The Runaways, page 10
When Tara saw what Beatrix was doing she wanted to have another go at painting too. She came over and took the paintbrush from her and dabbed it at the canvas to create her own splodgy painting on top of Beatrix’s, but Beatrix didn’t mind.
Mr Heelis came over to say hello and Tara ruffled his hair with her trunk. Beatrix laughed as he tried to flatten his messed up hair back down again.
‘She does that to me all the time,’ AJ said.
Tara made her squeeing trumpet sound.
‘She sounds just like she’s laughing when she makes that noise,’ Yolanda said, shaking her head.
‘Reminds me of a happy pig squeal,’ Beatrix smiled.
‘Beautiful day for the fete,’ Mr Jones said.
‘And a very special day,’ said Mr Heelis.
‘What’s going to happen to Shanti and Tara now that the war’s over?’ Beatrix asked Mr Jones. ‘Will they go back to the circus?’
‘I hope not,’ Mr Jones said. ‘Thousands of people live peacefully side-by-side with elephants in Ceylon. There’s no reason why we can’t do so in Stony Oakhill.’
He’d written to Albert to offer him a job and a cottage on the farm, but Albert was still over in the Middle East and he hadn’t heard back from him yet.
‘I want them to stay here for ever,’ said Yolanda.
‘Me too,’ said AJ.
‘Stony Oakhill would be a much less interesting place without its elephants,’ Annie said as she headed towards the fancy-dress parade wearing a long purple cloak.
‘But they’ll be taking the jobs of the horses,’ said a man eating a hot pasty. A bit of it broke off and fell on the grass. Quick as a flash Harvey gobbled it up.
‘When the horses come back, if any of them do ever get to come home, they deserve a jolly good feed and a long rest,’ said a soldier with his arm in a sling. ‘You haven’t seen what they’ve been through, but I have.’ And he shuddered at the horrific images in his head. ‘Let the elephants do the horses’ work for them for a little while. They’ve done enough.’
‘Will Noodles and the horses come back soon?’ Yolanda asked her dad. She was sure Tara, Shanti and Harvey would love her, and Buttercup and Bluebell, as much as she did.
‘I hope so,’ Mr Jones said, although he really didn’t know.
Beatrix judged the best Herdwick sheep contest. But the judge for the fancy-dress competition hadn’t arrived and Mr Jones was asked if he’d like to do it.
Mr Jones looked over at all the villagers in costume. Plus Annie and the other women from the Land Army who’d really gone to town with what little they could find up at the hostel. It was going to be very hard to judge.
‘Why don’t we let Shanti choose instead?’ he said.
Everyone lined up and Shanti walked down the row of people in costume and back again.
She stopped at Annie, who was dressed as a queen with a wooden sceptre. She had an elaborate berry crown on her head, which Shanti proceeded to eat.
‘I think we have a winner,’ Mr Jones said and Annie was presented with the prize.
‘I never usually win anything,’ she said, her face beaming with delight.
‘Did you hear that Houdini’s touring again?’ Beatrix asked her husband as Gwen, wearing her Sunday best clothes, sat down at an upright honky-tonk piano and started to play.
‘Is he indeed?’ said Mr Heelis. ‘Well, I hope he won’t be making an elephant vanish like he did in New York last year.’
‘I don’t think he’ll be able to,’ Beatrix smiled. ‘He’d need a big venue like the Hippodrome to do that trick again.’
‘Good. Having Tara go missing was more than enough for me. I don’t want to see any other elephants vanish.’
Tara headed over to the sound of the music coming from the piano and Shanti followed her and watched as her daughter plonked her trunk on the keys to join in.
AJ pulled the harmonica from his pocket and headed over to Shanti.
‘Here, Shanti. Show Tara what you can do,’ he said, holding the harmonica out to her. Shanti blew on it with her trunk and, of course, Tara then wanted to have a go on that too.
For most people, the highlight of the day was the much anticipated football match between the villagers and the Land Army girls.
