Unleashed! Read online

  ‘Stop checking every five seconds,’ said Darcy, sitting beside her. ‘You’re making me nervous.’

  Mio looked puzzled. ‘Nervous? I thought you’d be excited.’

  ‘Nervous and excited all rolled in one.’

  Bryce sat beside Darcy, but perched on the edge. He drummed a beat on the underside of the bench, enjoying the richness of the sound. But Clem decided to slot between Mio and Darcy, forcing them to shuffle up and Bryce to stop drumming. The others sat patiently but Clem couldn’t.

  ‘Stop jiggling.’

  ‘Stop wriggling.’

  ‘Stop wiggling.’

  Clem laughed and tapped her feet faster. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Would you sit still!’ Mio reached over, pouncing on Clem to hold her down.

  ‘Sorry, but I’m majorly excited.’

  All of a sudden Bryce got to his feet and pointed down the platform opposite, saying, ‘Hey! Isn’t that the boy we saw last Sunday? The one who stared at us.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Clem as she scanned the waiting passengers.

  Bryce took a few steps down the platform. ‘There. No, further down. I’m sure he’s the one.’

  Clem squinted in the bright light at the boy on the other platform. ‘The one Mio thought looked like a rat?’ she asked.

  ‘Yup.’

  Clem stared at the boy. He sat, his jacket bunched around him, reading a magazine. ‘It is! Look. He’s wearing the same old baggy clothes.’

  ‘It could be him,’ said Darcy. ‘Can’t see his face, though.’

  ‘It is him!’ Mio squeezed Bryce’s arm. ‘Same hat. It’s a Scram Dangle. I’d know it anywhere.’ She gripped harder.

  ‘Ouch!’ Bryce shrugged his arm away and started rubbing it. He rolled up his sleeve to inspect the red marks.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Mio. ‘I got carried away.’

  ‘Anyone’d think he’s following us,’ said Clem with a shiver.

  Darcy studied the boy and asked, ‘What game’s he playing, you reckon?’

  Just as Mio was about to reply the rumble of the approaching train cut her off. As they walked their bikes into the carriage Mio looked out the window, then said, ‘That’s funny. He’s gone. Disappeared.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘Pfffft!’

  Bryce leaned his bike against the wall and peered out the window, too. ‘He couldn’t have caught a train,’ he said.

  Mio shook her head. ‘None came from that direction.’

  ‘Where’d he go then?’ asked Bryce.

  Mio did one more check out the window, then said with a shrug, ‘Who knows?’

  The train lurched as it moved off. Kids and bikes flew everywhere.

  ‘Steady!’ said Darcy, reaching for Clem’s bike and catching it before it toppled over. He and Mio studied the map on the wall of the carriage. ‘It’s an all-stations,’ said Darcy, following the route with his finger. ‘That means six stops.’ Time dragged till they reached their station.

  Clem counted her money, worried that she wouldn’t have enough to free the dog. She thought about how she’d been saving for a dog for ages and how her dream might finally come true. ‘Braxxby!’ announced Clem, leaping for her bike and the door. ‘This is it.’

  They filed out of the carriage, wheeling their bikes as they headed for the exit, weaving around other passengers. At the gate Darcy asked the woman collecting the tickets, ‘Do you know how to get to the Braxxby Animal Shelter?’

  The woman pointed across the road, saying, ‘Cross over and head north, then take the first right.’ She curved her hand to show them. ‘It’s about two k’s down the road on the left. There’s a big sign with a puppy and a kitten on it. You can’t miss it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  They set off at a blistering pace.

  ‘Two k’s,’ panted Bryce. ‘Why couldn’t it be closer?’

  ‘Lazy bones.’ This time Clem took the lead. ‘Let’s hurry.’

  Four bodies settled close to their frames, pedals and spokes a-blur. When they got to a flat stretch, Darcy cruised past, no-handed. He called to the others, ‘Freewheeling!’

  ‘Show-off,’ said Clem with a laugh but she did the same. ‘Freewheeling.’

  Bryce whistled as he pulled his front wheel off the ground. ‘One-wheeling!’

  ‘That’s nothing,’ called Mio. ‘Watch me.’ The kids slowed down so Mio could pass. First, she pedalled hard. Then she crossed both legs across the top tube of the bike. ‘No-footed can-can.’ Next, she took one hand off the handlebars. ‘One-hander.’ The others watched with a smile. Finally, both hands came off. ‘No-footed can-can, no-hander.’ It only lasted a couple of seconds but Mio had done it. ‘Free-e-e-e-wheeling!’

