The Girl Who Cried Wolf(41)

I smile at Michael as he tells me we should take Pinto back to the ranch next week. A look of disappointment must show on my face because he goes on to say that I can ride him every day when I am a little steadier.

I feel very brave and say, ‘A child could ride Pinto. I want to ride Blaze,’ knowing full well that only Michael had ever ridden the flighty palomino.

‘Hmm, we’ll see,’ he tells me, not looking terribly convinced.

We pull up outside Jules’ and Eddie’s and the instant we walk through the door I know I have made a terrible mistake. It is only half past three but there are bodies everywhere, and I imagine this house has been the host to anyone not wanting to spend Christmas with their families. I shudder at the memory Jules and I had planned; to start the party on Christmas Eve and try to keep it in full swing until New Year’s Eve. It would certainly seem as though all was going to plan so far, and despite her maturity, this was not the place for my little sister.

‘Anna!’ Jules shrieks, sidestepping the pizza boxes and bottles strewn all over the floor, ‘Look, everybody, it’s Anna!’ She throws her arms around me and I cannot help but smile at my remarkably drunk friend, until she sets her sights upon Michael and my face darkens. ‘We haven’t met,’ she simpers, fluttering her crooked false eyelashes, ‘I am Juliet … Anna’s very best friend.’ I roll my eyes as she points her ample cleavage in his direction, barely concealed beneath her micro-mini dress. Jules sweeps him away to find drinks and he throws a rather worried-looking glance at me over his shoulder. I sigh disappointedly as I realise everyone is too drunk to notice how well I look, and leave Izzy fending off a boy in a blue rugby kit while I try to find Eddie.

He is collapsed on the sofa, a bottle of his favoured Ouzo in one hand and a burned out cigarette in the other. I nudge him with my foot to no avail. A girl I vaguely recognise offers me some wine, but the smell of weed and stale beer is making me feel sick, not to mention the fact I can barely see a foot in front of me due to smoke.

I find my way to the back door, failing to see Michael and Jules en-route, so I push it open for a little fresh air before I can go back and try again. The cold air hits me like a sheet of ice, but I welcome its freshening reprieve. I take a few deep gulps and think of my mother at home, with her bruised eye and swollen lip. Taking out my phone I dial our landline but she doesn’t answer, so I leave a message to say we are not staying and as soon as I find Izzy and Michael we will head back. I presume she has gone to see my grandparents after all, as she had wanted us to this afternoon, and I felt a little cross that I thought this party would be more fun than going to visit them.

I take a few more breaths and am about to head back inside when the most desolate cry I have heard makes me stop and turn back around.

From the height of the little back yard terrace, I can see over the fence to Jules’ miserable neighbour’s garden, and tied to the washing line is a bereft-looking dog with moulted and matted fur. He is painfully thin and howls a little more loudly before cowering against the yard wall, as a man comes out and promptly kicks his hind quarters. I am about to shout in protest but the sound catches in my throat and I stand absolutely still in shocked silence as the man curls his lip and actually growls at the dog, making it back further away. He raises his hand so the animal flinches, and then staggers back to the house, slamming the door behind him.

I cannot believe what I’ve just seen, and watch while my heart aches as the dog turns in circles trying to find comfort on the freezing concrete floor. He eventually flops down and another yelp escapes him as his hind leg must have been quite hurt. I look around the yard and see there is no food or water bowl, and he has no shelter from the bitter wind that promised snow through the night.

I take one last look and thank God that the first person I see in the kitchen is Michael. ‘Anna, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ I push past him but grab his hand so I don’t lose him again. ‘Where’s Izzy?’

‘She’s in the car outside, said she refused to stay a moment longer and to go and fetch you pronto.’

I grab a bottle of brandy from the sideboard and down a couple of glugs as Michael looks at me with a surprised expression.

‘Dutch courage,’ I tell him. ‘Listen to me, this might sound strange but I need you to do something for me.’ His handsome face looks dubious and I begin to have second thoughts. I look up at him and remember everything we’ve been through and consider that perhaps I should be focusing on the two of us and not rescuing neglected animals. I sigh inwardly and tell him, ‘Ignore me. It doesn’t matter …’ I shake my head and lead him to the front door where Izzy is waiting in the car, looking uncharacteristically cross.

‘Don’t say it!’ I hold my hands up as I slide into the passenger seat while Michael takes the wheel. ‘We should have gone to Granny’s, I know. Let’s just head there now, I think Mother has already gone.’

Izzy does not say anything as Michael pulls out onto the city streets. I wait until we are halfway home, almost approaching the country lanes, before I tell him to turn back around. He stares at me dumbfounded until I breathlessly tell them about the dog, at which point my beloved three-point-turns us back towards the city.

My sister has always been a rescuer of waifs and strays. Of course Mother would never in a thousand years let us keep the poor animal, but if we could just get him home she might let us keep him in the shed for a day or two until Michael can take him to the ranch.