‘Come on, Shanti,’ AJ said, as he led her to her spot between the goal posts with the help of a carrot. Then he and Yolanda found a spot at the front of the crowd to watch the match.
Tara had picked up her long bunting ribbon again and was swinging it around when the whistle blew for the game to begin. When she and Harvey saw the ball and the players running after it they both raced to join in. Harvey might be old, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to play or that he couldn’t outrun the human footballers.
‘Join in!’ Annie shouted as she ran past AJ and Yolanda.
Yolanda pointed to herself and looked round. Surely she couldn’t mean her.
‘Yes, you!’ Annie yelled.
And Yolanda laughed as she ran on to the pitch and went careering after the ball with the other women and girls from the WLA.
It was impossible to try and keep Shanti in goal because she wanted to chase after the ball too, and so the other players took it in turns to try and stop the ball from going into the net.
Tara had the ball and was running down the pitch pushing it in front of her with Harvey barking at her heels.
‘That’s it, Tara!’ a familiar voice shouted.
At the sound of the voice, the little elephant stopped dead, raised her trunk, made her happy squee sound and ran to find its owner. Shanti came at a quick trundle behind her leaving the two teams looking confused.
‘You’re looking good, Shanti,’ the stranger to the village said when the elephants reached him. Shanti raised her trunk and trumpeted loudly into the sky.
Harvey sniffed and whined. He hadn’t smelt this smell for a long time and although it was different somehow from the way it used to be, underneath it was still the same. He ran towards the man as Yolanda watched him.
When all the animals reached Albert, Tara took off his hat with her trunk so she could ruffle his hair like she used to. Albert pressed his face against Shanti’s and looked into her eyes. Then he crouched down to Harvey, who wagged his tail so hard it looked as if it might fall off, and all the time he gave little puppyish cries and licked Albert’s face as if finally today all his wishes had come true.
The two elephants squeed and made rumbling sounds as if they were telling him all that had happened, whilst touching him gently with their trunks to welcome him home.
Yolanda and AJ came shyly forward, their father wheeling himself behind them. Annie came running over too, her face flushed from all the running about.
‘You’ve looked after them so well, thank you,’ Albert said, dashing away a tear so Annie wouldn’t see it.
‘I was wondering when we’d finally see you,’ Annie said.
‘You won’t ever take them away, will you?’ said AJ.
‘We’ve got your cottage all ready for you,’ said Yolanda.
Mr Jones grasped Albert’s hand and shook it. ‘There’s a job here if you want it.’
‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’ Albert smiled. The Camel Corps had been disbanded in May, and as soon as it had been he’d left the Middle East and come home. All he wanted was to be with his animals, Shanti, Tara and Harvey, and he never ever wanted to go away again.
Epilogue
Albert was never the least bit tempted to go back to the circus, especially when he saw how much happier the elephants were now. Shanti and Tara slept in the barn and came and went as they liked. They had the farm to wander in and the duck pond to bathe in, acres of forest behind them and the Lake District in front. The small cottage Mr Jones had given him was perfect, but Albert didn’t sleep in it most nights. Instead he and Harvey slept in the barn with the elephants.
There were so few horses now that Albert and Annie and the elephants were kept busy helping out on all the farms. If Albert needed the elephants to work and wasn’t sure where they were he just rang a bell and they always came back. One day, six months after he’d come home from the war, the ringmaster came to see Albert, but he couldn’t even get up the path to the cottage as Shanti, Tara and Harvey blocked his way.
‘I’m thinking of starting the circus again if you’re interested in signing up,’ the ringmaster shouted from the gate to Albert. ‘We used to make a good team.’
But Albert shook his head. The elephants and Harvey could perform at the village fete if they wanted to. Or just eat the apples people gave them anyway even if they didn’t.
Yolanda and AJ were at Albert’s cottage one June day when a gypsy caravan stopped at the gate. When she saw it, Tara immediately gave a delighted squee and went hurrying over to say hello. Harvey woke up from dozing in the sun and followed her, his tail wagging.
Tara touched Ezra, Sadie and their grandmother’s hair gently with her trunk and squeed once again.
