‘And I’ll call home,’ I said.
Luckily, Mum picked up straight away. ‘Mum. We’re over at the fields near the beach and Shimmer found Mr Pengilly. I think he might be dead! Caitlin’s calling nine-nine-nine, but what if they don’t get here in time?’
‘Slow down, Amy. Is he breathing?’ Mum asked. I could hear the alarm in her voice.
‘Caitlin, is he breathing?’ I asked.
She leaned over him. ‘Yes. I can see his chest moving.’
‘Where exactly are you?’ asked Mum.
I explained our location. ‘I think he might have fallen from his horse.’
‘Stay there. Don’t move him in case he’s hurt his neck. We’ll be there as soon as we can. I’ll call your dad now. Keep your phone on.’
‘Will do.’ I clicked my phone shut.
‘Mr Pengilly, can you move?’ asked Caitlin, but there was no response. She looked at me. ‘Do you think we should put him in the recovery position, on his side, like they showed us at school?’
I shook my head. ‘Mum said not to move him . . . Mr Pengilly, we’ve sent for help. Try and wake up if you can.’
Caitlin had gone white. ‘Amy, I’m scared.’
‘We have to stay calm,’ I said, though calm was the last thing I was feeling. ‘We don’t want to make things worse. Whoa, this is scary. What should we do?’
‘I think we should keep talking to him. Remember when we did first aid at school, they said to keep talking to whoever’s hurt. We have to try and get him to wake up and he could tell us where he’s hurt . . . Mr Pengilly, Mr Pengilly.’ She looked at me. ‘What do we talk to him about?’
‘I don’t know. Anything. Er . . . It’s hot isn’t it, Mr Pengilly? My dog Shimmer found you. She was sniffing around . . .’ I carried on, talking about nothing, stating the obvious.
It seemed a lifetime that we were waiting, then suddenly Shimmer started barking. We looked over to the other side of the field where we could see a girl on a horse had come into the field.
‘I think it’s Poppy,’ said Caitlin and she stood up and waved.
She came galloping over and slid off her horse. ‘Is it my dad?’ she asked and when she saw her father, ran over to him and knelt beside him. ‘Dad, please wake up!’ She started to cry. ‘What happened?’
‘We don’t know. I’ve called my mum,’ I said. ‘An ambulance is on its way. He is breathing, Poppy. Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon.’
Poppy looked like she was going to faint. ‘We’ve been looking for him everywhere all morning. His horse came back without him. I’ve been out looking for him for hours.’
‘Shimmer found him,’ I said.
Poppy took her dad’s hand, tears rolling down her face. ‘I’m here, Dad, I’m here!’
‘Do you want me to call your mum?’ asked Caitlin.
Poppy looked even more upset. ‘I don’t have a mum. She died when I was little. There’s only me and Dad.’
I felt so sorry for her. I put my arm around her and Caitlin took her other hand.
‘When did you call?’ she asked between sobs.
‘Twenty minutes ago, they won’t be . . .’ At that moment, I spotted Dad. He came running across the field and knelt beside Mr Pengilly. Moments later, we heard the whir of a helicopter approaching and everything seemed to go into fast forward.
The air ambulance landed on the opposite side of the field and men in green uniforms came running over with a stretcher. In no time, they’d lifted Mr Pengilly on to it as if he was as light as a feather. Dad offered to take Poppy’s horse back to her house so that she could go with her father, and then they were gone. The sound of the helicopter grew distant and the field was quiet again.
I noticed Shimmer was sitting at my side, leaning into me and looking at the horse with great suspicion.
I laughed. ‘She hasn’t seen a horse close up before, or a helicopter,’ I said. ‘She’s probably wondering what kind of creatures they are.’
Dad leaned over and ruffled Shimmer’s head. ‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Good girl.’
Shimmer wagged her tail, but she didn’t move. She wasn’t going near that horse.
A photo of Shimmer was on the front page of the paper the next day with the headline: SHIMMER THE WONDER DOG.
