Lucky Star Page 12

  ‘Creep’s not fit to look after a stick insect, let alone a dog,’ Fitz says.

  ‘You don’t think he’d have left Lucky alone?’ I wonder out loud. ‘Forgotten about him, maybe?’

  Jake looks across from the car he’s working on, frowning. Fitz lowers his voice. ‘Nah’ he says. ‘He’ll have left him with a mate, most likely. We could take a look around, try and find out.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Chan narrows his eyes. ‘We can say we’ve started a dog-walking business,’ he says. ‘We can pretend we’re making lists and rotas for the business, find out about every dog on the estate.’

  ‘Nice one,’ Fitz grins.

  Jake straightens up, wiping his hands on an oily rag. ‘It’s not a game,’ he says to us. ‘Don’t go stirring up trouble, OK? I mean it.’

  Fitz shrugs. ‘We’re not doing nothin’ wrong,’ he says. ‘Just getting some facts together. Wassup with that?’

  ‘Don’t mess with Frank Scully,’ Jake insists.

  ‘We won’t,’ Fitz says. ‘Scully’s not here anyway. We’ll stay out of trouble, OK, man?’

  Fitz and Chan head off, and Jake rolls his eyes. ‘Like kids playing at spies,’ he huffs. ‘Seriously, Mouse, you have to forget about this dog.’

  ‘I can’t!’ I burst out. ‘Not until I know if he’s OK or not. Why would Scully nick his dog back and then disappear and leave him behind? It doesn’t make sense. I’m worried.’

  Jake pushes a hand through his hair, leaving a couple of streaks of grime on his forehead.

  ‘Lucky was mine,’ I explain. ‘It’s not my fault that he was Scully’s first. I care about him, OK?’

  Jake sighs. ‘The dog’s all right,’ he says.

  ‘You don’t know that!’

  ‘I do,’ Jake says. ‘All right? Scully’s got some business deal, down Luton way. He couldn’t take the dog, but Lucky’s safe, take my word for it. You can relax.’

  I open my eyes wide, but Jake can’t quite meet my gaze.

  ‘You knew?’ I ask. ‘You knew he was safe, all this time?’

  ‘I can’t get involved in this, Mouse, mate,’ Jake says. ‘Forget I said anything, yeah?’

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘Forget?’ I echo. ‘Jake, you know how worried I’ve been about Lucky. Now you’re saying you knew all along where he was?’

  ‘I’m not saying that,’ Jake snaps.

  ‘But you knew he was safe. You knew he was being looked after, fed, cared for. You could have told me!’

  ‘Mouse, mate,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve said way more than I should have already. Just drop it. You’ve got cars to wash.’

  He walks away, holes up in the little office and slams the door behind him. I can see him through the glass, hunched over the desk, working through a mound of paperwork. His jaw is set, his face angry, but I can’t tell whether he’s angry with Scully or with me, or maybe even himself.

  I head for the sink, fill a fresh bucket with warm water and add a capful of carwash, grab a sponge and a squeegee and a chamois leather. I wash four cars, one after the other, but it doesn’t quite kill the anger, the sense of betrayal. How come Jake knows so much, anyway? I dig out the chrome cleaner and start scrubbing at the chrome trim, polishing so hard I can see my reflection in the silvery surface. Jake comes up behind me, quietly. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘OK, Mouse. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You should have told me, Jake.’

  ‘I know, Mouse, mate,’ he says. ‘It’s complicated, but yeah, I should have told you. Scully’s out of order on this.’

  ‘Is he your friend?’ I ask, my mouth curled into a sneer. ‘Or just a business associate?’

  ‘Don’t matter,’ Jake tells me. ‘Do you want this blasted dog back, or not?’

  My heart leaps. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘You know I do!’

  Jake chews his lip. ‘Mouse, you have to keep quiet about this,’ he says. ‘If Scully ever finds out I helped you …’

  ‘He won’t,’ I promise. ‘I won’t tell anyone, not ever!’

  Jake sighs. ‘He’ll know anyhow,’ he says heavily. ‘It ain’t rocket science. We’re gonna have to lie low for a bit, the pair of us.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I say.

  He walks back to the office, opens a locked drawer and pulls out a small silver key on a knotted loop of string. ‘Come on then.’