  As they pulled up at the shelter Darcy checked his watch. ‘Shuts in twenty-five minutes,’ he said.

  He hopped off his bike, leaned it against a low hedge, then unclipped his helmet and hooked it over the handlebars. The others did the same. Once the bikes were resting side by side Darcy unwound a security chain that was wrapped around his handlebar and threaded it through the top tube and down tube of all the bikes, finishing up with a padlock and saying, ‘It pays to be cautious.’

  ‘This way,’ called Clem as she strode to the office marked ‘Reception’.

  A woman was arguing with the man behind the counter. Her voice got louder and louder as she said, ‘You’ve a hide, you have.’ Her neck wobbled when she talked. ‘It’s my dog and I want him back, now, but I’m not paying, mind. He’s only been here a few hours.’ The kids joined the queue to wait. ‘It’s not my fault he got out.’ Spit flew through the air, making Bryce duck and shuffle backwards. ‘Blame the man who built the shoddy fence!’ Five minutes later the woman was still demanding her dog back and still refusing to pay.

  ‘We’re wasting time,’ said Clem as she spotted a sign that said ‘Dog Kennels’, with an arrow pointing down a path. ‘Come on. We’ll find her ourselves.’

  The runs on either side of the path were clean, but narrow and bare. They had a concrete floor with a drain in one corner and a wooden kennel in the other. A bowl for food and another for water sat near each kennel. The walls consisted of concrete with wire mesh stretched on a metal frame.

  As the kids passed each cage the dogs hurled themselves at their wire doors as if to say, ‘Pick me. Pick me.’ The barks and yelps and whines jostled for attention. There were big dogs and little dogs, long-haired dogs and short-haired dogs.

  And they all want a home, thought Clem. ‘I wish we could free them all,’ she said, then muttered to herself, ‘Hey. That’s not a bad idea!’

  ‘Look at this one.’ Bryce walked to one cage and pointed to a medium-sized dog. ‘Look at the curve on that tail.’

  Mio took one look and a lump formed in her throat. Her eyes prickled. Slowly she approached the cage. At the gate she dropped to one knee, her fingers clinging to the wire mesh. Unlike the others, this dog did not come over to greet her. It cowered in the corner, shaking. ‘It’s a Japanese Chin.’ Mio tried to swallow the lump away. ‘In my country they are like royalty.’

  She turned back to the dog and asked, ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ The dog’s hair, once silky, was now matted and dull. Its eyes were wary. ‘You’re a long way from home.’ Mio’s voice trailed off as she stared through the wire.

  ‘Far from home, all alone.’ Bryce stopped. He couldn’t remember the next lyric. ‘Mio?’ he asked. ‘Do you miss Japan?’

  Mio’s shoulders drooped as she mumbled, ‘Yes.’ With her head bowed she continued down the path after Clem. ‘No matter how long we’re here, at times I still feel empty.’

  Bryce fell in beside her. ‘I feel empty sometimes, too. And I was born here!’

  Mio stopped, closed her eyes and softly recited, ‘As a mirror’s polished surface reflects what stands in front of it, and a quiet valley carries the tiniest sound, so must the student of karate render their mind empty…’ Mio opened her eyes and smiled. ‘In karate empty is a good thing.’

&nbs
p; Bryce smiled back then said, ‘I’ll remember that.’

  Together they continued down the path. They passed yappy dogs and dogs that shied away, younger ones that wanted to play and older ones happy to be left to snooze in a corner.

  ‘Another bitsa,’ said Darcy as they pulled up at a dog that had a labrador body with red setter colouring.

  ‘What do you mean, bitsa?’ Mio frowned as she inspected the dog. ‘I haven’t heard of one of them.’

  ‘Bitsa this and bitsa that,’ said Darcy with a grin. ‘Not a pure-bred. More like a hy-bred. Hybrid. Get it?’

  All of a sudden a howl shredded the air. It started deeply then swelled to a shrill cry. It soared and swooped and soared again, like music.

  ‘It’s her!’ Tears welled in Clem’s eyes. She looked about frantically, saying, ‘Where’s it coming from?’ As quickly as it started it stopped. Clem headed for the next row. ‘Where’s our beagle? We’ve got to find her. We’ve just got to.’

  The kids searched and searched. They went up runs and down runs. A kennel assistant gave them a funny look.