Shimmer, a young golden retriever, was responsible for saving a life yesterday when she alerted her owner that Mr Nicholas Pengilly was in trouble. Pengilly had fallen from his horse along Summer Lane and is in Compton Truit Infirmary, where he is said to be doing well. He said: ‘I have to thank Shimmer the dog for finding me, and her owner, Amy Westall, and friend, Caitlin O’Neill, for raising the alarm and staying with me until the air ambulance arrived. I might not have made it if it hadn’t been for them.’ The Westall family are newcomers to the area and have plans to open a farm shop, café and animal rescue centre. It appears that they rescue people as well as animals!
A letter from the council came a week later. Permissions to build and extend granted. Thank you, God, rain gods and the White Witch of Narnia. Plus Mr Pengilly, who I suspect had something to do with it as well.
Chapter Sixteen
Everybody Loves Shimmer
‘Shimmer!’
I’d been having a nice lie-in the morning after our good news, but Shimmer decided it was time for me to get up. Her way of letting me know that was to give my face a lick. Beats an alarm clock I guess. I snuggled down under the duvet in the hope that she’d get the message but she ran over to the door, scrabbled at it, then ran back to my bed and started pulling at the duvet.
‘Shimmer!’ I said again, but she only wagged her tail more once she could see that I was awake.
I got up, pulled on my dressing gown and was just about to go downstairs to give her some breakfast and get some juice when I heard Mum on the phone. She was saying something about Shimmer. I stopped at the top of the stairs and listened in.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘We’ve had a lot of enquiries . . .Yes, she really is the most remarkable dog and such a sweet nature . . . Yes, a Wonder Dog. Since the article in the paper, there’s been a lot of interest in her, but I regret to tell you that we’ve already found a home for her. Yes. Yes, I will add your name to the list in case they change their minds, but I have to warn you we’ve already got fifteen names on the list.’
I felt sick as I listened to the rest of the call. Neither Mum nor Dad had mentioned to me that there was a list of fifteen people nor, worst of all, that they’d found a home for Shimmer. When were they planning to tell me? Or were they just going to take her off one day when I was busy doing something else? Did they think I wouldn’t notice that my best friend in the world had gone?
I ran back into my room, threw myself on the bed and cried my eyes out. Shimmer came back in to see what was going on, putting her paw up to my face and giving me a lick. That made me cry even more. ‘I couldn’t imagine life without you, Shim,’ I said as I sat up, buried my face in her fur and sobbed some more.
After a short while, there was a knock on my door, then Mum and Dad came in.
‘We want to talk to you about Shimmer,’ said Dad.
I turned away towards the wall. ‘Go away.’
Mum came and sat on the end of the bed.‘Amy, have you been crying? Whatever’s the matter?’
I turned back to face them. ‘What do you think? I heard you on the phone? How could you!’
Dad looked confused. ‘How could we what?’ he asked.
‘I heard you, Mum. I heard you say that you’ve found a home for Shimmer and there’s a list of fifteen people waiting for her.’ I burst into tears again.
Dad came and sat on my other side. ‘Oh Amy, don’t cry, baby. We have found a home for Shimmer. That’s what we came up to tell you. This one! Silverbrook Farm. We couldn’t let her go now. She’s part of the family.’
I felt like I was in a dream. First such terrible news and now the best news ever. ‘Did you just say this one? Here? This is her home? Do you mean we’re keep
ing her forever?’
Mum gave me a squeeze. ‘Forever,’ she said.
Mum and Dad both grinned and Shimmer sensed something was going on. She jumped up on the bed with us and flopped over us, her tail wagging like mad. I gave her a big hug and burst into tears again, but this time through sheer joy. To have thought I might have had to let her go was unbearable – and now I was going to keep her forever. Even Mum and Dad had tears in their eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
The Grand Opening
Dear Diary,
Today is 20th December and the grand opening of the Silverbrook Farm shop, café and rescue centre. Natalia is here! Got to go, things to do, people to see, a dog, a cat, gerbils, a rabbit and a ferret to feed, make-up to put on. Deck the halls with Christmas holly, tra la la la lah, la la la lah.
‘Wow, your friend is organised,’ said Caitlin as she leaned out of my bedroom window and watched Natalia walk around the yard with her clipboard of lists. Natalia had been down to stay a few times in the summer already, and now she was running around putting all of her Silverbrook plans in motion. I think she’d move in with us if she could.
