A Home for Shimmer (10 page)

‘So what do you think?’ I asked. ‘What did we do wrong?’

‘You leafleted the area, you say?’

I nodded. ‘Most of it.’

‘Is there a posh area?’

‘Yes. There are some houses down by the coast but I don’t think we could get in, they have electronic gates or long driveways.’

‘They still get post, so will have letterboxes,’ said Natalia. ‘Try again but this time, try and organise something less boring. And always check what else is happening on the day of your event, like a football match or something else going on in the area. That’s rule number one. And you have to attract people in. Hold a party. A concert. Something to make them want to come. Do you have any celebrities in the area? Sports celebrities or rock stars? Actors?’

‘Oh. Don’t know.’

‘I’ll try and find out for you. I bet there are. They buy country homes. I’ve read it in
Hello
magazine. Or . . . hold on, brain’s in gear now, on a roll. How about you have a themed event? Everyone dresses up as an animal? Or vegetable.’

‘No way am I going to dress up as a bit of broccoli, not even for a greater cause.’

‘Fun, Amy,’ said Natalia. ‘You have to make it fun. A time for people to remember. A sad night out at the village hall with tea and biscuits is hardly going to stay in anyone’s mind for long. You have to make an impression. Get people talking. Get creative, Silverbrook Girl.’

Two weeks later, I was back at the village hall dressed as a chicken. Cluck cluck. It was hard to adopt a go-getting attitude while wearing flat rubber chicken feet, a plastic beak stuck to my head and big feather trousers that made my bottom look
enormous
.

Everyone looked hilarious. After my Skype call with Natalia, we all took on board what she’d said and decided to go for the animal theme because it seemed in keeping with what we were trying to do. I’d been so worried that la famille Westall was going to spiral back into the Temple of Doom. But no. We’d been there, done that and everyone was up for moving on and trying again.

There was no fancy dress shop in our area, so we were limited to what we could buy on the internet. That didn’t stop us. We ordered costumes and they arrived in the post. Mum was dressed as a scary rabbit with big teeth and hands with claws. Josh was a dog. Mr O’Neill was a bull and Mrs O’Neill came dressed as a sweet white bunny. She is the spitting image of Caitlin, only older and chubbier. She looked very pretty in her outfit. Her and Mum made a funny-looking pair, good bunny and bad bunny. Zack was a shark and Joe a turtle. Not to leave Shimmer out, I’d put a pair of deer’s antlers on her. She looked so cute. Caitlin was a tigress in a skin-tight outfit which she wore with high black boots. She looked amazing, and even Josh gave her a second look when she came in. Dad was dressed as a gorilla even though we’d told him that you don’t often find gorillas – or tigers, in Caitlin’s case – in Somerset and the chance of anyone bringing them to our rescue centre was unlikely. But they were the only costumes. It didn’t matter, though – dressing up put everyone in a really good mood.

Mum and Mrs O’Neill had become friends in the last few weeks and had bonded over baking. They’d spent hours making cakes and jam to show what sorts of things the shop could sell. Mum was so excited at the idea of running her own shop and seemed to love making things that could go in it. She was good at it too. Her carrot cake with lemon icing and date and walnut cakes were amazing. Her enthusiasm for cooking seemed to have won Mrs Watson round, and she wasn’t treating us so much like ‘the outsiders’ any more. Even she had made an effort for today and was wearing a Winnie the Pooh hat over her white hair.

We’d hired the hall for the day and had been there since early morning. We decorated with balloons and anything we could find to make it look more partylike. Mrs O’Neill had brought a plastic blow-up palm tree from when they had a jungle themed party for Joe’s last birthday. Caitlin and I brought all our old soft toys and lined them up at the front of the stage. We had teddies, rabbits, monkeys, a polar bear, Mickey Mouse and a few Little Ponies from when I was really little. I was glad I hadn’t thrown them away when I’d grown out of them. It was like seeing old friends up there on the stage. Dad brought all our Christmas lights and hung them from the corners of the hall. It all looked a bit mad seeing it was May and a sunny day outside, but it was colourful and made the hall look like a special occasion was going to take place.

