Labradoodle on the Loose (12 page)

‘I'll just wait and see her face when she realises it's her party all over again,' said Dad.

‘What shall we do when she comes?' said Fifty.

‘Say
Happy Birthday
,' said Jonno.

‘Say
Surprise!
' said Fifty's mum.

‘Hide in the Tribehouse and shout
Boo!
when she opens
the door.' That was my suggestion.

‘But she'll see the decorations,' said Jonno.

‘And the rug,' said Dad.

‘And the grub,' said Copper Pie.

‘Same,' said Fifty. He looked at his watch. ‘She's late.'

I looked at Jonno. ‘You told her five o'clock, didn't you?'

Jonno looked behind him as though I was talking to someone standing on his heels. He looked back at me. ‘I didn't tell Bee anything,' he said. ‘I thought you . . .' He didn't bother finishing the sentence. He hadn't told her. And he could tell from my face that I hadn't either, and so could everyone else.
Just great!

‘Who's going to call her?' said Jonno.

‘I will,' said Fifty. He held his phone to his ear for a while. ‘No answer.'

‘Try again,' said Copper Pie. He tried again. I tried too.

‘Try her home phone,' said Fifty's mum. We waited in complete silence.

‘Hello, it's Fifty. Is Bee there?' There was a pause. I assumed whoever had answered the phone had gone to get Bee.

‘Oh, right. I understand. Yes. Sorry.' We all stared at Fifty waiting to hear what
Oh, right, I understand, Yes, Sorry
, meant.

‘Bee's in her room,' he said. He looked worried. ‘She told her mum that she texted all of us and no one texted back so she doesn't want to see us.'

Fifty's face looked how I felt. Bee first party was ruined,
and now she thought we were all ignoring her, so she was missing her surprise party.
If only I'd answered her text
, I thought. I bet I wasn't the only one thinking that.

‘Ring her back,' said Fifty's mum. ‘Explain what happened. Tell her about the surprise if you have to.'

‘You do it, Jonno,' said Fifty.

‘OK.' Jonno got his phone out. He walked down the garden into the wilderness bit. We all wanted to hear but he obviously didn't want us to listen. I didn't blame him. I'm useless on the phone – although not as bad as Copper Pie who doesn't seem to know when it's his turn to talk. Jonno turned back round to face us almost straight away.

‘She won't speak to me,' he said. ‘Bee's mum says she won't open her bedroom door.'

It was a crisis. We'd tried to make things better but, because me and Jonno had got confused about who was telling her, we'd made things worse.

‘What shall we do?' Fifty asked his mum.

‘Shall I have a word with Bee's mum?' We all nodded. Even Dad. ‘Back in a tick,' she said. She scooped up Rose, marched up the garden and disappeared into the kitchen. We all waited. The Tribehouse looked like it was waiting too. And if she didn't come, the fruit would rot and the flowers would droop and the rain would wash away the photo and the tinsel would lose its shine and its fringy bits and the flags would fade. It would be like Cinderella at midnight, just ordinary again.

I sat on the ground with my head on my knees.

Nothing happened for ages. No one spoke. Fifty's mum didn't reappear. Bee didn't appear. There was no lightning or thunder, no eclipse of the sun, no meteor, no rainbow, no mass migrations of geese or invasion of flying ants. I decided to hold my breath for a while.
Maybe if I could hold it in long enough something would happen
, I thought. That was a dangerous thought because I used to hold my breath when I was younger and end up going blue and fainting. I didn't do it on purpose – it just happened when I was scared or had a shock. Amy said I did it to get my own way but that wasn't true. Anyway, I had a go . . . but I didn't last long. I didn't seem to be able to stop my body from taking a breath – it did it on its own. I tried a few times but I kept taking a breath without meaning to.

‘What are you doing?' said Fifty eventually. Trying not to breathe didn't seem like a good answer so I gave him my best blank look.

‘You keep gasping,' said Copper Pie.

‘Can't you breathe properly?' said Dad.

‘I'm fine,' I said.
Time to stop the breath-holding attempts
.

‘Do you think she'll come?' said Jonno.

I don't know
, I thought.
But I hope so
.

‘Don't know,' said Copper Pie.

‘Hope so,' said Fifty. They were stealing my thoughts again.

‘We should do what your mum says,' said Jonno, looking at Fifty. ‘The visualising thing.' It's one of Fifty's mum's tricks to help people give up smoking, or be happier, or get thinner. It's her job.

‘OK. Let's do it,' he said.

Dad looked completely confused so Fifty explained.

‘Let's do it anyway,' said Dad. ‘It's better than waiting. And I'd like to have a go. I might introduce visualisation into our monthly sales meetings. Get everyone imagining the biggest deal ever.'

‘Just don't tell Mum,' I said. ‘She thinks it's barmy.' As soon as I said that I realised I shouldn't have. I didn't mean to blurt out what Mum thinks about Fifty's mum's flower potions and all the other therapies she uses. My mum likes
Fifty's mum, but she's a doctor and doctors don't believe in rose-flavour treatments or visualising. They think it's witchcraft.

Dad saved me. ‘Your mum thinks a lot of things are barmy, including me. But remember, she doesn't understand everything – she can't catch a wave, can she?' Everyone laughed, even Fifty. My mum on a surfboard wasn't something you could easily visualise.

‘Come on, then,' said Jonno.

‘OK. Everyone shut your eyes,' said Dad. I shut my eyes and lay back on the grass. ‘Imagine you're in Fifty's garden, waiting for Bee.'

‘But we are,' said Copper Pie.

‘Shut up,' said Fifty. ‘You have to go along with it.'

Copper Pie shut up.

