go and get him.” Colin glanced out at the sloping shadows and the bright sky. It was still quite a long time to sunset. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
And he was out of the door before his parents could stop him.
Chapter two
Colin liked the vicar. Colin, Joy, Mum and Dad all went down to the family service on Sundays. Colin went to a group at the church on Wednesdays. Simon, the vicar, was good fun. He sometimes came to take a school assembly and would help with almost anything. Colin ran all the way to the main road and met Simon at the corner. He’d been visiting poor old Mrs Roberts who couldn’t get out of her wheelchair.
“Hi, Colin,” said Simon. “Where you off to?”
“To find you,” said Colin, breathing heavily because he had been running very fast. “Dad said I was to tell you… there’s a dog, and she’s ever so thin… I think she’s starving… and the house looks all shut up. Will and I were feeding her, but—”
“Who does this dog belong to?” asked Simon.
“Dad says she belongs to old Charlie,” said Colin. “Dad says you’d best call round.”
“Old Charlie?” said Simon. ‘I know him but he doesn’t like being called on. He’s never let me into the house… Well, let’s go and have a look.”
Colin and Simon climbed the steep lane and turned up the track. It was getting dark in the oak wood and Colin was glad he was not alone. It would soon be sunset but there were no lights in the cottage windows. They stood at the gate and whistled. The dog came rushing to them, whining and pushing her nose through the gate. When the vicar pushed it open she jumped up barking. But she knew Colin and when he got hold of her she quietened down and wagged her tail.
“Feel her ribs,” said Colin, stroking her gently.
The vicar knocked on the front door. There was no answer. He went round to the back. There was a pile of bricks against a rain barrel. The dog jumped up and started drinking.
“At least she’s had water,” said Simon.
He knocked at the back door. Then he tried to open the door but it was locked. He peered in through the windows. “I don’t think there’s anyone here,” he said. “Old Charlie must have gone away. I’d better phone the police and ask them to look into it. In the meantime…”
“I’ll look after her,” said Colin.
“Well, it would be best to take her home,” said Simon. “Would your mum and dad mind?”
“I don’t think so,” said Colin.
“Well, I’m sure we can sort her out in a day or two,” said the vicar. “She’ll just be a lodger.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Colin. “If anything’s happened to old Charlie, I’m keeping her.”
“Well, we’ll see,” smiled the vicar. “Take her home now and give her a good supper. Tell your dad I’ll look after old Charlie. Bye, Colin, and thanks.”
“Thanks a lot,” called Colin. He kept tight hold of the dog’s collar but she didn’t struggle. She seemed glad to follow her new master. They climbed the hill together. When they reached the top, the sun was setting. The farm and the barns stood black against a crimson sky. They reached the house and Colin pushed open the door. The dog walked straight into the big farm kitchen. She began poking her nose into cupboards and whining. The family’s cat arched her back, hissed and ran out into the yard.
“Oh, that’s the dog, is it? You know, I had a feeling you’d come back with her!” said Mum. “Did you find old Charlie?”
“No,” said Colin. “Simon came and he thinks the house is empty. He’s going to phone the police. He told me to bring the dog home, and if old Charlie’s gone away or something, I can keep her.”
“Keep her?” Mum looked doubtful. “We’ve already got a dog! I don’t know what your dad will say… Still, she’s here now and you’d best feed her.’
She found an old bowl. Colin opened a tin of dog food and threw in a handful of dog biscuits. The black dog trembled with excitement and wagged her tail furiously. She seemed to finish the meal in one great gulp and whined for more.
“That’s enough for now,” said Mum. “You’ve already fed her this afternoon. Give her some water and let her be.”
Colin sat down on the mat beside the dog. She laid her head on his lap and fell asleep. He stayed very still for a long time, stroking her. Then Dad came in for a drink and a cheese sandwich. Joy joined them, grumbling about her homework. But mostly they talked about old Charlie and the sleeping dog.
“Dad, if he’s gone away or dead or something, can I keep her?”
“That’s not fair,” said Joy. “She ought to belong to both of us. She’s smaller than Growler and much more friendly. I like her.”