‘She travelled on the road with us for a while,’ Sadie explained to Albert, Yolanda and AJ. ‘She and the dog.’
‘Fed her some hay porridge mixed with honey, but what she really needed was her mum,’ the grandmother said.
Ezra looked up at Shanti towering over them all and stretched out his hand to stroke her.
‘I’m so glad she found you,’ he said, as Harvey pushed his head under his hand for a stroke too.
Albert smiled. ‘So you’re the ones we have to thank,’ he said. ‘Without your kindness Tara probably wouldn’t be alive. Are you staying in the village?’
Ezra shook his head. ‘We pass this way going to or coming from the Appleby horse fair every year,’ he told them.
‘Then you should come back to see us every year,’ Yolanda said, and AJ and Albert nodded as Ezra and Sadie grinned at each other.
‘We will,’ they said.
Harvey didn’t follow Tara wherever she went now she had Shanti to watch over her. He liked to lie in the warm sunspot by the front door during the day when it was warm and next to Albert on the sofa, with his head resting on Albert’s knee, when it wasn’t.
‘You’re a good dog you are,’ Albert said, as he stroked Harvey’s old furry head and Harvey pressed his face to him. ‘A very good dog indeed.’
From outside they could hear Shanti’s gentle rumblings and Tara’s happy trumpeting squee. Harvey’s tail thumped up and down and he licked Albert’s face.
Afterword
As soon as I heard about Lizzie the Sheffield elephant I knew I wanted to write a story about an elephant in the First World War. I decided to have my elephant helping on the home front and on a farm after reading in the newspaper archives about an elephant who went to live and work on a farm in 1901. The man bought the elephant at a circus auction and initially thought he would start his own circus with her. But when he found out how good she was at working on the farm he changed his mind. He never did start a circus, but he did keep the elephant, whom he described as gentle and docile.
When I started my research for this book I didn’t know what a journey it would take me on as I discovered more and more about these amazing animals. I was horrified and appalled when I learnt about some of the cruel ways they’ve been treated and are still being treated today. But also uplifted and given hope by the many stories of human kindness and elephant awesomeness. All the things the elephants do in the book are based on the discoveries I made during my research.
I’ve taken liberties with some of the real life human characters who were around at the time. Beatrix Potter lived in Near Sawrey, close to Windermere, and was Mrs Heelis by 1917. In her journal and her letters to children she describes visiting the circus both in Scotland and the Lake District. She went on to publish The Fairy Caravan featuring a pigmy (pig dressed up) elephant. Edward Elgar was a great admirer of the Lake District, although, of course, he never met a piano-playing elephant there. And Harry Houdini did create a Vanishing Elephant trick, which was first performed in 1918.
The Appleby Horse Fair was granted a Royal Charter in 1685 and is still held each year in June at Appleby-in-Westmorland, Cumbria.
Acknowledgements
There are many people involved in making a book happen and be the best it can be possibly be. This one owes a debt of gratitude to a host of Puffins, including editors supreme Anthea Catchpole and Bella Pearson, copy-editors Samantha Stewart and Julia Bruce, cover designer and illustrator Richard Jones and Becky Morrison. On the PR side there’s been Rhiannon Winfield and now Laura Smythe plus Jessica Farrugia-Sharples, marketing managers Gemma Rostill and Hannah Moloco, and sales sensations Tineke Mollemans and Kirsty Bradbury. Not forgetting my lovely agent, Clare Pearson at Eddison Pearson.
As ever my dogs, Traffy and Bella, who were part of my book tour and made a brief appearance with me on stage at the Hay Festival, inspire all my work, keep me company on late-night writing bouts, accompany me on long walks and participate whenever possible in my research trips. Thanks to my brilliant husband being home whilst much of this book was written I was also able to leave the dogs in his caring hands whilst I headed out to do my research at places where dogs were not welcome.
Last, but by no means least, my heartfelt thanks must go to the many schoolchildren who responded so enthusiastically to my stories of Lizzie the Sheffield elephant and gave a resounding thumbs up to the idea of a book about an elephant on a farm in the First World War.
