Pip and Houdini Read online

  ‘All right, dear?’ The soft-footed librarian came up so quietly behind her, Pip jumped a mile.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m, um, waiting for someone.’

  ‘You really shouldn’t be out so late on your own. I’m off home but I can wait with you for a few minutes.’

  Pip improvised. ‘Thanks, but they’ll be here soon. Actually, could you tell me how to get to a place called The Hound Pound?’

  ‘Goodness me, they won’t be open tonight, dear.’

  ‘I know, it’s just…’ Pip couldn’t think of an explanation that made sense.

  ‘Ah, I see, you’re hoping for a dog for Christmas.’

  Pip nodded.

  ‘Well, it’s good to know you want to give a home to an animal that needs it. Tell your parents that the pound is on St John Street, next left, around the bend and carry on to the lights. Turn right and continue on until you see the sign.’ She looked away as a car turned into the street. ‘That must be your lift. Goodnight!’

  ‘Bye,’ Pip replied. ‘Thank you!’ She pretended to approach the car, and when she turned around the librarian was getting on the bicycle propped up against the library wall.

  She glanced back at Pip, who waved, and then cycled away, passing the car coming the other way without looking back.

  With a sigh of relief, Pip set off for the pound, tensing every time a car passed, but no one noticed her, or if they did, they didn’t stop. She turned into St John Street and walked up the hill and around the bend. She was very tired by the time she reached the traffic lights, and it was late on what seemed like an endless day, but she didn’t stop to rest, not even for a minute.

  By the time she arrived at a big sign that read ‘The Hound Pound’, her feet were on fire but she was relieved. In a few minutes, she and Houdini would be back together, they would find somewhere to sleep, and tomorrow they’d be back on their way.

  The sign listed opening hours for people wanting to give a home to an abandoned dog or cat, the same hours given in the phone message. As she walked down the drive towards the pound, she could hear the dogs – howling, yowling, yipping, snapping, growling – almost like an orchestra in which each musician was playing a different tune. It hurt her ears.

  A little further along, a huge barn rose ominously out of the darkness, and Pip’s steps slowed. It looked like a prison for dogs, and when she finally slid the bolt open and stepped inside, there was nothing to change her first impression.

  The lights were on low and she could make out a long row of cages in which the dogs were kept. Hurrying towards it, she realised there were more rows of cages behind the first; she counted seven in all.

  Pip peered into the first, and then – crash! She nearly screamed, backing off in fright as a black snarling face, teeth bared, smashed into the door.

  Her heart leaping in fright, she stood well back as she glanced into the others along the first row, one by one. The second dog was tiny and pitiful, cowering at the back of its enclosure as the first dog continued to snap and snarl next door. Next, Pip saw a chubby dog with a beautiful dark cream coat and a lolling tongue wagging its tail. A squat dog, its body covered in folds of skin, followed, and then a poodle and a dog that looked like a wolf. There was almost every type of dog in the pound, Pip discovered as she moved along the rows. Every sort of dog except the Houdini kind. Where was he?

  She stopped to let a small shaggy dog sniff her fingers through the cage door, crouching down to give it a scratch.

  ‘Good dog,’ she told it. ‘I hope you find a nice new home soon.’

  It woofed as she walked away, and began to cry. Pip felt terrible, but she had to find Houdini. In case she’d missed him, she’d better check all the cages again.

  She eventually found him in a corridor off the barn, in a crate next to a larger one containing a big black dog that was fast asleep. ‘Late pick-ups’, said a scrawled sign on top of the crates.

  Houdini opened one eye when she said his name, and sniffed. He did not look impressed with his current accommodation or with her.

  ‘Sorry, Houdini,’ she whispered. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll have you out of there as soon as I find the key to the padlock.’

  She crept on down the corridor, pausing outside the door to an office. A light was on low and she could see rows of keys hanging on the wall, but the door was locked. Desperate, she rattled and pulled on the handle, but the door didn’t budge. She looked for something to break the window in the door and found an empty animal crate. With all her strength, she hurled it at the door, but it simply thudded to the ground without even cracking the glass.