  We head out across the courtyard, walking down towards the lock-up garages. ‘Scully wanted a guard dog, not a pet,’ Jake tells me. ‘Something fierce, something tough. Then he won Stupid in a card game. It seemed perfect, only the pup grew up small and skinny and about as fierce and tough as ice cream and jelly. Scully wasn’t pleased. He didn’t treat the dog well – said he was trying to toughen it up.’

  Not treating a dog well … I try not to think about what that might mean.

  ‘Then Stupid – Lucky, I mean – ran away. Everyone knew it was because he’d treated the dog so badly, but Scully tried to make out the dog had been stolen. Maybe he even believed it himself.’

  We’re in the lane of lock-up garages now, walking over broken glass, between rows of ancient, ramshackle garages.

  ‘I’m only doing this because I think it’s wrong, OK, to leave him alone like this,’ Jake is telling me. ‘Scully was only meant to be gone overnight, but the deal’s taking a while to sort out –’

  ‘Where is he?’ I ask, my heart thumping. ‘Where’s Lucky?’

  ‘I went in and fed him, yesterday, OK?’ Jake tells me. ‘I’ve got a spare key, y’see. I swear I wouldn’t have let him stay there another night, Mouse. It’s wrong. It’s cruel.’

  Jake stops beside one of the lock-ups, fits the little silver key into the lock. I think I hear a faint whimpering sound, and then Jake is pulling the metal door up and over our heads.

  It’s dark inside the garage, and it takes me a moment to focus. Down at the back, behind a posh blue car and a tower of piled-up boxes half-hidden in canvas tarpaulin, Lucky is tied to the wall by his washing-line lead. He has pulled so hard to free himself that the neckerchief has turned into a noose round his neck, almost choking him. He has no food, an empty water bowl, nothing but an oily rag to lie on. There is a yellow puddle at his feet, dog dirt in the corner, the stink of ammonia and fear.

  I hate Scully so much right then, I could kill him.

  ‘I had to leave him tied up,’ Jake says. ‘If Scully had come back and found him untied … well, don’t matter now, I guess.’

  ‘Did you give him the rag to lie on?’ I ask. ‘The water bowl?’

  ‘Yeah, but it wasn’t enough,’ Jake says, sadly. ‘I should have done more. I’m sorry, Mouse.’

  I’m sorry too. I always thought Jake was someone strong, someone I could trust, but I can see now he’s just as scared as the rest of us. At least, in the end, he did what was right. Another day like this and Lucky could have died, maybe, sad and starving and shivering in the long, cold nights.

  Jake bends down, slicing through the neckerchief with a penknife. Lucky springs forward, into my arms, and I hide my face against his shivering body. Boys don’t cry.

  Back at the flat, I make a nest for Lucky beneath the Swiss cheese plant with the twinkling fairy lights. I cover him with my old hoodie, let him lap water from a bowl lifted up to him, take slices of ham from my fingers. He drinks and eats and sleeps a lot, then wakes and gazes at me with sad brown eyes. His lips twitch into a grin.

  ‘He’ll be OK,’ Mum tells me. ‘Thank goodness you found him in time.’

  ‘I couldn’t leave him there,’ I tell her. ‘I just couldn’t, Mum.’

  ‘I know, Mouse,’ she says. ‘I know.’

  I told her that I was walking past the lock-ups and heard a whining, scrabbling noise. I pretended I’d been able to force the lock, because I didn’t want to dump Jake in trouble. He’ll have enough of that on his plate when Scully gets back and finds Lucky gone.

  Me too.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I ask Mum.

 
; ‘Lie low,’ she says. ‘Stick together. Hope for the best.’

  I meet Cat beneath a street light at the corner of her street. ‘So, Lucky’s back,’ she says, her eyes dancing. ‘Mouse, I’m so, so glad!’

  ‘Me too,’ I tell her. ‘But Scully’ll go crazy when he finds out. He’s still away, so we’re OK for now, but things could get very nasty …’

  ‘He’s on bail,’ Cat scoffs. ‘What can he do? Besides, you could get the RSPCA on to him. Sick loser. It’ll be OK, Mouse, trust me.’

  Somehow, I don’t think either bail or the threat of the RSPCA would worry Scully much, but I keep my mouth shut.

  ‘Can’t wait to see Lucky,’ Cat is saying. ‘Poor little thing …’

  ‘He’s much better,’ I tell her. ‘He was pretty rough at first, but he slept for hours and he’s eaten his body weight in ham and sausages and digestive biscuits.’

  ‘I’ve bought him some Camembert,’ Cat says. ‘He likes that.’

