Cathy Hopkins - [Mates, Dates 04] (7 page)

I was finding it
excruciatingly difficult. I wanted all of them. Every ward we went into, the
dogs would perk up and start wagging their tails as though Dad and I were their
best and oldest friends. So pleased to see us. It was like they were saying,
‘Oh
there
you are, hold on a mo, I’ll just get my stuff and we can
go.’ Then, as we walked past their cages, their faces would fall and their
tails would go down as if thinking, ‘Come back. Hey, where are you going? I
thought we were outta here?’

‘Can’t we hire a
coach, Dad, and come back with it and say right, everyone in? And then go and
buy a big house in the country…’

‘I wish,’ said Dad.
‘But, sadly, we can only have one. Have you made up your mind?’

I shook my head. I’d
fallen in love with about six of them. Woodie and the Samoyed and Kiki the old
collie, a mongrel that looked like an old teddy, a beautiful black Alsatian and
a cheeky Jack Russell.

Some had to be
overlooked as it said clearly on their report that they could be destructive
and didn’t like children, even teens. Others, I knew, were too big like the
Alsatian. Arm-wrestling champion that I am, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep
him on a lead.

It was then that I
turned a corner and saw Mojo. He was sitting quietly in his room, a
medium-sized black dog with a white patch over one eye. He gazed up at us with
the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. You look how I felt last night, I thought.
Sad, lonely and badly in need of a friend. ‘Mojo is four years old and a
stray,’ said his report. ‘He has a very gentle nature and likes people. He is
very distressed at finding himself here and would like a good home as soon as
possible.’

Mojo looked up at me
with hopeful eyes.

I glanced over at Dad.

‘He’s The One, isn’t
he?’ said Dad.

I nodded.

Dad and I didn’t stop
talking all the way home. He told me all about how he had wanted to be a vet,
but didn’t think he could cope with having to put people’s pets down as you
sometimes had to do.

We even talked about
Paul.

‘At least this fella
won’t get on a plane and leave us,’ said Dad, looking at Mojo who was sitting
happily in the back, looking out of the window. ‘Unlike some people I could
mention.’

‘Paul, you mean?’

Dad nodded. ‘I hope
he’s all right, wherever he’s got to. He may be grown-up, but you never stop
worrying. And I know you and Mum think I go on but I know my own son and he can
be naive at the best of times. Even as a young lad, he was a dreamer, too
trusting of people… You have to have your wits about you when you’re
travelling.’

‘He’ll be OK,’ I said.
‘He’s with Saskia.’

‘Hmmmph,’ said Dad.
‘And she’s as daft as he is. Still, I guess he’s not alone.You’re right.’

I was glad it had been
Dad who’d come with me to the Home. I felt I’d got to know him better. And
discovered he was missing Paul as much as I was.

When we got home, Mojo
ran around sniffing everything. Tail wagging happily, he seemed more than
pleased when Dad opened the French doors to the garden. He ran out and sniffed
the air as if he couldn’t get enough of it.

‘I think he likes it
here,’ said Mum, watching him from the kitchen. As he ran about familiarising
himself with the smells, the phone rang.

‘Oh, that will be
someone called Lucy again. She’s phoned a few times since I’ve been back and so
has someone called Nesta.’

I went to answer the
call. Mum was right. It was Lucy.

‘About Nesta last
night,’ she said. ‘She really didn’t mean to upset you. What she meant to say
was that with your potential you could look totally amazing. She wasn’t saying
you looked awful or anything.’

I’d forgotten all
about the incident the night before. And it didn’t seem so bad in the light of
a new day.

‘I suppose I
was
being a bit over-sensitive,’ I admitted. ‘Overreacted a bit.’

‘We all have days like
that,’ said Lucy. ‘Like my mum says, only the wearer of the shoe knows where it
rubs. You know, sometimes we don’t know where each other’s sensitive spots are
and tread on them by mistake. Nesta treads on people’s sensitive spots with
hobnailed boots on. But she doesn’t mean to. We all want to be friends. Honest.
We all agreed. That’s why Nesta came to sit next to you at Sam’s talk the other
afternoon.’

‘Really? I thought
that was just coincidence.’

‘No. It was so you had
someone to sit with.’

‘Really?’

We chatted on for
about ten minutes and I told her my news about Mojo. She wants to come over on
Monday to meet him.

After I put the phone
down, I had plenty to think about. It looked like I had misjudged the whole
situation and I decided I should give Nesta another chance. I watched Mojo as
he ran about. He looked a different dog already. His tail was wagging madly,
his tongue out.

Mum had her radio on
in the kitchen and an old song was blasting out. How true, I thought, as I
listened to the lyrics. ‘What a difference a day makes, twenty-four little
hours…’

We’re all going to be
good friends, I thought, going out into the garden to Mojo and doing what I’d
wanted to do ever since I’d set eyes on him.

I gave him a big hug.

C h a p t e r
 
7

Dog
of the Week

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Our class was in a mad
mood the next week at school. I think the heatwave had affected everyone’s
brain.

It started in science,
when Mr Dixon asked if anyone knew the formula for water.

Gabby Jones put her
hand up. ‘HIJKLMNO,’ she said proudly.

‘Er, can you tell me
why?’ he asked.

‘Yesterday, sir,’ said
Gabby, ‘you said H to O was the formula for water.’

‘H
₂
O,’ he
sighed, then wrote on the board.‘H
₂
as in the
number
O. OK,
last question about water. What can we do to save water in a water shortage?’

‘Put less in the
kettle sir,’ said Lucy.

‘Excellent. Anyone
else?’

‘Don’t use the
hosepipe,’ I said.

‘Another good one. Any
others to help our water supply go further?’

Jade Wilcocks’ hand
shot up. ‘Dilute it, sir,’ she said. Mr Dixon shook his head but I could see he
was trying not to laugh.

Then it was into the
school hall for a film about the cosmos and all the planets and stars.
Afterwards, Miss Watkins asked us questions to see if we’d been paying
attention as I think some girls used the hour in the dark as an excuse to have
a kip.

‘What is a comet?’
asked Miss Watkins.

I knew the answer to
this and put my hand up.

‘Star with a tail,
miss.’

‘Correct. And can
anyone name one?’

Candice Carter, who
was one of those I saw nodding off, stuck her hand up. ‘Mickey Mouse, miss,’
she said, as everyone cracked up.

But the best was in RE.
Again, it was poor .Miss Watkins taking the class and she asked if anyone knew
what God’s name was.

This time it was Mo
Harrison who put her hand up.

‘Andy, miss.’

‘Andy? Why on earth
would Andy be the name of God?’

‘It’s in all the
hymns, miss,’ said Mo. ‘Andy walks with me. Andy talks with me… There are loads
of examples.’

‘No, Mo,’ Miss Watkins
said, turning to Nesta who was crying with laughter. ‘Nesta Williams, seeing as
you clearly find it so funny. What do
you
think the name of God might
be?’

‘Er, not sure,’ said
Nesta, looking caught out. ‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t think,’ said
Miss Watkins.‘I
know
!

‘I don’t think I know
either,’ giggled Nesta.

The whole class got
detention but it was worth it. I felt like I’d spent the whole morning laughing
my head off.

We never did get to
know what God’s name was.

‘How are you getting
on with the mag?’ asked Izzie as we sat doing our lines in detention in the
lunch break.

‘So-so. I’ve got some
ideas, but need to get them down on paper,’ I replied.

‘Come over to ours at
the weekend,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m sure Steve would like to see you again and he can
help. And so could me and Izzie and Nesta.’