Puppy Pie (2 page)

Just then, Jake adds some hot ginger biscuits to the table. Gull's eyes follow them and her mouth begins to water.

Lucy laughs. ‘At least you won't starve while you're staying with us,' she says, giving Jake a playful shove. ‘With Jake around, it's a wonder we're not all rolypoly.'

‘That reminds me,' Jake says. ‘I can make a jam roll for tomorrow.'

‘Speaking of jam,' Tom grins. ‘Before we eat, come out to the big shed and I'll show you our latest jam.' He winks at his siblings and they start giggling.

Gull frowns.
Jam doesn't sound very interesting,
she thinks. ‘I thought I might be able to gather the eggs or feed the horses. Or, maybe,' she says wistfully, ‘if there were some puppies… '

Her cousins groan. ‘Plenty of time for that,' Lucy says matter-of-factly. ‘Jam first,' she sings out as she dashes out of the kitchen, away from the tempting food, followed closely by Gull and Tom, with Jake following behind.

Just then, the cowbell at the front door of the two hundred year old farmhouse rings furiously. The four of them stop their race towards the big shed and race back inside.

‘Your turn,' Tom says grinning at Gull.

‘To do what?' she asks.

‘To open the door,' Tom smirks.

She hesitates.

‘Go on,' Jake says encouragingly.

‘But I don't know anybody here,' Gull says.

‘You don't have to,' Tom says giving her a slight push towards the front door.

‘Pie time,' Jake says and grins at Gull.

Gull gives him a quizzical look. Lucy is staring at the ceiling, whistling softly. Gull steps forward frowning, not knowing what to expect when she opens the door. Slowly she does so, peering around the edge as it opens creakily.

‘There's nobody here,' Gull says gazing around. She steps outside and checks both sides of the doorway, expecting someone to pop out at her any minute. Then she notices a car in the distance kicking up dust as it speeds off. ‘That's odd. Why didn't they stop?' she asks bemused.

Suddenly, she spins right around listening. The next instance, she flies down the front steps: a dilapidated cardboard box is sitting on the flagged path. She bends down intrigued. The box moves. Gull squeals. She looks up to see her cousins standing around her with their hands over their mouths and their shoulders shaking. Gull pushes back the flaps of the box. ‘Oh, wonderful! Look everybody. Puppies! Just what I wished for.'

Just then, Helen appears behind her children and groans. Hearing the cowbell she's come to investigate. Shaking her head Helen closes her eyes. ‘Eight – no, nine,' she says. Tom peers into the box, picks up a few warm, squirming bundles and then places them carefully back in the box.

‘Right again, Mum,' he says.

‘How do you do that?' Gull asks impressed. ‘How do you know things without er, knowing you er, know?'

‘It's a gift,' Helen says. ‘Being psychic runs on my side of the family. Grandma has it and my mother's got it too.'

‘Has Lucy got it?' Gull asks excitedly.

‘You make it sound like measles,' Helen laughs, tall and dark like Lucy but with a slight frame like Jake. ‘We'll have to wait and see,' she says mysteriously. ‘Knowing things before they happen, picking up invisible signs, is not always for the best. Then again, sometimes it is.'

‘Mum, remember when you guessed what each of us had made for your birthday?' Tom says eagerly.

‘That's the problem,' Helen says. ‘I don't get as many surprises as everybody else: that's the downside. But enough of star gazing or should I say puppy gazing. Somebody, why don't you take Gull and the puppies over to the shed? Harry will be thrilled, I don't think,' she adds shaking her head ruefully.

‘You don't have to be psychic to know that,' Tom laughs picking up the box carefully. Everybody walks off towards the kitchen at the back of the Folly. ‘Dad'll be down the back tinkering. Dad can fix anything,' he says proudly as he balances the box in his arms.

‘Ooh, let me,' Gull says reaching out. Tom nods and cradles the box in Gull's outstretched arms. She grins from ear to ear as the puppies squirm around inside – fat, warm and mewling. Useless walks at her side proudly. The three of them stroll around the side of the house. Nearby, they can see the big, corrugated iron shed. As they walk nearer, Gull can see her uncle Harry. He's standing slightly stooped at the back of the shed listening to a short, sandy-coloured man in a pale suit.

‘What was Lucy talking about?' Gull asks Tom.

‘Huh?' Tom says, watching his father as they amble towards the big shed.