  As we turn in to the estate, we meet Fitz and Chan being towed along by two huge Rottweilers. ‘Mouse, man,’ Fitz accuses. ‘This is all your fault! The dog-walking business was just meant to be a scam, but you try saying no to a nutter like Psycho Sam. He’s signed us up to walk his dogs twice a day from now until Christmas!’

  I laugh. ‘Think of the money you’ll earn.’

  ‘What money?’ Fitz wails. ‘He reckons it’s compensation for the time we broke his window playing footy. Man, we were eight years old! That’s harsh!’

  ‘I found Lucky,’ I tell them, launching into the edited version of the story I’ve already told Mum and Cat, the version that doesn’t include Jake.

  Fitz and Chan high five us, then get dragged off by the lumbering Rottweilers. Cat and I walk between the tower blocks, past the beaten-up kids’ playground towards the Phoenix wreckage. I tell her Mum’s news about the council’s promise to help them rebuild.

  ‘Things are really changing around here,’ Cat says. ‘It starts with a few graffiti hits and a couple of flowers planted in the ashes, and now look at what’s happening!’

  ‘Yeah …’ I’m looking at something else, though, something just beyond the wrecked Phoenix, a shiny, dark blue VW camper van painted with millions of tiny silver stars.

  It reminds me of another van, a clapped-out patchwork-painted VW, a van from the past, from the summer I spent with my dad. It makes me think of Finn, Dizzy and Leggit, of festival nights curled up on a thin bunk, of hot apple squash made from the ancient whistling kettle and drunk scalding hot from spotty tin mugs.

  ‘See that old van?’ I start saying to Cat, and then everything goes crazy because a big, scruffy black-and-white wolf-dog is racing towards me across the mud, tail waving like a flag. I don’t understand. It can’t really be happening, but it is, and my heart hammers so hard you can probably see it through my T-shirt. Cat screams and the big black-and-white lurcher dog launches herself at me, licking my face, twisting and yelping.

  ‘What is this?’ Cat is asking, but I’m down on my knees on the concrete, the big skinny dog dancing around me. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Lucky jumps in between us, yelping, grinning, not wanting to be left out. I can see Mum in the distance, grinning, and I scoop Lucky up, hold him tight.

  ‘Feeling better, huh?’ I grin. Then I turn to the big, scruffy wolf-dog leaping around me, tail lashing.

  ‘Leggit,’ I whisper into her sticky-up fur. ‘Hey, hey, Leggit! It’s really you! How are you, girl? What took you so long?’

  I introduce Leggit to Lucky, and the two dogs circle warily, sniffing, then take off at top speed towards the van, where Mum is standing with a young man and woman. They were just twelve and thirteen that long-gone summer, younger than I am now, but I’d know Finn and Dizzy anywhere.

  They were my best friends that summer I was seven, along with Leggitt, of course. My dad let me down, kept his distance and finally ran out on me, but Finn and Dizzy were always there, no matter what. They cared. I thought I’d have them forever, but after the bonfire accident, the summer fell apart, social services stepped in and gradually we lost touch.

  Finn is taller, broader now, with dark dreadlocks down past his shoulders, pulled back from his face with a headband. His eyes are blue-grey and his mouth curves up in the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. Beside him, Dizzy is wiping her eyes, running towards me, whirling me round and round in a tight, tight hug.

  ‘Dizzy!’ I choke out. ‘Finn!’

  ‘Mouse, pal,’ Finn laughs. ‘It’s so good to see you! We couldn’t believe it when we got your letter, after all that time …’

  My letter? I shoot a sidelong glance at Cat, and she can’t meet my eye. Her mouth twitches into a smile.

  ‘It went to Dad’s place, obviously,’ Dizzy explains. ‘They were on holiday, but he passed it on the minute he got back. I couldn’t believe it. It was the

  best surprise ever!’

  ‘Too right!’ I grin, and Cat winks at me.

  The girl who gave me a handful of stars has just given me back my best friends, and I can’t even begin to take it all in.

  ‘We were going to write, but there’s so much to catch up on,’ Finn is saying. ‘It’s my brother’s birthday tomorrow – remember Niall? He lives in Kent now. We’re heading down to see him, so we thought we’d drop in on you!’

  ‘We just couldn’t wait,’ Dizzy chips in. ‘We found the flat OK, but Magi said you were out …’

  ‘We came down to the van,’ Mum says. ‘Not a good idea to leave it parked here unattended. A minute more and the kids’d have picked it clean.’