  ‘No beagles.’ Clem leaned against the last cage in the last row and said with despair, ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘Of course she’s here,’ said Darcy. He started pacing. ‘The lady told me they’d hold her so she must be here.’ The others had their own suggestions.

  ‘She could be in a separate area.’

  ‘Or maybe an exercise yard.’

  ‘She’s probably being kept at Reception.’

  ‘Let’s ask.’ Clem led them back to the front desk. The angry woman was long gone but the man was now talking into a phone, tapping his pen on the desk and looking at his watch. ‘Excuse me,’ said Clem.

  The man told the caller to ‘hang on a sec’. He looked up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We phoned yesterday about a beagle. Tri-colour.

  For Darcy Jacobs. You said you’d hold her. We’ve come to collect her.’

  ‘Gotta go, Harry. I’ll call you.’ The man hung up then ran his finger down the entries in a large work diary. ‘A beagle, you say? Tri-colour, is it?’

  ‘Yes!’ The kids edged closer, peering at the page.

  Clem bounced on her toes as she added, ‘A female.’

  ‘Foxie cross, pug, Alsatian cross.’ The man’s finger continued down the entries, then stopped. He gave a nervous cough before saying, ‘I’m afraid she’s not here.’

  ‘Not here?’ Clem stopped bouncing. ‘But she must be.’

  ‘See this,’ said the man, holding up the book and pointing to an entry that said ‘beagle’. Beside it was a big red ‘C.’ ‘That “C” means she’s gone.’

  Clem’s voice was harsh. ‘What do you mean, gone?’ She leaned over the desk to inspect the entry. ‘She was here yesterday.’

  ‘Gone. Not here today.’ The man gave an apologetic shrug, then lifted the receiver to make another call.

  ‘She can’t be!’ shouted Clem. Her voice echoed in the large waiting area. ‘We told you we had hockey yesterday afternoon and that we’d come after visiting our grandparents today. We told you.’

  ‘Not me. No.’ The man started punching in a phone number. ‘Sorry. We’re on a time limit here. Five days and that’s it.’

  ‘But it hasn’t been five days!’

  The man scratched his nostril then wiped his finger on his trousers as he said, ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But she’s gone.’

  ‘Where?’ Clem stared at the ‘C’. ‘Where’s she gone?’ With each question her voice got higher and higher. ‘Who took her?’

  ‘No-one.’ Now the man looked flushed. He stopped dialling and slowly hung up the receiver.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ snapped Clem. ‘She’s either here or she’s somewhere else.’

  ‘Not…exactly.’ Sweat dotted the man’s forehead. His eye twitched. One hand tugged at his collar.

  Darcy shivered. It was turning into a nightmare. ‘You mean you don’t know where she is?’ he asked. ‘Anyone’d think you’ve lost her.’

  ‘Oh, we haven’t lost her.’ The man shook his head. ‘No, we haven’t done that.’ He plopped into a chair, fanning his face.

  ‘Well, where is she?’ demanded Clem. She leaned over the counter, so far that she almost toppled into the reception area.

  ‘Are you sure she’s gone?’ asked Darcy. ‘Maybe you’ve made a mistake.’

  ‘No mistake. She’s gone.’ The man pointed to his book. ‘A “C” is a “C”.’

  Clem’s eyes narrowed. In a small voice she asked, ‘What exactly does the “C” stand for? Does it mean…claimed?’ The man shook his head. ‘Collected?’

  Another shake of the head.

  Then Mio stepped up to the counter. ‘What, then? What does the “C” stand for?’

  Everyone went silent. Seconds ticked past. The man opened his mouth, then closed it again until finally he squeaked, ‘Crematorium.’

  ‘No!’ Clem slammed her fist on the desk. She wanted to pound and pummel this man. ‘How could you? You said you’d keep her’ She couldn’t believe this was happening.

  Darcy, Mio and Bryce looked just as shocked.

  ‘No.’ The man’s bottom lip jutted out. He snatched a tissue from a box and began mopping his face. ‘I said no such thing.’

  Darcy butted in, saying, ‘Yesterday I spoke to a lady. She said you’d keep her till we got here. I told her we were coming today, late morning. Maybe we can speak to her. Is she here?’

  ‘Lady?’ echoed the man. ‘I know nothing about any lady.’ He hesitated, weighing each word as he spoke. ‘I’m sorry, kids. Your dog’s gone. Much as we’d like to, we can’t keep ’em all.’ He closed the diary, signalling the end to the conversation, and grabbed a set of keys. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, it’s time to lock up.’