I laughed. ‘Natalia’s always been like that. Since we were little. Little Ms Bossy Boots.’ I looked up at the sky. ‘Hey, look, it’s starting to snow.’
Caitlin started singing ‘White Christmas’ at the top of her voice.
We were up in my room getting ready for the grand opening of the café, farm shop and rescue centre. It was nine in the morning and people would be arriving at two o’clock. Already there were teams of people over in the stable area getting everything ready.
In the last six months, it had felt like someone had pressed the fast forward button on the remote control of our lives. So much had happened. After Mr Pengilly’s rescue, the floodgates had opened in terms of local support. Plus Josh’s Facebook and Twitter pages had let people know that we were responsible animal carers. The Facebook page already had three thousand likes and the Twitter page had three and a half thousand followers and was growing daily. All sorts of people had come forward offering their skills – painters, decorators, plumbers . . . The phone had been busy from morning to night with people wanting either to work or sell their produce. Dad had a good list of people volunteering to act as foster homes for animals until the rescue centre was finished, and already there were two dogs and three cats waiting for their places at Silverbrook Farm. Mrs Carter-West had given Dad a very generous donation to help things along, so hopefully it wouldn’t be too long. I’d been for tea at her house a few times with Mum and met her gorgeous cuddly cats, both Persians. They’re so funny, like someone squashed their faces flat with a frying pan.
I put some tinsel around Shimmer’s collar and we went down to check on the animals in what was the beginning of the rescue centre. The building of the main wing was going to take a few months to complete, but one of the barns opposite the stables had been rebuilt, had a roof put on it and had heating and housing for small animals.
I left Shimmer outside for a minute, lifted the latch on the door and Caitlin and I went in.
‘Hi, Albus,’ I said to the white ferret, who was bouncing about in his cage. He was only three months old and was so energetic and playful.
Next along was Arthur the grey rabbit. He was very shy so Caitlin and I tiptoed past in case he got anxious and scurried to hide in the corner, as he often did when people were around. ‘Dad said in time he’ll grow more confident,’ I whispered to Caitlin, ‘we just have to be patient.’
Caitlin nodded and turned back. ‘Hi, Arthur,’ she whispered. ‘Hope we can be friends soon.’
Last were Dib and Dob, the ginger-and-white gerbils. As soon as they saw us, they both stood up on their back legs at the front of the cage. ‘Hello, cuties,’ said Caitlin. ‘They’re adorable!’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I wish we could keep them all, but we can’t – and someone’s coming for Dib and Dob tomorrow. They’re going to be someone’s Christmas present.’
‘Lucky someone,’ said Caitlin. ‘What about the other two?’
‘Josh wants to keep Albus. He’s grown very fond of him and I think Mum and Dad might let him as he’s only small and is so funny! Dad said that Arthur’s not ready to go anywhere yet. He wants him to feel safe first and get used to people. He’s small now because he’s only four months old, but he will grow very big, into a giant rabbit.’
Caitlin looked shocked. ‘Giant? Like proper giant?’
‘No, not totally enormous, but there is a breed of rabbits that are much bigger than normal ones.’
‘Cool,’ said Caitlin.
After making sure the little furry ones were OK, we went to join the others in the shop and café, and as we crossed the yard we saw that Dad was busy putting up bunting and fairy lights.
‘Isn’t the snow great?’ I said. ‘It will make everything more festive.’
He didn’t look as happy about it as I was. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘As long as it doesn’t stick.’
The farm shop looked fant-ab-ulous, to use Caitlin’s phrase. The builders had knocked four of the stables into one and it was now a vast space, with a high ceiling and wooden beams that twinkled with more fairy lights and bowers of ivy and fir. My art teacher, Mrs Rendall, had taken charge of the Christmas decorations and had done a brilliant job using anything she could find in the fields and people’s gardens: holly, ivy and whatever else she came across. The room smelled of fresh pine from the massive Christmas tree in the corner. It had been donated by one of the farmers and Mrs Rendall had covered it in hundreds of gold baubles and one wide long ribbon that she’d wound round from the top to the bottom. It looked very classy. Apart from the toy dog we’d insisted go on top instead a fairy. It was a white-gold puppy – and our personal tribute to Shimmer.