  Shaking from tiredness and frustration, Pip returned to Houdini and sank down by his crate. The only thing she could do now was to wait until someone opened the office, and hope it was early enough that they could catch their train.

  Pip tried desperately to stay awake, but shortly after the clock down in the town struck midnight, her eyes closed and her head slumped against the crate. It seemed as though she’d only been asleep for a few minutes when a loud clank startled her awake. She sat bolt upright, blinking at the light creeping in around the barn door, which was sliding open.

  Heart in her mouth, she sprang up and crouched behind the crates. Houdini and the big black dog woke, and the black dog barked in alarm.

  Brisk footsteps approached, and Pip’s heart nearly stopped. At any moment, she would be discovered and it would be all over. A second, lighter step sounded and then a woman spoke.

  ‘I got a text last night. Council rangers dropped off a couple of late animals, poor things,’ she said. ‘Both just abandoned, apparently. Neither of them chipped.’

  ‘Well, I hope someone likes the look of them or we both know what’s going to happen,’ a man replied.

  The woman sighed. ‘Always too many dogs and not enough space. After Christmas, it will be worse when people realise they don’t have the time to look after a dog properly.’

  ‘The black one’s a handsome fella. I expect someone will take a shine to him. But the funny-looking grey…I don’t hold out much hope for him.’ With his finger, he drew a sinister, imaginary line across his throat. ‘Reckon he’s for the chop, poor thing.’

  Fear sent icy fingers down Pip’s spine. Would they really abduct Houdini only to kill him because he was a bit odd-looking? But she didn’t have time to dwell on that because keys were rattling and padlocks were being opened, and she knew she had to act now or it would be too late.

  The woman said, ‘I’ll get them out of these crates and settled, while you open the—’ She gasped and backed up as Pip sprang out from her hiding place. ‘What the—’

  ‘Run for it, Houdini,’ Pip yelled, and Houdini responded, the first time she’d ever seen him move faster than a lazy trot. He bounded right out of the crate and into Pip’s arms.

  The uniformed woman and man seemed frozen with shock, but she didn’t have time to give them more than a brief glance as she sprinted for the main door.

  ‘Hey, you! What are you doing? Wait!’ The woman suddenly launched herself towards the fleeing pair, followed by the man. But Pip was out the door and running hard for the road. She didn’t stop, except once to put Houdini down and loop his lead over his head. Then they were both racing down the hill as if their lives depended on it, which in Houdini’s case it probably did.

  When she heard a car behind them, she ran even harder, but the car didn’t stop. The clock struck eight as they burst into the station. If her luck held just a moment longer they’d be on the train and away.

  For once it did, although only just. To avoid any chance of being stopped, she got yesterday’s ticket from her pocket and dumped Houdini in her backpack despite his grumbling growl.

  ‘No choice. Sorry, Houdini!’ she panted.

  Gripping the heavy pack, she swung it up and stumbled for the train. The doors slid shut, the train shuddered and they were away.

  THE RED DOOR

  No one on the train seemed to notice
that the backpack at the feet of the skinny kid crammed by the window seemed to be alive, moving of its own accord until Houdini settled down.

  It was an agonisingly slow journey, as the train stopped at every tiny station along the tracks. Pip’s stomach did cartwheels the whole way. She tried to imagine what Cass would say and do, whether she would be pleased or shocked to see Pip, or even a bit scared.

  It didn’t worry Pip if Cass didn’t think she could take care of her; Pip could take care of them both. After all, she had looked after Sully when he got sick and frail. She had raised money for rehab after his stroke, even though he’d died before he could get there. Somehow, Pip would make it work, and they would live happily ever after like in all the best books.

  The time she’d spent with Frankie had perhaps slowed her down a little, but in a strange way, it had also given her a better understanding of how her mother might have felt ten years ago, upset about the mistakes she’d made and not sure what to do next or where to turn for help.