But Colin shook his head. “If you want another dog, you get one for yourself,” he said. “This one’s mine… just mine.”
“Bedtime, Colin,” said Mum quickly, fearing an argument. “Mind you wash properly! And don’t be too sure about keeping the dog till we’ve found out about old Charlie. Anyhow, we haven’t said you can keep her, even if—”
“Oh, Dad, I can, can’t I?” cried Colin.
Dad’s mouth was full but he looked straight at Colin. Colin looked straight at Dad. Dad winked; Colin hugged him and went up to bed.
But not to sleep. Dad had to be up milking at half past four and he and Mum went to bed soon after Colin. Colin waited until he heard them come upstairs and shut their bedroom door. Joy was in her room, finishing her homework.
Colin crept downstairs on silent bare feet. The dog whined, lifted her head and pawed his knees. “You’re lonely in this strange place,” whispered Colin. “You can come and sleep with me tonight.”
When Mum went to wake Colin for school next morning, she nearly exploded with rage. Colin lay fast asleep with his head on the pillow. And, snuggled up against him with her head on the pillow, lay the dog.
Chapter three
When Colin came out of school next day, the vicar was waiting for him and walked down the road with him.
“Well?” said Simon. “What about that dog?”
“She’s fine. Dad says I can keep her. Well… he sort of said so. What about old Charlie?”
“We’ve found out about him. The police got in and found the house empty. But there was a letter from his sister in Ledbury and they phoned her. Charlie went on the bus to spend the day with her last Saturday. He was taken ill and rushed into hospital. He didn’t know anything till last night, but now he’s coming round. First thing he did was ask about the dog. I said not to worry, she was in good hands.”
“That’s right. But will old Charlie come home?”
“I doubt it. He’s had a stroke and his sister thinks he’ll have to stay in hospital. If he hears the dog’s in a good home, I think he’ll be glad to leave it at that.”
Colin stood still in the middle of the road and looked at the vicar. “Then she’s mine now?” he asked.
“Seems like it,” said the vicar.
“Then you tell old Charlie she’ll have a good home all right,” said Colin. “I’d best get back and see how she’s doing. Can I bring her to Wednesday group?”
“Er… I suppose so,” said the vicar rather doubtfully. “As long as they don’t all want to bring dogs. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Thanks,” said Colin and set off, very quickly, up the lane. He reache
d the farm very out of breath and met his dad going to the milking shed.
“She’s mine, Dad,” he puffed, “mine to keep.”
“Who is?”
“The dog! Old Charlie’s in hospital and probably not coming back. I can keep her. Oh Dad, I can keep her, can’t I?”
“Well, I suppose so. But she’s to sleep in the kitchen and that’s that. Understand? Your mum was very upset when she found her on your bed.”
Colin grinned, and ran to the house. The dog came, barking, to meet him. He flung his arms round her neck. “You’re mine! And I’m going to call you Friska,” he whispered. “I’ll let Joy take you out for a walk sometimes but you’re mine, mine, mine.”
But poor Joy didn’t get much of a chance to walk Friska. Friska would follow no one but Colin. The dog howled when Colin went to school and rushed down the lane to meet him when he came home. On Saturday he walked her far across the fields and woods and on Sunday he wanted to take her to church.
“The vicar wouldn’t mind,” said Colin. “She was ever so good at Wednesday group.”
“Don’t be silly, Colin,” said Mum. Friska whined and Joy started laughing. “You’ll have her in the music group with me next!” she said.
“Now come on, and stop fooling,” said Dad. They set off down the lane and when they reached the road, Joy began to run. She wanted to see her friends in the music group before the service began.
Everyone in the village liked the vicar and the church was nearly full for the family service. Colin usually enjoyed the first part – all the songs – but he and the other young people went off to their Bible classes then. So he did not often listen to the sermon. But today was different. Simon read a verse from the Bible twice through and then made the children say it after him. The vicar told them that this was what God said: “Don’t be afraid. I have rescued you. I have called you by name; now you belong to me.”
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