Dad carried on. ‘It's warm and sunny, and you're waiting for Bee to come to her surprise party. Picture the garden. The food's ready, and there are drinks and a cake. Picture the food. Picture the cake. Picture the —'

Fifty interrupted. ‘Shall I take over?' Dad was obviously no good.

‘OK. I'll listen and learn.'

‘Get comfortable everyone.'

I already was, sun on my face, eyelids as heavy as if a hot water bottle was pressing on them. Fifty started off using a quiet, dreamy voice. He didn't tell us to picture anything, or if he did, I didn't notice. He took us all the way through
from wondering whether Bee would come, to hearing a rustle by the Tribe flap, to her happy face when she saw the decorated hut. We ate the food and drank blackcurrant. It was time for the cake. ‘
Happy Birthday to you
.' We bashed the piñata and scrambled about for the sweets. It was like a really nice dream . . .

Something touched my face. I sat up really quickly and opened my eyes. The sun was far too bright. I closed my lids and made two small slits so I could focus. Fifty's face was a millimetre from mine. And he was laughing. And so were other people. I wiped my mouth. My chin was wet. I knew what that meant – I'd been dribbling in my sleep.
Great! More teasing
.

‘Wakey, wakey,' said Fifty.

‘You're just in time,' said Dad.
Just in time for what?
The last thing I remembered was chasing round the garden to get the sweets from the piñata.

‘They should be here any second,' said Fifty's mum from behind me somewhere.
Who should be here any second?
I had lots of questions but I didn't want to ask them because I
knew I'd sound even more stupid than I felt.

‘Keener, night, night,' said Probably Rose.

‘Clever girl,' said Fifty.

‘Isn't she?' said Fifty's mum, smiling at Rose.

‘Her talking's really coming on,' said Dad. I was grateful for the chat about Rose. I needed to work out what was real and what was dream, and fast. I glanced up at the Tribehouse – the star piñata was still hanging, un-whacked. That was a clue. I scanned the bodies: Fifty, Fifty's mum, Probably Rose, my dad, Copper Pie, Jonno. There was still no Bee. Another clue.

‘Mum, what time was it when you said they were on their way?' Fifty asked. My ears pricked up. Another clue – but who were
they
? Bee wasn't
they
. Bee was
she
. I worked it out quite quickly considering the clever half of my brain was still somewhere else – someone was bringing Bee over.

The doorbell rang.

‘Well, go on,' said Fifty's mum. Fifty ran up the garden and let the kitchen door slam. There was a pause before we heard voices – man voices. Fifty appeared, followed by a tall body with its face in shadow – it was Patrick or maybe Louis. Followed by Louis, or maybe Patrick. That wasn't what I was expecting.

‘Hello,' shouted Fifty's mum.

‘Hi,' said one twin and then the other.

‘Hello, everyone,' said Bee's mum, who was carrying a big oval plate. Bee's dad was there too. I waited for the next
person to come through the doorway, which was bound to be Bee. Except there was no other person.
Had they come to tell us Bee hated us? Had Bee sent them over to say we weren't friends any more?
If only I'd stayed awake I'd have known what was going on.

‘What's going on?' I said to no one in particular.

‘You've been abducted by aliens,' said Fifty. ‘They've stolen the bodies of people you know to lure you into their world. The alien eel they placed on your earlobe is boring its way into your brain slowly taking over all your thoughts. Soon you won't know who you are, or were. You will be theirs.' Fifty is quite keen on making up ridiculous stuff. It's quite annoying.

‘Anyone normal going to fill me in?'

Jonno did. ‘Fifty's mum told Bee's mum all about the party. Bee's mum said she'd think of a way to get Bee round here without ruining the surprise.'

‘And then we cooked up a plan,' said Fifty's mum, clearly excited. ‘As soon as Bee left the house to walk round here —'

‘We got in the motor and here we are,' said Bee's dad, finishing off the tale.

OK, I'd got it. It was still a surprise, but a bigger one: Tribers, Probably Rose, Fifty's mum, my dad, Bee's brothers, Bee's mum and dad. Cool!

We heard footsteps and dogsteps coming along the path. We heard them stop. Doodle's head came through the Tribe catflap first. He barked. Bee's head followed and then stopped, half in, half out. She stayed half in, half out.

‘Get in here, Bee,' said Jonno. ‘We've been working all day and waiting all evening.'

That did it. She shuffled forwards. When she was upright we all cheered. Her face went Keener's-face colour – most unusual for cool-as-a-cucumber Bee.

‘Happy Birthday, Bee,' said Fifty's mum above the polka music or whatever it was. There was some random birthday-greetings shouting and then it was party time. It was like my dream, but better. We all sat round the rug and ate sandwiches, crisps, pork pies, vol-au-vents (Jonno said
that's what the pastry things were) and antipasto (Bee's mum's platter of meat and cheese and olives). The twins were funny, just like they were at Bee's first birthday party, before the friends, the noise and the police. (And they apologised about Teapot, Rasher, Bodger and Slim.) You could tell Bee – the most important person – was really, really happy. There was no lost dog, her family were all together and not rowing, she wasn't in the middle of a crisis, she was just having a good time with her family and her mates – chatting and laughing and being bossy.

‘Time to smack the star,' said Dad. We all jumped up, ready to whack the piñata as hard as possible. The stick was a bit bendy but after a few goes we got the idea, but we couldn't crack the clay. We whipped the star, but it would not give us the sweets. Dad had a go. Bee's dad had a go. Patrick had a go, and nearly decapitated his mum. Louis had a go, and nearly decapitated himself. No way was that clay pot going to break. Until Copper Pie decided it was time to stop messing. He did the most enormous swing, and chucked the stick plus himself at the star. It gave a little. You couldn't call it a crack, but there was a seam across the middle of the star.