I think it is the smell of the smoke that wakes me. It’s much stronger than last night. Then I hear the sound of people talking outside my window. I look out and see a number of cars pulled up on the street and people carrying towel bundles and pet carriers into Mum’s surgery. It’s started already.

I throw on some clothes and a pair of thongs and Curly and I race out the back door. As I open the door to Mum’s surgery, I can see what she meant last night about badly hurt animals. The room is full of people talking quietly and looking in cages and boxes and taking them to different parts of the surgery. There is at least one other vet helping Mum and some vet nurses too.

I push my way through the confusion and look for Mum. A nurse tells me she’s on the phone to the animal hospital at the university. It sounds like they’re sending some of the really badly injured animals there.

When she gets off the phone, Mum is instantly surrounded by people asking her questions about what to do with all kinds of animals. She tries to answer each one as quickly as she can as she straps ice packs to a baby wombat’s burnt feet and checks his heart rate. Vets do that to see if an animal’s in shock.

‘What can I do?’ I ask Mum when she’s finally alone for a minute.

Mum wipes her cheek with the back of her arm, leaving a streak of ash on her face. It’s stinking hot in the surgery even though the air-conditioner is on full bore.

‘Can you make sure every cage has a clean towel and water ready for when the animals go in? They’re all very dehydrated. And can you race over to the house and get as many ice packs and ice cubes as you can and put them in the surgery freezer? Can you also ask Dad to get more of the old pet carriers out of the shed and scrub them down, please?’

I scribble it into my Vet Diary to make sure I don’t forget anything.

I finish the water and towels as quickly as I can. A lot of the cages already have animals in them. I can see possums, sugar gliders, birds and lots of tiny wrapped-up bundles. The ones that are not too badly injured or burned try to hide from me; the others are too sick to care. They look so sad with their blackened and singed fur. I take a deep breath and try not to cry. I know if I do, Mum will send me away.

I see Dad over the other side of the room. He is holding a bundle with a fluffy possum tail hanging down. The other vet is checking it. Dad doesn’t like animals very much. He doesn’t even like holding my gorgeous guinea pigs. I feel very proud of him.

I squeeze through the crowd to get to him.

‘What are you smiling at?’ he says. ‘And before you ask – no, we cannot keep it.’

I smile even more. ‘Mum asked if you could get the rest of the pet carriers out of the shed and scrub them down? But if you get them out, I can wash them. I can see you’re busy!’

Dad nods and I run out of the surgery. I see Chelsea coming out of her house. ‘Quick, come over,’ I call. ‘We’ve got so much to do.’

Chelsea doesn’t need to be asked twice. She races over and listens as I go through the list.

‘I’ll get the ice,’ I say. ‘Can you start washing the pet carriers Dad gets out of the shed? That’s when he finishes cuddling the animals, of course!’

Chelsea pulls a face. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously,’ I laugh. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’

As Chelsea dashes off, a woman walks up to me. She is carrying a shirt with something wrapped inside it. Curly assumes it is a present for him and wags his tail.

‘Do you know if they have room to take one more? ’

She opens the towel to reveal the most adorable baby koala I have ever seen. His little eyes are watering so badly from the smoke, it looks like he’s crying.

I hold out my arms to take him. ‘I’m Juliet. My mother’s the vet. I’ll take him straight in to her.’

‘Thank you,’ says the woman.

As soon as I take the baby koala Curly starts to whimper jealously. He is obviously confused by all the commotion. I’ll have to put him inside for the day. Through the shirt I feel the little koala shaking as I head to the surgery. ‘It’s all right,’ I whisper. ‘I’m nearly a vet. I’ll take care of you.’

A vet nurse takes him from me and heads to the area where the vets are assessing the injuries. All the taps are running as they gently wash the animals’ burns and wipe the soot from their eyes and noses.

I race back out to get the ice and see that Dad and Chelsea are hard at it scrubbing the pet carriers.

In the kitchen I find Max, my five-year-old brother, sitting at the table. He has about ten dinosaurs in front of him and an empty plate.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask.

‘Waiting for Mum to make the pancakes,’ he says.

I fill a large container with ice cubes and ice packs. ‘Mum’s not cooking pancakes today. If you look outside you’ll see why.’

‘But it’s Saturday. We always have pancakes on Saturday. I promised my dinosaurs.’

‘Well, you and your dinosaurs are just going to have to hunt for your own food today,’ I snap.

Max’s lip starts to quiver and he grabs his biggest dinosaur and heads outside. I lock Curly inside and follow with the ice. Max runs over towards the surgery.

‘Hey, Max,’ calls Dad, ‘don’t go in there, buddy. Mum’s really busy today.’

‘But I want pancakes!’ He’s fully crying now. Chelsea and I roll our eyes.

‘How about I make you some pancakes for lunch instead?’ says Dad.

‘Will you make enough for my dinosaurs?’ whines Max.

‘I’ll make a hugeasaurus pile. How does that sound?’

I groan and head back to the surgery.