  If Cass was anything like Frankie – rebellious and defiant on the outside, but just as scared as anyone else on the inside – Pip knew she could cope. She would be strong enough for both of them.

  Holding on to this thought, she got off the train at the town where Cassandra lived, full of confidence that things would work out. First, though, she had to find the house with the red door.

  It was late on a golden summer morning when Pip walked out of the station into the pretty little town with a river running through it. It was decorated for Christmas – not much more than two weeks away – and bustling with shoppers. As she let Houdini out of the backpack, Pip thought she would be very happy to live here with Cass, as long as there was a school with teachers as good as Mr Blair from Spring Hill Public and kids as nice as Matilda.

  As methodically as they could, they scoured the streets around the town centre, walking up one and down another, searching for the red door. Pip did her best to remember each street so they didn’t end up going over old ground.

  The afternoon was half gone when they stopped for a snack before continuing their search. Just before evening fell, the sun was in her eyes and she almost walked right past the house, but there it was, on the other side of the street. She was sure of it. The red door had a little window in it, which she remembered from the Facebook photo.

  At the moment, the door was closed, and she couldn’t see any movement inside.

  Pip stood looking at the house for a long time. Everything she’d wanted for so long was just metres away. All she had to do was walk across the street and knock on that red door, Cass would open it and things would be all right.

  Taking her faltering courage in both hands, she did just that. Her palms were slippery with sweat, and she felt light-headed at the thought that her mother was just beyond that door. After ten years – her whole life – without her mother, Pip would see her, speak to her, perhaps even be hugged by her.

  ‘It’s okay, Houdini,’ she told him, her hands shaking as she tied his lead to the fence separating the footpath from a tidy front yard full of flowers. ‘We’ve made it and everything will be okay.’

  Houdini wagged his tail encouragingly.

  Before she could change her mind, she walked up the path, past a rather shabby car parked in the driveway, to the red door and pressed the doorbell. Footsteps clattered towards the door and Pip heard a man’s voice call out. ‘Don’t you open that door, Jake! I’m coming, just wait a second.’

  A moment later it was pulled open about two centimetres. Pip found herself staring down at a dark-blond, apple-cheeked boy of about four, his mouth smeared with chocolate.

  ‘Hello,’ the boy said. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m…’ Pip’s voice failed and she had to clear her throat.

  ‘I thought you were my mummy,’ the boy added. ‘She’s late. Sometimes she forgets her key.’

  Heavier footsteps sounded behind him. ‘Jake! I told you to wait a minute!’

  ‘You said to wait a second, and I did, Dad!’ the little boy replied. ‘I only opened it a very little bit. It’s not Mummy.’

  The door opened fully to reveal a sandy-haired man wearing a frazzled expression and a rumpled business suit, and carrying a baby.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Who’s this?’

  Pip began again. ‘I’m looking for…’ She stumbled to a halt as her eyes slid over a large, framed black-and-white photo on the wall to the left of the man’s head. It showed a couple holding hands, looking as if it was the happiest day of their lives. In it, the same man who now stood in the doorway was dressed in a dark suit, and the woman – who was definitely Cassandra Farrow – wore a pale, floaty dress and flowers in her hair. It was clearly their wedding day.

  Her heart sank. So Cassandra Farrow wasn’t her Cass, after all. This Cassandra had a husband and kids of her own. She had a nice-looking home and a responsible job. She couldn’t be Pip’s troubled Cass with the turbulent past, moving from place to place, never able to settle down.

  ‘Are you one of Cassandra’s kids?’ the man asked, jiggling the baby who had started to cry.

  Pip’s eyes opened wide. If he was Cassandra Farrow’s husband, didn’t he know? She shook her head.

  ‘Sorry, I should have said clients,’ he added and swapped the baby to his other arm, blocking the photo from Pip’s view. ‘Mia, hush now. Mummy will be home soon.’

  ‘No,’ Pip said again. ‘I’m sorry, I was looking for someone but this isn’t the right place.’

  ‘No worries.’ He turned away as the baby’s cries grew louder. ‘Jake, close the door, please. And wash your face before your mum gets home or I’ll be in trouble. You know how she feels about chocolate before dinner.’