‘About jam! Have you made a different flavour? Not like strawberry or apricot but something really strange? Maybe liquorice?'

‘Er, not exactly,' Tom says grinning at her as she juggles the squirming box in her arms, Useless never leaving her side.

‘Well tell me. What's the big secret? What flavour is it?'

‘Marmalade,' he says trying not to laugh.

‘Marmalade? That's not very exciting.'

Entering the big shed, Gull stops, peering around at all the farm paraphernalia: the big, red Harvester next to her uncle and a stranger, the bits of rope, wire and tools hanging off various hooks, a small yellow tractor in the corner. ‘Where's the marmalade?' she asks, craning her neck as she searches for jars of jam. Just then, Gull feels soft fur wrapping itself around her legs: she almost drops the box of puppies.

‘This marmalade is unique,' Tom grins. ‘It has four paws and is soft and furry. And her name is “Jam”, of course.'

Gull looks down and into the face of the prettiest marmalade coloured cat she has ever seen. ‘Oh, isn't she beautiful,' Gull coos quickly handing the box to Tom and bending down to stroke the fluffy tabby who is covered in muted tones of orange, white and chocolate. Tom puts the box down on the ground. Just then, a wavering shadow falls across the box. The puppies mewl louder.

‘They must be hungry,' the man in the pale suit says, bending down and pushing back a flap of the box. A shaft of light glints on something silver in the man's hand as he bends down to pat them. He puts this same hand into the box and when he stands up, he's holding one of the squirming puppies.

Just then, Useless, who has wandered away, rushes back to where the group is standing. Teeth bared, he growls at the stranger. The next minute, Useless starts barking frantically, his hackles rising. The man turns pale and immediately puts the puppy back in the box. As he straightens, the man closes the old-fashioned watch in his hand. Again, Useless barks. Then he resumes growling.

‘Grab his collar, Tom!' Harry shouts as he lopes towards them.

Tom seizes the dog's collar and holds it firmly.

‘Sorry about that, Mr Sprogg,' Harry says looking quizzically at the mutt. He shakes his head. ‘Never known him to do that before.' Frowning at Useless, Harry says, ‘I'll walk you to your car. You look a bit shaken.' As they walk quickly out of the shed away from Useless, Harry shakes his head. ‘I can't understand it. Useless is so placid: more likely to lick you to death than bite you. That's why he's the kids' dog. So,' he says as they continue walking towards the beige car, ‘you say we were at school together. Well that's got me beat. For the life of me, I can't remember you.'

Just then, Gull glances over at the man with Harry: she catches a fleeting look of fury on his face. The next instant, his face is bland again.

‘Don't give it a second thought, Mr Hepplewhite. Anyway, it was a long time ago, almost twenty years. And now,' he says, opening and closing his old-fashioned watch, ‘it doesn't matter.'

Gull, intrigued by the man's face, sees a small, forced smile and glimpses sharp teeth.
Reminds me of a wolf
, she thinks. Gull shivers. She glances over at Useless, now whimpering under Tom's firm hold. She stares after the colourless man as he climbs into his car. Her uncle turns and walks back towards them, tall, dark, with a handsome, weathered face. He's in his mid-thirties.

‘You can let go now,' Harry says to his son. As soon as he's free, Useless heads straight for the puppies in the box. With his nose, he gently touches each one, whimpering and nuzzling enthusiastically. ‘Well that's a turn-up for the books,' Harry murmurs standing over Useless and frowning. ‘Never known him to growl at anyone before. He's always so friendly.'

‘Maybe he didn't like a stranger picking up his pups,' Gull suggests.

‘Never bothered him before,' Harry says, scratching his head. ‘Everyone's his best friend. Hope he's not turning nasty all of a sudden.'

‘No Dad,' Tom says hastily. ‘I'm sure he isn't.'

‘I saw a flash of silver as that man bent over the puppies,' Gull blurts out. ‘Maybe Useless saw the same thing, and he was protecting his puppies. Thought they were in danger or something.'

‘Could be,' Harry says shrugging the matter away. ‘Just as well you're here Gull, to look after us all.' Harry bends down to Gull's level, balancing on his haunches. ‘Good to see you on the farm for once,' he says playfully ruffling her white-blonde hair. ‘Now, just put those puppies over there, Gull,' he requests pointing to a pen in the corner.

Gull opens the gate of the pen and her jaw drops. A heap of puppies – all different sizes and shapes – are playing, dozing and fighting in the roomy pen.

