Everyone round Senara goes to Granny Carne when they have a trouble they can’t solve. I think of Granny Carne’s amber, piercing eyes and the power in her. She’ll know what’s wrong with Sadie. She’ll help her if anyone can.
At the same moment I hear the growl of a bus engine, changing gear at the bottom of the hill . I look back, and there is a shabby blue bus with SENARA CHURCHTOWN on the destination board. Home. I stick out my hand.
The bus lumbers past without stopping. The driver turns to me and yells something I can’t hear. Then, as he gets toward the top of the hill , I see he’s pulling in at the bus stop to wait for me.
“Can’t stop on the hill , see,” he says as I climb up the steps, pushing Sadie ahead of me. “Lucky for you I’m ahead of myself this morning.”
“Thanks for waiting.”
“I could see that poor old dog couldn’t hardly get up Geevor.”
I find my fare and go to the back of the bus. He thought Sadie was old. That must be because she looks so weak.
I flop down on the backseat, with Sadie at my feet. The driver pulls out onto the road again and picks up speed. On we go past the gray stone houses, past the rugby ground and the RV site, past the farm at the edge of town and to the crossroads where the school bus turns left. This bus turns right, onto the open road that leads across the moors to Senara. A streak of pale wintry sun lights up the hill s. The landscape opens wide and beautiful around us. I take a deep breath of freedom. No crowds, no busy streets. Just a narrow gray road rising over the wild country toward home.
CHAPTER FOUR
W hen the old blue bus drives off into the distance, leaving me at the roadside with Sadie, the reality of what I’ve done hits me. This is the stop before Senara Churchtown and the nearest stop to Granny Carne’s cottage. There are no houses here, only the road and the hill s covered in bracken, furze, and heather. There’s a wide black scar across the hill s, from a gorse fire.
No one is about. The road is gray and empty. But that’s what I wanted, isn’t it? I didn’t want to see anyone I knew. If I walk along the road a little way, there’s a footpath that leads up to Granny Carne’s cottage.
“Come on, Sadie,” I say encouragingly. “It’s not far now.” This time Sadie doesn’t respond to my voice. She slumps on the rough grass between the road and the ditch, drops her head onto her paws, and closes her eyes.
“Sadie!”
Very slowly, with what looks like a great effort, Sadie opens her eyes. They stare at me dull y, without recognition.
After a few blank moments her lids close again.
Terror runs through me like an electric shock. I think she’s dead. I throw myself down on the grass beside her and press my ear to her side. I can’t hear anything. She’s gone. It is so terrible that I can’t move or speak. And then, very slowly, her ribs move under her skin. There’s a rusty, tearing sound in her throat, as if she’s trying to breathe through barbed wire. But she’s breathing. She’s alive.
It’s all my fault. I should never have forced her up Geevor Hil . Now she can’t even walk. She can hardly breathe. What am I going to do? I look wildly up and down the road. No one’s in sight. A sparrow hops out of a furze bush, cocks its head at me, then hops away again.
“Sadie!” I try to lift her into my lap. She’s heavy, limp, and hard to move. But she’s warm. She’s alive. “Hold on, Sadie.
I’ll get help for you. I promise. Please, please don’t die.” But how can I get help? If only I had a mobile phone. But even if I had, it would be no good here. Everyone in Senara complains that they can’t get a signal. Phone box. There’s a phone box down by the church. How long would it take me to run there? Ten minutes maybe, and then I’d have to make the call , and then another ten minutes back. That’s too long.
If I leave
At the same moment I hear the growl of a bus engine, changing gear at the bottom of the hill . I look back, and there is a shabby blue bus with SENARA CHURCHTOWN on the destination board. Home. I stick out my hand.
The bus lumbers past without stopping. The driver turns to me and yells something I can’t hear. Then, as he gets toward the top of the hill , I see he’s pulling in at the bus stop to wait for me.
“Can’t stop on the hill , see,” he says as I climb up the steps, pushing Sadie ahead of me. “Lucky for you I’m ahead of myself this morning.”
“Thanks for waiting.”
“I could see that poor old dog couldn’t hardly get up Geevor.”
I find my fare and go to the back of the bus. He thought Sadie was old. That must be because she looks so weak.
I flop down on the backseat, with Sadie at my feet. The driver pulls out onto the road again and picks up speed. On we go past the gray stone houses, past the rugby ground and the RV site, past the farm at the edge of town and to the crossroads where the school bus turns left. This bus turns right, onto the open road that leads across the moors to Senara. A streak of pale wintry sun lights up the hill s. The landscape opens wide and beautiful around us. I take a deep breath of freedom. No crowds, no busy streets. Just a narrow gray road rising over the wild country toward home.
CHAPTER FOUR
W hen the old blue bus drives off into the distance, leaving me at the roadside with Sadie, the reality of what I’ve done hits me. This is the stop before Senara Churchtown and the nearest stop to Granny Carne’s cottage. There are no houses here, only the road and the hill s covered in bracken, furze, and heather. There’s a wide black scar across the hill s, from a gorse fire.
No one is about. The road is gray and empty. But that’s what I wanted, isn’t it? I didn’t want to see anyone I knew. If I walk along the road a little way, there’s a footpath that leads up to Granny Carne’s cottage.
“Come on, Sadie,” I say encouragingly. “It’s not far now.” This time Sadie doesn’t respond to my voice. She slumps on the rough grass between the road and the ditch, drops her head onto her paws, and closes her eyes.
“Sadie!”
Very slowly, with what looks like a great effort, Sadie opens her eyes. They stare at me dull y, without recognition.
After a few blank moments her lids close again.
Terror runs through me like an electric shock. I think she’s dead. I throw myself down on the grass beside her and press my ear to her side. I can’t hear anything. She’s gone. It is so terrible that I can’t move or speak. And then, very slowly, her ribs move under her skin. There’s a rusty, tearing sound in her throat, as if she’s trying to breathe through barbed wire. But she’s breathing. She’s alive.
It’s all my fault. I should never have forced her up Geevor Hil . Now she can’t even walk. She can hardly breathe. What am I going to do? I look wildly up and down the road. No one’s in sight. A sparrow hops out of a furze bush, cocks its head at me, then hops away again.
“Sadie!” I try to lift her into my lap. She’s heavy, limp, and hard to move. But she’s warm. She’s alive. “Hold on, Sadie.
I’ll get help for you. I promise. Please, please don’t die.” But how can I get help? If only I had a mobile phone. But even if I had, it would be no good here. Everyone in Senara complains that they can’t get a signal. Phone box. There’s a phone box down by the church. How long would it take me to run there? Ten minutes maybe, and then I’d have to make the call , and then another ten minutes back. That’s too long.
If I leave
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