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Authors: Elizabeth Jane Howard
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something with a small stiff brush. A mug of steaming dark brown tea sat on the floor between his legs. After Spotty had poured himself another steaming mug, he sat opposite him and
unwrapped the contents of the paper bag. The smell became unbearably wonderful, and Charley realised how hungry he was. He edged himself into the kitchen – there was only just room for him
– and gazed longingly at the stack of thick meat sandwiches that Spotty and Beard were chewing. He made a tiny whimpering sound. It worked. Spotty broke off pieces from his sandwich and gave
them to him. Charley’s tail beat the floor in gratitude. By the time they had finished, he had had the best part of two sandwiches. He licked both their hands to thank them, and they patted
him and said he was a good dog. He went into the front room and had a long drink of water, and then lay down by the door with his head between his paws. He was much too nervous and excited to sleep
as he realised that his one chance of escape would be when the men had finished their work and went back out to their van.
He was wrong. He heard them clattering about with their tools, and then they sounded as though they were arguing, and finally as though they were having a full-scale row. Then Spotty came out
– you couldn’t see his spots because he was so red in the face from rage. He stormed out of the flat, leaving both doors wide open. Charley didn’t hesitate. He slipped through the
flat door, and the front one. Then he paused. The back doors of the van were open, but all he could see of Spotty was his bottom and his boots. He was burrowing well into the back of the van.
Charley ran – as fast as he had ever run in his life. He did not stop until he was several streets away from Hoot’s prison flat. His instinct had been to go back to Poppy’s
home, but he told himself that a) she would not be there, and b) horrible Mrs Keeper might be.
Eventually he reached the small park where Hoot had taken him once for a dreary walk on the lead. He found some bushes to hide in while he got his breath back and thought what to do.
This did not take him long. He knew – almost at once – that he must get back to the refuge place to be with Alphonse, his only friend, who at least knew how badly he was missing
Poppy. It seemed a long way away, but he was sure that somehow he would find it.
He waited until dusk before he set out. He no longer trusted any people, and he was especially afraid of people in cars in case they were Hoot coming to look for him. Mostly he trotted
purposefully in what he thought was the right direction, but whenever he saw anyone he ran down the nearest side street. When it got dark and the street lights came on, there was nothing for it but
to run. After some crashing noises in the sky it began to rain. The rain got worse and he was soon soaked, but the good thing about this was that there were hardly any people in the streets, and
they were all too concerned with getting out of the wet to notice him. He ran for miles until he was really tired and thirsty. He drank some water out of quite a nice puddle, but the moment he
stopped running he began to shiver. Then, suddenly his nose picked up the smells of the refuge place, and there was the wall with the gate in it that Hoot had taken him through. He knew he could
not jump over the wall, as apart from being too high, it had an extra fence of wire on top of the brick. He was shaking with cold now, but the rain had stopped and it began to be less dark. How
could he get in? Then he remembered that Mrs Keeper had pressed a knob and talked to the gate and it had said something back and then opened. He stood on his hind legs to find the knob – yes!
There it was – a round thing with a button in the middle. He tried pushing it with his nose, but that didn’t work. He tried leaping up to push the knob, but his paws were the wrong
shape to get at the button. He could not think what to do. It was
unwrapped the contents of the paper bag. The smell became unbearably wonderful, and Charley realised how hungry he was. He edged himself into the kitchen – there was only just room for him
– and gazed longingly at the stack of thick meat sandwiches that Spotty and Beard were chewing. He made a tiny whimpering sound. It worked. Spotty broke off pieces from his sandwich and gave
them to him. Charley’s tail beat the floor in gratitude. By the time they had finished, he had had the best part of two sandwiches. He licked both their hands to thank them, and they patted
him and said he was a good dog. He went into the front room and had a long drink of water, and then lay down by the door with his head between his paws. He was much too nervous and excited to sleep
as he realised that his one chance of escape would be when the men had finished their work and went back out to their van.
He was wrong. He heard them clattering about with their tools, and then they sounded as though they were arguing, and finally as though they were having a full-scale row. Then Spotty came out
– you couldn’t see his spots because he was so red in the face from rage. He stormed out of the flat, leaving both doors wide open. Charley didn’t hesitate. He slipped through the
flat door, and the front one. Then he paused. The back doors of the van were open, but all he could see of Spotty was his bottom and his boots. He was burrowing well into the back of the van.
Charley ran – as fast as he had ever run in his life. He did not stop until he was several streets away from Hoot’s prison flat. His instinct had been to go back to Poppy’s
home, but he told himself that a) she would not be there, and b) horrible Mrs Keeper might be.
Eventually he reached the small park where Hoot had taken him once for a dreary walk on the lead. He found some bushes to hide in while he got his breath back and thought what to do.
This did not take him long. He knew – almost at once – that he must get back to the refuge place to be with Alphonse, his only friend, who at least knew how badly he was missing
Poppy. It seemed a long way away, but he was sure that somehow he would find it.
He waited until dusk before he set out. He no longer trusted any people, and he was especially afraid of people in cars in case they were Hoot coming to look for him. Mostly he trotted
purposefully in what he thought was the right direction, but whenever he saw anyone he ran down the nearest side street. When it got dark and the street lights came on, there was nothing for it but
to run. After some crashing noises in the sky it began to rain. The rain got worse and he was soon soaked, but the good thing about this was that there were hardly any people in the streets, and
they were all too concerned with getting out of the wet to notice him. He ran for miles until he was really tired and thirsty. He drank some water out of quite a nice puddle, but the moment he
stopped running he began to shiver. Then, suddenly his nose picked up the smells of the refuge place, and there was the wall with the gate in it that Hoot had taken him through. He knew he could
not jump over the wall, as apart from being too high, it had an extra fence of wire on top of the brick. He was shaking with cold now, but the rain had stopped and it began to be less dark. How
could he get in? Then he remembered that Mrs Keeper had pressed a knob and talked to the gate and it had said something back and then opened. He stood on his hind legs to find the knob – yes!
There it was – a round thing with a button in the middle. He tried pushing it with his nose, but that didn’t work. He tried leaping up to push the knob, but his paws were the wrong
shape to get at the button. He could not think what to do. It was
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