14

Dora

‘Let’s get out of the car Dad!’ Emily appealed to her father as rain hit the windscreen and Mr Featherstone, who hated getting wet, announced that they would come back another day, having just arrived at Snares Farm to take a look.

‘Not likely!’ he said, answering a call on his mobile as he edged the car backwards and turned to set off for home again, ignoring Emily’s furious signals to him to stop.

Dora, who was sitting in the back, was worried. Any Jack Russell worth her sort could pick up the vibrations of thousands of ratty sounds in the old farmhouse, even with the car door shut, and Dora had done just that. She’d seen enough through the window, and heard enough with her sharp ears, to understand that Rat Hall, as she’d heard it called, would be a very big job indeed – too big for her and her girls.

What’s more, things at the Featherstone house were not going well. Dora and her daughters enjoyed living there, and Dora herself had become very attached to Emily. She liked their occasional ratting jobs, and although she longed to be taken for some proper walks, she knew that she and her family were lucky to be where they were. So she’d been alarmed to hear a conversation between Emily’s parents a couple of days earlier, while Emily was out at school.

‘I don’t like it John!’ said Mrs Featherstone to her husband, ‘Emily thinks about nothing but pest control. I was happy enough for her to take charge of the dogs and so on, but things are going too far! I’m sure she was talking about rats in her sleep the other night, and it’s not going to look good at school, with all her essays having ‘rodent’ in their titles. What will people think? We’re starting to be known as the Rat Family.’

‘Nonsense!’ replied her husband. ‘Emily’s got a good business head on her shoulders, that’s all. There’s probably money in pest control, and I’m proud of the girl for being able to see that.’

‘It’s not money she’s interested in. It’s rats!’ went on his wife, ‘and what’s more, I think you should stop talking about your plans for the village. I’m being stared at by the other mothers at the school gate as they’re convinced you’re going to ruin the place with your supermarket plans and holiday cottages and whatnot.’

‘Nonsense!’ Mr Featherstone said again, raising his voice. ‘They need a decent shop here. That farm shop Mavis Barnsley sits gossiping in all day is hopeless. Have you seen the prices in there?’

‘That’s not the point,’ said his wife, ‘but I’ve come to one decision anyway. Those dogs will have to go. It’s the only way to stop Emily practically turning into a rat. I’m going to ring up the rescue people we got them from and see if they’ve got a nice poodle or something else for a pet. Anything that doesn’t like chasing rats.’

‘Oh no you don’t!’ Mr Featherstone was angry, ‘those terriers have got a job to do for me. It’s going to save me a fortune, and also, have you forgotten what it was like with the loft full of rats? What good’s a poodle going be for that?’

‘I don’t care!’ said Mrs Featherstone. ‘We can get that old man to come and clear the rats for us. If I’d known about him I’d never have got Dora in the first place.’

Dora was horrified. Back to the Rescue? No! She must try and get Emily interested in something else at once. But what? Swimming was out, because Dora hated it. Walking was out, because Mrs Featherstone wouldn’t let them go. Climbing was just plain unlikely.

What about Terrier Racing? Dora couldn’t read of course but she’d seen a sign in the village shop window with a picture of a Border Terrier charging down a track to advertise the Annual Terrier Race. The same picture, only smaller, was on the back page of the newspaper Mrs Featherstone brought home with her shopping. And Dora had heard Meg and Allie talking about it, as she knew Allie was hoping Emily would take them and that the black-eared terrier might be there. But how to get Emily interested?

Dora hurried into the sitting room, and, jumping up onto the low coffee table near the fireplace, she pulled the newspaper towards her and twisted it with her teeth so that it fell onto its front on the carpet, clearly showing the terrier racing picture on the back.

She had to repeat this exercise several times as Mrs Featherstone kept picking up the paper to tidy it whenever she came into the room. ‘Something’s moving this paper,’ Dora heard her muttering.

As soon as Emily got home from school Dora took a firm hold of her skirt with her teeth, and dragged her towards the picture.

‘Dora! Let go! What on earth’s the matter?’

But on the third attempt, Emily, who was better than most people at listening to what animals tried to say to her, finally looked at the advert.

‘Annual Terrier Race? Wow! Yes, you clever dog. If we could win that I might get some money towards starting up my business! What a brilliant idea!’ She called to her mother, ‘Mum! Dora wants us to enter the terrier racing at Saturday’s village fete. Can we go? I reckon we could easily win it.’

Mrs Featherstone looked doubtful. ‘Are any rats involved?’ she asked.

‘No, ‘course not! It’s just racing. But we’ll have to practise. I’ll take the dogs out after tea and start training them.’

Mrs Featherstone looked at the newspaper. ‘Maybe the village would be a bit more friendly towards us if we take an interest in their show. All right Emily, as long as there are no rats.’

Dora sighed with relief. She explained her scheme to her daughters.

‘I’m sorry,’ she began. ‘I know I shouldn’t ask professional ratters to run in a terrier race, and certainly not to chase a ball, but unless we can make Mrs Featherstone change her mind about us, we’ll be back in the Rescue pen by next week.’ She told her girls what she’d overheard.

‘What?’ Allie was horrified. She thought of Spud, and his lovely ears. ‘We’ll help, won’t we Meg? We don’t want to be sent away!’

Emily got going straight after tea. The Featherstone house had a long garden and she searched around to find a couple of tennis balls for the dogs to chase. Hoping not to be seen by any passing dogs, Dora, Meg and Allie did their best to run flat out and grab the ball. It was boring, but they coped.

‘You’re not nearly fast enough!’ Emily told them. ‘Listen, we’ve only got three days. I’ll get up early tomorrow and we’ll have a go before school. Dad’s squash balls might be better as I could throw them further. I’ll see if I can nick a couple. I have to get you fit.’

They stayed outside until nearly dark, then came back in and Dora Allie and Meg collapsed in a heap.

For the next three days Emily worked her dogs. They ran and ran. She gave each of them a sports massage after half an hour, which they hated as she was hopeless at it, but they kept on doing their best, and gradually they knew they were speeding up.

Mrs Featherstone came out onto the patio and looked at her daughter with relief. Dora overheard her say to her husband. ‘Thank goodness for that John! Emily hasn’t mentioned a rat in days.’

Whilst Dora and her daughters charged up and down the Featherstone lawns, collecting a mixture of tennis, squash, and even cricket balls thrown for them by Emily, Charlie and his gang were planning their assault on Rat Hall.