  The man’s footsteps retreated down the hall.

  ‘Do you know my mummy?’ Jake asked.

  ‘No.’ Pip shook her head. ‘I have to go.’

  He looked at her curiously. ‘Who are you, then?’

  ‘No one.’

  He looked disappointed. ‘Okay then. Bye,’ He closed the door and she could hear his footsteps thudding along the hall after his father.

  Pip walked away from the red door, and untied Houdini without being aware of it. Never had she felt so low, at least not since Sully had died. Just five minutes ago, she’d had such high hopes. Now, she almost wished she’d never knocked on that red door. At least that way, she could imagine her mother on the other side, even if it wasn’t true.

  Pip was so lost in her thoughts that she almost walked into a woman rushing the other way, weighed down by a plastic shopping bag in each hand.

  ‘Sorry,’ they both murmured, and continued on.

  As Pip and Houdini turned the corner, she saw the woman walk up the path to the red front door. She supposed she must be Jake’s mother home from work.

  Pip and Houdini walked on and on, as thoughts and feelings tumbled around inside her. How silly she’d been to think that, of all the Cassandras in Australia – in the world! – she’d just happened to stumble across the right one. But she had thought that, and now she was like a balloon that someone had stuck a sharp pin into.

  Sully was right. He’d always said, ‘Expect the worse. Sometimes you’ll be pleasantly surprised.’ At least that way you didn’t get your hopes up only to have them dashed.

  Not sure where to go now, Pip walked and walked until the sun went down and the shadows lengthened. She walked until Houdini decided he’d had more than enough walking. He sat down on the footpath and refused to move, even when Pip tugged on the lead. When he still wouldn’t budge, she looked around.

  They were hopelessly lost. For all she knew, they’d been walking in circles, although nothing looked familiar. The houses were few and larger, with big gardens that spilled out onto the footpath.

  Pip sagged where she stood. Suddenly she had no more energy than Houdini, and no plans. She was all out of ideas.

  After a drink and a biscuit bribe, saved from yesterday, Houdini reluctantly s
tood and they continued slowly on. At a public phone, Pip thought dully about calling the Brownings or Mr Blair or Molly Dunlop. They would be angry with her, furious probably, but they would know what to do. They would send the cops or the welfare to pick her up and she’d be safe, but what then? All she knew was that once the authorities took over, she would have no say about what happened to her.

  In the end, she called Matilda’s mobile. As it must be well after her bedtime, Pip was not surprised to get voicemail. She left a message that she and Houdini were okay and that no one should worry.

  Too tired to walk any further, they sat down behind a large bush that mostly hid them from the street. Pip only dozed, too afraid to fall completely asleep, and before the sun rose the following day, she was wide awake, Houdini snuggled against her, snoring.

  Where to now? She stared up towards the clouds that drifted slowly across the pale blue sky. A faded old street sign rose above the footpath and the shrub she sat under with the words ‘Byron Bay 6 km’.

  Abruptly, she sat up, ignoring Houdini’s grumbles at being disturbed. Byron Bay had always been her destination. Just because she’d been unlucky, that was no reason to abandon her quest. There was always hope, but next time she wouldn’t count her winnings before the race had been won!

  From her backpack, Pip fumbled out Cass’s creased, nine-year-old postcard with its picture of the ocean and beach and palm trees, and wanted to see it for real. They were so close, just six kilometres away.

  Yes, she decided, they would go to Byron Bay and search for Cass there. And maybe this time her luck would be in.

  NEXT STOP, BYRON

  Six kilometres was a lot further than it sounded on a street sign.

  After a drink of water and sharing the last of the dog biscuits (which, with a bit of imagination, she could pretend were Tim Tams), Pip and Houdini set off in the direction the sign had pointed as the streets came alive around them. A few joggers and dog-walkers emerged first, then people left for work and school by cars and bus, and later, older people emerged to inspect their gardens, and babies were pushed in their strollers to the park.