‘How many this time?' Harry asks over his shoulder as he walks back to the giant Harvester near the back of the shed.

‘Nine,' Tom says very quietly.

‘Can't hear you,' Harry shouts.

Tom gives Gull a hopeless look.

‘Less than ten, Dad,' Tom says loudly.

Harry stops tightening a bolt on the Harvester and looks hard at his son. ‘How many less?'

‘Er, one less,' Tom says as he and Gull finish putting the puppies in the pen.

Harry walks back towards Tom and Gull, wiping his hands with a greasy rag. He tucks it in a pocket of his oil stained jeans. He gazes down at all the wriggling puppies. Then he looks down at Useless standing beside him, wagging every part of himself with pride and joy, a big lopsided grin on his face. ‘Father of the Year again,' Harry says laughing. ‘Looks like some exotic specimen this time,' he says shaking his head at Useless who just grins back, wagging his tail even harder. ‘Can't fit many more in the pie dish, I'm afraid, Useless.'

Immediately, Gull straightens up. ‘Pie dish? What pie dish?'

‘Oh, that's just what Dad calls this pen,' Tom shrugs.

‘But why Harry?' Gull asks her uncle.

‘Well,' Harry says seriously, ‘if there comes a time when there are too many mouths to feed or this new crop of mine fails, there's just one thing left to do. It's what I like to call “puppy pie” time.'

Gull looks at him hard. ‘You mean,' she says looking stricken, ‘you'd put the puppies in a pie? And eat them?' She looks back at the warm, fat puppies, playing, sleeping and squeaking. Some of them look back at her, their heads cocked to one side, their big brown eyes soulful.

‘What else can I do with twenty-one puppies?' Harry asks shrugging. ‘Mmm, I think puppy pie would be best with puff pastry. Must ask Jake: he knows all about these things.'

Just then, Harry glances down at Gull: he sees a very determined look on the face of his usually easy-going niece. She pulls herself up to her full, if diminutive, height. ‘Harry,' she says firmly, ‘I won't let you. Even if I have to take them all home with me, you are not eating puppy pie.' Then her bottom lip begins to quiver. Harry bends down immediately and gives her a big hug. ‘Oh, honey, I was only kidding,' he says quickly. ‘Wasn't I, Tom?'

‘Yep,' Tom replies just as quickly. ‘Dad, you tell the biggest whoppers. Even if the jokes are pretty lame,' he adds.

Gull looks at both of them and bursts into tears of relief. They all start laughing.

Harry grins. ‘Anyway, I don't even like puppy pie. Why, the last time I had it, all those waggly tails kept getting up my nose.'

‘Harry,' Gull gasps, playfully punching her uncle's arm. He picks her up and throws her into the air, swinging her onto his shoulders.

‘Enough tinkering! Time for morning tea! I'm starving,' he adds as he strides off towards the farmhouse with Tom at his side and Gull on his shoulders. Useless has wandered out of the shed and is nowhere to be seen.

‘By the way, Dad,' Tom says, ‘who was that man you were talking to?'

‘What man?' Harry thinks. ‘Oh, him! I'd forgotten all about him. Says he's the new bank manager, Cyril Sprogg. He says we were at school together but for the life of me, I can't remember him. Suppose it doesn't matter much. Anyway, he came out to introduce himself.' His voice drops slightly. ‘Guess the Bank will go on as usual with the overdraft. He didn't mention it so I suppose we plod along as usual. But soon,' he adds smiling, ‘we won't have an overdraft if this new crop of mine goes as well as I expect. Can't wait,' he says, picking up his pace and running towards the farmhouse, Gull bouncing happily up and down on his shoulders. ‘And I can tell you all about the new crop, Gull. It has so much potential for us Hepplewhites and for all the other farmers too. Very, very exciting!'

Tom swings open the kitchen screen door, Gull ducking her head, and the three of them disappear inside.

Back in the big shed, with her fur fluffed up and her tail in the air, the marmalade cat, Jam, jumps gracefully into the puppy pen as if she's a queen. Stepping daintily over several sleeping puppies, she plops herself down on the straw purring in anticipation. Sensing Jam's maternal presence, the new arrivals squeak, squeal and stumble over to where she lies. In no time, there is silence: the new arrivals have found warmth and milk from Jam. She is never happier than when she's surrounded by Useless' offspring.