The counters were heaving with all the usual farm shop produce: eggs (some from our own hens), meat from local farms, fruit and veg from Mr O’Neill, but also mounds of gorgeous-looking cakes, biscuits, mince pies and puddings.
‘Yumbocious,’ said Caitlin as she surveyed the displays.
Next door to the shop was the café. The back wall had been knocked out completely and replaced with a huge window, giving a totally amazing view of the countryside beyond. Through it, we could see that the snow had begun to thicken and was sticking to the ground, making it look really pretty, and that was added to by the carols playing over the sound system. It couldn’t have looked more festive.
Mrs Watson was already behind the counter making mulled wine, and the scent of oranges, clove and cinnamon filled the air. Mum and Caitlin’s mum had Christmas jumpers on – Mum’s with a reindeer on the front and Mrs O’Neill’s with a penguin. All the staff were wearing Christmas hats, including Liam, and Robbie was dressed as an elf. Even Poppy had made an effort. Since the accident, she’d been much nicer to us and had come up to Silverbrook a few times to help out. She clearly loved animals, especially Shimmer. She was dressed in a gorgeous red velvet dress and was wearing a tiara of red tinsel. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a fairy story – still a princess, but one I was warming to.
Mum pulled out a camera and asked Caitlin, Poppy, Natalia, Shimmer and me to pose in front of the tree. We put our arms around each other and stood together smiling at the camera. ‘The Silverbrook Girls,’ said Mum with a grin. I beckoned Robbie, Josh and Liam to come for a photo too. ‘Can’t leave the boys out,’ I said.
‘Come and look at the cakes,’ said Robbie, after Mum had taken the shot. He pulled me over to the display. He had a smudge of chocolate by his mouth so I suspected that he’d already been helping himself to them. He and Liam had been up to Silverbrook every Saturday since Robbie had taken Shimmer. After a few weeks, Dad had told them that it wasn’t necessary and that they’d ‘served their time’. But they both kept coming back. Liam said it was because he needed to keep an eye on his brother, but I suspected he liked it here as much as Robbie did. There was to be a prize for the best cake and the village
rs had amazed us. The display was mouthwatering – passion fruit, carrot, chocolate logs, Victoria sponges, lemon drizzle, even a yummy-looking Turkish delight cake, as well as the usual Christmas cakes and plates of mince pies.
On another counter there were salads of every variety and plates of sandwiches: egg mayonnaise, coronation chicken, tuna, cheese – enough to feed an army, which was fitting because we were expecting hundreds of people. Natalia had put herself in charge of marketing and got a double-page spread in the local paper, an interview on the radio, as well as posters all over the village and on Josh’s Silverbrook Facebook and Twitter pages.
‘What time does Tyrrel Turner arrive?’ asked Caitlin.
‘About one-thirty,’ said Natalia. She’d managed to get hold of him through his agent and had written to him telling him about the project. He had phoned and said he’d love to help out in any way he could. That girl really had a flair for making things happen.
‘Mum’s put a ribbon across the lane and when everyone’s ready to come in, he’s going to cut it and declare the shop, café and rescue centre officially open,’ I added.
Caitlin and I got stuck in helping out where we could and at one o’clock Dad came into the café with a worried look on his face.
‘Problem,’ he said. ‘Mike’s just been to the village. The roads are covered in knee-deep snow. He had to abandon his car and walk the last bit.’
Mum’s face fell. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. This can’t be happening.’
As news of the roads spread, the mood in the shop changed and the air of excited anticipation was replaced with one of disappointment. What if no one could get here? I felt so frustrated – after all the setbacks we’d been through, we were going to be let down by the flipping weather!
‘People could put their wellies on and walk,’ I suggested.
Dad shook his head. ‘Not the elderly. They won’t come out if the roads are hazardous for driving or walking, nor will parents with kids.’
‘But we’ve got Santa’s grotto set up in the shop,’ I said. It was supposed to be a surprise for the youngest villagers.
A Home for Shimmer Page 11