Here it is and I hope you enjoy it.
If you would like to...
Turn the page for an extract from
The Bomber Dog
by
Megan Rix
Megan Rix
THE BOMBER DOG
Close to the white cliffs of Dover, a little German Shepherd puppy cowered away from the seagulls that circled menacingly above him. He’d tried to run away from the birds but they were bigger and faster than he was. He’d barked at them but the seagulls’ cries only seemed to mock his high puppy yap.
Molly, a honey-coated spaniel, spotted the puppy and the gulls near the docks. She barked and ran at the large, sharp-beaked birds, scattering them into the drizzly sky of the early February morning. The gulls dodged the silver barrage balloons that floated high in the air, and circled to land on the warships anchored in the harbour, screeching in protest. But they didn’t return.
Once they’d gone, the rain-soaked, floppy-eared, sable-coated puppy came over to his rescuer, whimpering and trembling with fear and cold. Molly licked his blue-eyed face to reassure him and he nuzzled into her. His pitiful cries were gradually calming but his desperate hunger remained.
Molly used her nose to knock over a glass bottle of milk that the milkman had just left at the Dover harbour master’s door. The bottle smashed and the puppy’s little pink tongue lapped thirstily at the milk that flowed on to the ground.
‘Get away from that!’ the milkman yelled angrily, when he saw the puppy drinking. His boot kicked out at him, only narrowly missing the puppy’s little legs. Molly barked at the milkman and she and the pup ran off together with the milkman’s furious shouts still ringing in their ears.
The smell of the sea and the reek of the oil from the ships grew fainter as they ran, but the small dog wasn’t strong enough to run for very long yet, and they slowed to a walk as soon as they left the docks. Molly led the puppy through the outskirts of Dover to her den, a derelict garden shed at the edge of the allotments. There was sacking on the floor, it had a solid waterproof roof, and as an added bonus, every now and again a foolish rat or mouse would enter the shed – only to be pounced on and eagerly gulped down.
The tired puppy sank down on the sacking and immediately fell fast asleep, exhausted from the morning’s excitement. Britain was in the grip of the Second World War, and Dover was a crucially important port, constantly filled with the hustle and bustle of ships and soldiers, but the puppy was blissfully unaware of all that.
Molly lay down too, her head resting on her paws, but she didn’t sleep; she watched over her new companion.
Only a few weeks ago, Molly had been a much-loved pet, until a bomb had hit the house she lived in.
She remembered her owner being put on a stretcher and rushed to hospital, but Molly herself hadn’t been found. She’d stayed hidden amid the rubble, shaking uncontrollably, too traumatized to make a sound.
She’d stayed in exactly the same spot for the rest of the night, covered in debris, too scared to sleep. At dawn she’d crawled out of her hiding place and taken her first tentative steps towards the shattered window and the world outside, alone.
The puppy snuffled in his sleep and Molly licked him gently until he settled. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of lost and abandoned dogs in Dover but at least she and this baby Alsatian had found each other.
For the first few weeks, the puppy stayed as close to Molly as he could, never allowing the two of them to get more than a few steps apart. Wherever she went he followed her, not wanting to be left alone again, even for a moment.
Every night they lay close together on the sacking and kept each other warm, listening to the bomber planes as they flew overhead on their way to London and other cities.
As the weeks turned into months, and winter turned into spring and then summer, the bomber planes and the bombs they dropped became so commonplace that they no longer woke Molly or her young friend, curled up together in the shed.
Now one year old, the German Shepherd was no longer the vulnerable puppy he’d once been, but Molly still licked his furry sable head to soothe him when he twitched and cried out in his sleep. He still had the same piercing blue eyes he’d had as a young puppy, but one of his ears now stood straight up, while the other still flopped down. With Molly’s care and love he’d grown fast and he was now much larger and stronger than her, but she was still definitely the leader of their two-dog pack.
Their first priority each day was always to find food – and the most delicious food in the world, just waiting for a dog to help himself, was in the pig bins.