  The kids trudged out to their bikes. Clem moved like a zombie. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘No, no, no.’ As if on cue a mournful cry filled the air, a wailing in tandem with Clem. It sounded like a dog saying, No, no, no!

  Chapter Seven

  It was mid-afternoon. The kids sat in Mr Lark’s kitchen. They watched as he scooped powdered chocolate into two mugs of milk and headed for the microwave. ‘Poor little mite,’ he said. ‘Tell me all the details after I’ve got your drinks.’ Mr Lark went to the microwave, took out one steaming mug of hot chocolate and handed it to Bryce. The other he handed to Clem. ‘Get that into you. It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘No, it won’t.’ Clem rested her head on the kitchen table, her face blotchy, eyes swollen. ‘Nothing will make me feel better except saving that beautiful dog.’

  Bryce took a sip of hot chocolate, leaving a moustache above his lip. ‘Chocolate,’ he sang. ‘Tastes so sweet.’ Then he stopped and took another sip. ‘This does help. Thanks heaps, Mr Lark. Hot chocolate’s one of my favourites.’

  ‘Want one, Mio? Darcy?’ Mr Lark was already reaching for the mugs when together they answered, ‘Yes, please.’

  Mr Lark winked as the chocolatey milk was warming. ‘Got something that might cheer you lot up.’ He reached inside the fridge and pulled out a plastic-wrapped log shape. ‘Pastry. For shortbread clusters.’

  ‘Shortbread. Yummm.’ Bryce licked the chocolate off his lips. ‘My—’

  ‘Favourite,’ finished Mio with a withering look.

  ‘I can’t help it if Mr Lark’s such a great cook,’ said Bryce, patting his tummy. ‘Everything he makes is my favourite.’

  ‘Learnt from an expert, I did,’ said Mr Lark with a smile. Taking the plastic wrap off the pastry he started cutting it into rounds, then placing them on a baking tray. ‘Mrs Lark was a mighty fine cook. Her shortbread was so good it could’ve been made in heaven.’ He looked upwards and chuckled. ‘Prob’ly still is.’

  ‘Can I have mine raw?’ asked Darcy as he reached for the uncooked pastry. ‘It’s better that way.’ He shoved the whole round in his mouth and started chewing, making nyumm, nyumm noises.

  Mio pulled a face, saying, ‘That’s disgusting.�
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  Clem gave a half-smile. She knew exactly where Darcy was coming from. ‘In our house it’s first in, best dressed. Wait for something to cook and you may as well kiss it goodbye.’

  ‘He who hesitates is lost,’ said Mr Lark. He continued to cut the log into rounds. ‘My old army sergeant told me that.’ Then he giggled. ‘After the poor bugger had his hat shot off.’

  ‘You can’t afford to hesitate in our house.’ Clem thought of that morning’s breakfast at her grandparents’ when her brothers ate every cherry blintze pancake and left her none. ‘Darcy, Jonas, Bruno, and Tim are such greedy guts.’

  ‘What about little Drew?’ asked Mio.

  ‘He’s a pig, too, but he’s still too small to be one of The Competition.’

  ‘Oh, wah!’ said Darcy, leaning over and pinching Clem’s waist. ‘You’re not exactly a skeleton.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Clem pinched Darcy back, only harder, then back-stepped to get out of his way. She laughed when he lunged and missed.

  ‘Now, now, you two. There’s plenty of mixture to go round.’ Mr Lark held up the rest of the pastry log and asked, ‘So, who wants cooked and who wants raw?’

  In less than twenty minutes he was pulling the shortbread, now golden brown, out of the oven and sliding the biscuits onto a plate. Steam swirled in mouth-watering spirals. ‘Help yourselves.’

  No-one spoke as they reached for the biscuits. The shortbread exploded with the warm taste of sugar and butter, then melted to nothingness.

  Mr Lark sampled one, too. ‘Not bad. Not as good as Mrs Lark’s, mind, but not bad.’

  ‘Mum doesn’t have time for baking,’ said Clem. She reached for a second biscuit and shoved it in her mouth, sending crumbs flying. ‘She’s hard pressed to make dinner, let alone afternoon tea.’

  ‘My mum only bakes once a year,’ said Mio with a sigh. ‘For our Girls’ Festival. She makes these diamond-shaped rice cakes called hishimochi.’ Mio picked up another piece of shortbread and shrugged. ‘The rest of the time she works.’