blueberries, the click-clack of Chester stacking and sorting his buttons, the swish-swish of Wordsworth turning the pages of his book, the clunk-dunkle-donk of a shingle coming loose on the roof above and the slurp-num-num-slurp of a dinosaur sucking on the hem of her pyjama pants.
The sounds of Groves.
Sounds that belonged together.
Sounds that blended into one soft, comforting lullaby.
The morningâs sad and lonely longings for home slipped quietly away. Forgotten was her despair at the pigâs return. Even the bold red uppercase letters from the tiny black book had thinned and faded to a pleasant pastel pink.
âBeware,â mumbled Olive. âHow silly! What harm can there be in taking one small dinosaur into oneâs house and oneâs heart?â
Hmmm. We shall see, dear reader.
We shall see . . .
12
In which Olive learns that there is always room for improvement
The entrance hall at Groves was buzzing with busyness. Flick the goanna was pressed against the front door, howling with fear as Jabber threw knives around him. Splash Gordon was running around with a fishbowl stuck on his head after a successful dive from the first-floor landing. Diana the lion tamer wielded her whip and stomped her feet in a fruitless attempt to control Num-Num. Carlos, Sparky Burns and Bullet Barnes were lying on the floor by the window with crayons and large sheets of paper, designing a new cannon. But the acrobats, Eduardo, Alfonzo and Anastasia, were nowhere to be seen.
Olive skipped over to Carlos, Sparky and Bullet. âThat looks good,â she said, pointing her toe at their drawing.
Carlos smiled up at her. âItâs a mega-cannon. One which can pack enough explosives to launch Bullet into outer space.â
Carlos and Sparky were looking far more enthusiastic about the project than Bullet. As gunpowder pourer and fuse lighter, they did have a lot less to lose than Bullet, the human cannonball, if things went wrong.
âWhere are all the acrobats?â asked Olive.
Carlos pointed with his crayon. âOut in the back garden. Theyâre trying something new.â
Olive smiled her thanks, skipped across the entrance hall, bunny-hopped along the corridor, somersaulted out the back door and cartwheeled across the lawn, where she collided with a tree trunk and fell flat on her back.
When orange swirls and yellow canaries had stopped clouding her vision, she found herself looking into a long, scornful face. It was Star, the chestnut horse with the white patch on her forehead.
âDid you see that, Beauty?â Star whinnied over her shoulder to the black horse. âShe canât even make it past the fish pond without tripping over her own arms and legs.â
âIt was the tree,â said Olive, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. âI didnât expect a tree trunk so close to the back door.â
The horses glanced towards the school. The back door was a good ten metres away. They looked down their noses at Olive, then trotted off, tossing their manes and making disparaging âHmmmph!â noises.
âRoll up! Roll up! The circus is in town!â The Ringmaster paced across the grass, a megaphone in one hand, a riding crop in the other. His red jacket looked brilliant amongst the greenery. His black satin top hat and waxed moustache shone in the morning light.
Anastasia, Eduardo, Alfonzo and Olive lined up side by side and stood to attention. Star and Beauty trotted around behind them, blowing hot air from their nostrils.
âEquine acrobatics!â roared the Ringmaster. âThe speed and beauty of horses combined with the skill and precision of acrobats. A flashy, daring, treacherous act that will thrill, delight and terrify an audience to the point where they will be begging us to stop and crying for more at one and the same time!â
Olive jumped up and down, clapping her hands. âOh, goody! I love horse riding.â
This was not strictly
Lisa Lace
Grace Livingston Hill
Aurelia Wills
Alyssa J. Montgomery
Iris Johansen
Eve Hathaway
Clare Francis
Colin Forbes
Rosanna Challis
B.V. Larson