“I’m not going,” said Harriet on the first day of the holidays. “Nobody’s going to push me into being ‘friends’ with anyone, specially not someone who’ll boss me around.”
“But you don’t know that,” said her mother, “you might like him, and what else do you plan to do?”
“I was going to be looking after Honey,” said Harriet quietly, “and taking them for walks. Now I can’t do any of it.”
“Mrs Howard’s been awfully good to you, Harry,” replied her mother. “Would you do it to help her out?”
“No, I won’t!” said Harriet, and stomped upstairs to her room. What a start to the holidays. She had planned to explore the neighbourhood and pick up some clues about who was leaving the presents. She thought she’d give them to Gus and Max to sniff so that they could follow a trail to a house.
She looked at the presents lined up on her dressing table – the book with the message from Maddy, the brooch, the knife, and the charm on her bracelet. They all had an old-fashioned feel about them. And the bones and red jersey – it was almost certainly Maddy who had left those. So, she must know that Max and Gus were her friends. How would she know that? Why didn’t she just introduce herself instead of keeping it a secret? Harriet thought of the slightly wavery writing in the book and decided Maddy must be old.
Harriet sat in her sagging armchair and worried about Honey. How was her paw? What was she doing about food? Did Gus and Max know where she was? Maybe they’d already found her and persuaded her to come back. She should check that out immediately.
Harriet jumped up. She’d go and see Gus right away. She wouldn’t go next door, though – she wouldn’t be able to see Max for a whole week! The thought made her grumpy all over again. “I’m going to see if Honey has turned up,” she told her mother.
But there was no sign of Honey at Gus’s place.
“The box in the garage hasn’t been slept in,” said Mr Jacobs. “But don’t give up hope, Harriet. Honey will come back.”
Suddenly a ball flew over the fence and bounced on the lawn. Then a boy looked over the fence – he had glasses and brown, curly hair.
“Lousy throw!” he said. “Would you mind tossing it back?”
Harriet picked up the ball. It was slobbery. He must be playing with Max, she thought resentfully, and he couldn’t even throw a ball on target. She’d show him how it was done. She curved her arm back and shot it forcefully over the fence.
CRACK! Harriet froze. Mr Jacobs looked over the fence. “Oh dear,” he said.
Harriet stood on tiptoe and looked over, too. The ball had hit Mr Howards’s mini-glasshouse and cracked a pane. The boy was staring at her. Harriet felt like a complete idiot. Now she would have to go next door and apologise, in front of the very person she’d vowed to avoid.
When she got there, Mrs Howard was out. Max gave her an enthusiastic welcome.
“She went to get bread for lunch,” said the boy. “Who are you?”
“I’m Harriet. I live round in Moa Road.”
“Well, you proved you can throw hard,” said the boy. “Were you aiming for the glasshouse?”
Harriet gave him her withering look but he grinned back.
“I wasn’t aiming for over the fence, either,” he said. “How come you know Max?”
“I visit him most days after school. And Gus.”
“Is he the black lab next door?”
“Yes,” replied Harriet.” We do things together.”
“Like playing with the ball?” The boy looked amused. “I’m Luke, by the way. I’ve known Max since he was a puppy.”
OK, thought Harriet. I get it – you’re an older friend of Max than I am. “I’m surprised you haven’t met Gus before, then,” she said.
Luke laughed. “Touché!”
What’s he mean? wondered Harriet, but she wasn’t going to let on she didn’t know.
Max pricked up his ears and woofed. A minute later Mrs Howard drove into the garage. She bustled down the path with her shopping.
“Oh, great!” she said, “you two have met! I’m so glad you decided to drop in, Harriet.”
“It was the ball that ‘dropped in’,” said Luke.
Harriet could’ve thumped him. “I’m afraid I’ve broken a pane in the glasshouse,” she said. “I threw the ball too hard.”
“She was returning it to me,” said Luke. “It was a great throw, just a bit … over-enthusiastic.”
Harriet flushed. What an obnoxious boy.
Mrs Howard examined the damage. “Well, accidents do happen,” she said. “Don’t worry, Harriet.” She glanced at her watch. “Goodness! 11.30 already. How about staying for an early lunch, Harriet? I’ll ring your mother.”
Harriet opened her mouth to decline but Luke got in first. “Yeah, good thinking, Gran, I need someone to teach me how to throw.” His eyes challenged Harriet to say no.
Harriet narrowed her eyes. “I’d love to, Mrs Howard,” she said sweetly. She picked up Max’s ball and threw it high across the lawn. “It’s not too difficult,” she said in a voice dripping with kindness, “though some people never quite get the hang of it.”
Lunch was awkward. Mrs Howard kept the conversation moving while Harriet and Luke never missed a chance to score off each other. A smile tugged at the corners of Mrs Howard’s mouth.
“Show Harriet your wood carving, Luke,” she told him. Luke looked as though it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he got up from the table and jerked his head towards the sunroom.
“In there.”
Harriet followed him to a table covered with wood, sandpaper and small tools and knives surrounded by curls of wood.
“I’ve got a knife like that,” she said.
“Where did you get a French knife from?”
“Present,” said Harriet, thinking ‘none of your business’.
“What do you use it for?” asked Luke.
“Oh – things,” Harriet replied. She wasn’t going to tell him it just sat on her dressing table. “Do you get cut much?” she asked.
“Not now, though I did for the first couple of years.”
Harriet looked more closely at one of the partly-carved figures. “Can I pick it up?”
Luke handed it to her.
“Oh, it’s Max!” Harriet exclaimed. “It’s just like him, even the tail! This is fantastic!” She ran her finger down his back. “I’ve often seen him looking exactly like this.” She looked at Luke with new respect. “Did anyone teach you or are you just a natural?”
“Oh, I’ve always fiddled around with bits of wood. Then my uncle gave me a few tips and some of his old tools.”
Harriet gazed at the figures in various stages of completion. She was embarrassed at how rude she’d been.
“Look,” she said, “I wasn’t very nice to you. I felt as though I was being pushed into being friends.”
“Yeah,” said Luke, “it was the same for me.”
They both smiled.
The phone rang. It was Harriet’s mother to say she was going shopping and would pick Harriet up in a couple of minutes.
“Seeya round,” said Luke as Harriet left.
“Yeah, seeya.”