At the back, Mr O’Neill had set out baskets of his products from his paddocks. I gave him the thumbs up.

‘I like your costume,’ he said.

‘Cluck, cluck,’ I replied and did a wiggle. ‘Everyone’s going to be wearing outfits like this soon. I’m a trendsetter don’t you know?’

‘I’m sure it will catch on,’ he said with a perfectly straight face.

Josh had done some new leaflets with the help of Natalia on the other end of the computer.

They said:

We’d leafleted the area again last weekend, including the part near the coast with the posh-looking houses. I found it intimidating going up to some of them, especially the Tudor mansion, where we saw Poppy Pengilly. She gave us a funny look when she saw us, but I did my best to ignore it and smiled at her. I loved the way she dressed in riders’ gear – a fitted jacket, jodhpurs and high leather boots. She was clearly a horsey person. That was a good sign.

We shoved Josh forward to give her a leaflet and it appeared he worked his usual charm because she took one and chatted to him for a while. Her dad came out to ask who we were and Poppy gave him the leaflet, which he didn’t even look at. He just shoved it in his pocket and politely showed us back to the gate.

‘Her name’s Poppy,’ said Josh when we got outside the grounds. ‘Poppy Pengilly.’ He seemed slightly awestruck.

‘We know,’ I said. ‘She goes to our school.’

‘Her crowd are very snooty,’ said Caitlin. I think she was jealous.

Sadly we couldn’t find any celebrities in the area, although there was a rumour that the soap actor Tyrrel Turner lived somewhere around. No one knew exactly where, but Natalia said she’d try and find out.

At two-twenty-five, I looped Shimmer’s lead around a chair so that she didn’t go mad when people arrived, then we plugged Josh’s iPod into the sound system. Josh had made a special playlist of all the songs he could find about animals from songs from
Jungle Book
, and
Dr Doolittle
to ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ and ‘Crocodile Rock’.

Caitlin was on door duty to let people in and, as soon as she opened them, people began to stream in. Parents came with children dressed as penguins, zebras, kangaroos, monsters, elephants, whales, deer and one cute little hamster. It appeared that everyone welcomed a chance to dress up in Compton Truit.

The atmosphere was so different to our first meeting in the hall and was soon buzzing as people laughed at each other’s costumes and got chatting, some people even danced along to the music. Mum and Mrs O’Neill ran out of cakes after an hour and were doing a roaring trade on their homemade chutneys. Mrs Watson was busy making teas and Mr O’Neill’s fruit and veg were disappearing fast too.

I nudged Caitlin to look over at Shimmer, who was sitting by her chair, her tail wagging happily as a boy with sandy hair and a sweet face made a fuss of her. He wasn’t the first. She’d been having a great afternoon as the centre of attention – as soon as anyone saw her, they’d go over to give her a stroke. She’d sat there loving it all. The boy who was with her was dressed as a chimp and was joined by another boy who wasn’t in costume and was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans. I recognised him straight away. It was Liam, the boy we’d met by the river. He and the younger boy looked like brothers, although Liam had a sullen look about him as if he didn’t want to be in the hall at all. I wondered why he’d come, then I saw Mrs Watson call them over.

‘They might be her nephews,’ I said. ‘I heard her talking about them one day in the tea shop. I think the younger one is about ten and is called Robbie.’

‘It’s a shame Liam is so grumpy,’ said Caitlin, ‘he looks like he’s eaten a wasp.’

Caitlin giggled as Liam glanced over at us and I smiled. He didn’t smile back so I looked away to show I didn’t care. I didn’t. I could see a couple of elderly ladies talking to Mum so I went to eavesdrop.

‘I think it would be marvellous if you set up your centre,’ said one of the ladies who was very well-spoken and dressed in a smart lavender-coloured suit and pearls. ‘I worry what will become of my cats if anything happens to me. I’m almost ninety you know. I can’t live forever and I have no family left to step in and give them a home.’

Mum assured her that her cats would be well looked after if she had anything to do with it, then went and got chairs for both ladies and gave them a free piece of cake and cup of tea.