  ‘This is my girlfriend, Cat,’ I tell them. ‘And my dog, Lucky.’

  ‘Hi, Cat,’ they say. ‘Hi, Lucky.’

  Everyone is smiling and talking at once, and Leggit and Lucky are skittering around, tails in the air. I have about a million questions, but I don’t know where to start.

  ‘Can you stay?’ I ask. ‘I mean, you don’t have to be at Niall’s until tomorrow, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Finn says. ‘We can stay for a bit. If you’ll have us, that is!’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ Mum says. ‘I wouldn’t leave the van here overnight, though … it might not be safe.’

  ‘No problem,’ Finn tells her. ‘We’ll stay a while, then head on down to Kent. I promised Dizz a whistle-stop tour of London, so if you want to show us the big city …’

  ‘What now?’ I ask. ‘In the dark?’

  ‘Why not?’ Dizzy says. ‘It’ll be pretty. You can be our tour guides!’

  We pile into the camper-van, Mum, Cat, Lucky, Leggit and me, with Finn and Dizzy in the front. Finn fires the engine up, and the whole van shakes and roars like a demented tractor. I frown. ‘It sounds exactly like …’

  ‘… the patchwork van?’ Dizzy finishes for me. ‘It is. Finn painted it up. We still take it to the festivals, in the summer. We do storytelling workshops, so we get in free!’

  I think of the new-look patchwork van struggling over rutted ground, parking up beside a river with tents and tepees all around. Music playing into the night, wood fires burning, children running wild, the way we did at festivals long ago. I can’t help smiling.

  ‘Where to first?’ Finn wants to know, turning out of the estate and on to the main road. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘A magical mystery tour, yeah?’ Mum suggests. ‘Take a left here …’

  ‘OK,’ Finn says. ‘We’re not fast, but we’re reliable. Actually, we’re not reliable either, but we do have tea-making facilities …’

  ‘I can’t believe how tall you are, Mouse,’ Dizzy says over her shoulder. ‘What are you now, fourteen?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Still into BMX bikes and beaches and tree houses?’

  I frown. ‘Not exactly. I kind of went off the whole BMX thing after the bonfire, y’know? And I haven’t seen many beaches or tree houses, lately.’

  ‘He’s more into painting, these days,’ Cat says. ‘And stars.’

  ‘Stars?’ Dizzy asks. ‘
Remember when we used to look for the Pole Star, that summer? I still think of you, whenever I see it.’

  I want to say that I think of her too, and Finn, Leggit, Tess and a half-dozen other people from that long-gone summer. I just grin at Dizzy through the darkened van, and she grins back, and I think she gets the message.

  ‘What about your mum, Finn?’ I ask. ‘Is she still at Bramble Cottage?’

  ‘Yeah, Tess is still there,’ he says. ‘And Gran. If you ever want a country holiday, you’d be welcome, Mouse – and you, of course, Magi, and Cat. London’s cool, but if you fancy a bit of peace and quiet …’

  Finn takes care not to make the offer sound like charity, and Mum smiles in the darkness. She looks happy tonight, like the kind of person who might go for a holiday in the country. I think about the tree house with its roof of stars at Bramble Cottage, and about the veggie garden, the goat, the chickens. I refuse to think about the bonfire, or the BMX, or any of the stuff that happened afterwards.

  ‘Take a right turn just here,’ Mum instructs. ‘Oxford Circus!’

  We rumble past the famous shopping street, grinning at the flashing Christmas lights, the tacky neon Santas. ‘Good job none of it’s open,’ Dizzy says. ‘I haven’t started my Christmas shopping yet!’

  A few minutes later, we’re heading for Trafalgar Square, where the giant Christmas tree glints and sparkles in the darkness.

  ‘So, were you, like, childhood sweethearts?’ Cat asks Finn and Dizzy. ‘I didn’t realize. Cool!’

  ‘We weren’t together the whole time,’ Dizzy says.

  ‘No, she ditched me in Year Nine,’ Finn says. ‘For some geek who helped her with her chemistry homework –’

  ‘He was not a geek!’

  ‘She got an A in her GCSE and dumped him the next day,’ Finn tells us. ‘Poor guy.’

  ‘So you got back together?’

  ‘Eventually. I turned up on the doorstep just before her seventeenth birthday in this old crate, and whisked her away to Glastonbury Festival. Haven’t been able to shake her off since!’