12

Party Time

The night before the Powers packed and departed from Paris, the Parfaits threw a party in their penthouse.

It was more than a party. It was a performance. A pageant. A pantomime.

Page-boys in purple pin-striped pyjamas served pepperoni pizza and pesto pasta and pickled pineapples. Paulette and JP played pass the parcel and pin the pink tail on the piggy. Pucker and Penelope peered into each other’s eyes with puggly, poodley passion.

The Powers and Parfaits were perfectly pleasant to each other. The doggies danced and Don Mew mewed. Everyone was happy that the precious pets were back with their proud families, even Proteo, who turned himself into a pony and gave rides to children and small animals.

‘What is that rumbling sound?’ Ted said to Clare.

‘Oh, that’s Espike. One of Pucker’s new friends. He’s asleep under the table.’

‘How can anyone sleep with all this noise?’ Ted asked.

‘Get used to it,’ Clare said. ‘Pucker has invited him to stay with us in Dublin on his way back to Guatemala. And from what I understand, he takes his time getting from A to B.’

‘Pucker invited him?’ Ted was taken aback.

‘Well,’ said Clare, ‘the police told me he can’t go back to Guatemala for a month, and I just know that Pucker would love to have him stay with us.’

‘And what’s the diddly-dory with that pair? They look like greyhounds gone wrong.’

Axel and Lexa were dancing, looking like a single hairless Afghan prancing in front of a mirror.

‘Shh, Ted,’ Clare said. ‘Those evil men shaved them so that they wouldn’t use their silky hair to make ropes to trip up – ah, never mind. It’s too complicated.’

‘Well, they look cold.’

‘I know. And don’t get annoyed, but Pucker also invited them to our house in Dublin. Afghanistan is freezing at this time of year.’

JP passed by on the pony. He couldn’t see Don Mew, who was close behind, stalking him. ‘Mad and Dumb, look at me!’ JP said. ‘I’m a bowcoy!’

‘Mad and Dumb?’

‘He means Dad and Mum.’

‘Arrrrooooooooooo.’

‘Janey mackers,’ Ted said. ‘What was that?’

‘Pucker’s friend Butch. He’s from Texas and he’s lonely and he’s –’

‘Don’t tell me – Pucker has invited him to stay with us.’

‘Ted – how did you guess?’

Mr Parfait lifted a wineglass and tapped it with a spoon until the room was quiet. He cleared his throat. ‘Mesdames et Messieurs, I would like to propose a toast.’

‘Would that be a French toast?’ Suzie asked.

‘To Poo-care and Penelope. Welcome home. And to PJ –’

‘JP,’ Clare shouted.

‘Oui, JP. For his birthday. Joyeux anniversaire.’

‘Joyeux anniversaire,’ everyone shouted, lifting their glasses.

‘And please, everyone,’ Mrs Parfait said, ‘help yourself to birthday cake.’

The pony turned its head and said, ‘Did someone say “cake”?’

Ping! The pony turned back into Proteo, who ran to the dessert table and helped himself to a double slice. JP, who had still been riding the pony, floated in the air for a moment before falling to the floor with a bang.

This was the moment Don Mew had been waiting for. He pounced on JP, digging his sharp claws into JP’s trousers. JP screamed and shook his leg, but Don Mew wouldn’t let go. Paulette shouted and pleaded, but it was no use. Before anyone could pull the cat away, JP took off in flight mode, bouncing and buzzing around the room before crashing through one of the big picture windows and zooming into the evening sky, with Don Mew hanging on for dear life.

Silence, except for Espike’s snoring.

‘Mon Dieu!’ said Pierre.

‘Don Mew!’ said Paulette.

‘What’s new?’ said Clare, wearily. ‘Ted, do something.’

But Ted had had enough. He wasn’t angry, but the stress, the noise, the dogs – it was all too much for him. Smoke streamed from the tips of his fingers and the toes of his shoes.

‘Dad,’ Suzie said, ‘be careful.’

‘I am careful. But this room is roasting.’

Cold air streamed through the broken window. ‘Actually, Dad, it’s freezing.’

A small fireball dropped from Ted’s nose onto the Parfaits’ lovely thick white carpet. Another one. A third. The carpet went up in flames like a trail of petrol.

Chaos. Fear.

‘Mum,’ Suzie shouted, ‘the weather.’

Clare concentrated and in seconds heavy rain started lashing down from the ceiling, putting out the fire and soaking everyone except Espike, who still slept under the table. And just when Suzie breathed a sigh of relief, hailstones the size of plums fell, bonking everyone on the head before Suzie used her reverse weather to make them stop.

The Parfaits sat in the cold, sizzling room, soaked and stunned. The dogs were howling. Then, with another almighty crash, JP came flying back through the other window, shattering that as well before hitting the wall and sliding to the floor, Don Mew still clutching his leg with a look of terror on his face.

Ted brushed bits of ice and broken glass from his jumper, turned to Mr and Mrs Parfait and said. ‘It’s been a pleasure. It really has. But we have a plane to catch.’

The Powers drove to the airport in a minivan. JP sat up front with the driver, nursing his scratched leg. Ted, Clare and Suzie sat in the middle seat. And in the big back seat were … eight dogs. All coming to Dublin (it was ‘pets fly free day’ on Ryanair).

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me that Pucker invited them all,’ Ted said.

‘Ah, now, Ted,’ said Clare, ‘don’t be like that.’

He glanced back at Pucker and Penelope, who were rubbing noses. ‘Look at the pair of them,’ he said under his breath. ‘Next thing you know we’ll be having little Poogles all over the house.’

‘Poogles?’ JP said.

‘Never mind, JP,’ Clare said.

Suzie turned and leaned over the seat. She was so happy to have Pucker back. ‘You sly little dog,’ she said so that only Pucker could hear. ‘What did you do to get Mum to invite all your new friends to Dublin?’

‘She just did it,’ Pucker said.

Suzie’s eyes grew big as peaches. Was she hearing things? Was she going mad? Was Pucker smiling?

‘Pucker,’ she whispered, ‘did you just talk?’

Pucker wiggled his nose.

‘Pucker, say something else.’

He scratched his side.

‘Pucker, speak to me.’

‘Arf,’ he said.