‘Maybe you’d like to come and visit one day,’ said the well-spoken lady. ‘You could meet my cats, Millie and Myrtle. They’re darlings.’

‘I’d love to,’ said Mum and the old lady got out a notepad from her handbag and gave Mum her address. It sounded very grand. She was Mrs Carter-West of Lymington House.

On the far side of the hall, I saw that Poppy Pengilly had come in with her father. They weren’t dressed up as animals and walked around like they were royalty, looking down their noses at everything and everybody. Poppy pointed to the plastic palm tree, said something to her dad that I couldn’t hear and they both laughed.
Stuck up princess
, I thought. I saw them nod hello to Mrs Carter-West then go to look at the vegetable stalls. I also noticed Liam scowling at them as they walked around. They didn’t buy anything and didn’t stay long.

After they’d gone, I saw a man talking to Dad then he got out a recording device. I waddled over (it was hard to walk properly in my rubber feet) to hear what was going on. He was from the local radio station.
Excellent
, I thought as Dad filled him in. Mum had contacted them with an invitation the week before but we hadn’t heard back, so weren’t sure that they’d come. She’d also contacted the local paper, but I didn’t know if they’d turned up, though it was hard to tell who was who because some of the adults were in costume and others busy with their kids. Caitlin was leading a small group of under-fives in a rousing chorus of ‘Old MacWestall’s Farm’. She’d finally got to do it. I giggled at how out of place she looked as a tiger, but when she sang, ‘Old MacWestall had a tiger, ee i ee i o,’ they all joined in with gusto.

Around three-thirty, Mum went up on to the stage and called for everyone’s attention. When the hall was silent, she began to explain what we wanted to do at Silverbrook Farm. She was still dressed in her scary bunny costume.

‘Do you think people will take her seriously?’ I asked Caitlin. ‘Maybe she should have changed back into her businesswoman clothes.’

Caitlin shook her head. ‘Nah. People love it. Look, everyone’s listening and the outfit lets them know that she’s a fun person and up for whatever it takes to make things work.’

‘It will take us a while to get up and running,’ Mum was saying, ‘but we hope that we’ll be a welcome addition to the community here in Compton Truit. We want to sell only local produce in the shop and café so we will be looking for suppliers of meat, bread, fruit, homemade cakes, jams, juice – whatever you think you or a neighbour could make and we could sell – we could put local artists’ paintings on the wall . . . we’re open to all ideas. And hopefully the rest of you will come and use the café and shop. We’ll also be looking for volunteers when we have the rescue centre set up. If you have any skills that you think might be helpful, please make yourself known to us and leave your details.’

‘How long do you think it will take to get set up?’ asked one man, who was with a little boy dressed as a zebra.

‘Good question,’ Mum replied. ‘That all depends on the response from the community. We hope to have the shop and café going first and, once they’re open, we can put our energy into establishing the rescue centre. But all in all, we want to create a place that will provide employment for some, a place to meet for others, somewhere for visitors to come and see the best that the village has to offer.’

When she’d finished, people cheered. I felt so proud of her even if she did look like she’d just walked off the set of a scary cartoon.

When everyone had gone, we totted up the profits. We’d made two hundred and forty-three pounds.

‘OK, so not thousands,’ said Dad, ‘but today wasn’t about raising lots of money. It was about raising interest – and I think we accomplished that. I already have a list of people who would like to make things to sell at the shop. Everyone is very enthusiastic. One farmer said he could supply meat and would speak to other farmers in the area. Most people said that they’d spread the word – I think today has been a real success!’

It was then that I noticed that Shimmer wasn’t around. ‘Shimmer . . . Dad, where’s Shimmer?’

Everyone looked around, but there was no sign of her.

‘When did you last see her?’ asked Mum.

‘Not long ago. She was here a moment ago. I’m sure she was! Maybe she’s in one of the back rooms, you know how she loves sniffing around new areas,’ I said and raced off to search the hall, my heart thumping in my chest.

Everyone started searching the building, calling her name, but she didn’t come.

I felt a rising panic. I couldn’t bear it if anything had happened to her.

Caitlin came and put her arm around me. ‘She must have wandered out when people left. She can’t be far.’