Little Sister : A Novel (2012) by Dawson Lucy

Author:Dawson, Lucy [Dawson, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I hurtled into the concrete yard, at which a panting collie lying in the shade jerked its head up and scrambled to its feet, barking with outrage.

I hated the local farm dogs. They would lie in wait for you, lurking around gates or at the end of the long drives ready to pop out of hedges and snap at the wheels of your bike, barking crazily – or at your ankles if you were jogging past on a run. They weren’t family pets; they were bored, feral and I was usually more than happy to give them a very wide berth.

It raced over to me and began to leap about as I tried to pass it; I felt the sharp scratch of a rough paw down my bare thigh and the whistle of teeth nipping the frayed edge of my cut-offs. ‘Get away!’ I roared down at it, in spite of my heart being up in my throat and my mouth dry with the exertion of running – both to my surprise and the dog’s. It dropped back uncertainly and encouraged, I rushed up to the front door and began to hammer on it with my fists. ‘Hello?’ I shouted. ‘Hello! Can you hear me? I need help!’ The dog began to bark frenziedly again, dropping back on its haunches and unleashing a volley of noise that drowned me out completely – yet it was also now blocking my exit, and no longer looking so unsure of itself.

Mercifully the door juddered open and a confused man who looked about the same age as my dad appeared, chewing away on a mouthful. I very vaguely recognised him, but then all the farmers round us looked the same. They all had the identical uniform of filthy trousers and old shirts, as well as thinning hair and rough, red skin. His eyebrows flickered at the sight of my bare feet.

‘My sister.’ I took a gulp of breath, suddenly conscious of how mad I must look. ‘She’s stuck in our car and I can smell smoke. I can’t get her out, the seat belt is jammed and I need to cut it—’

He pushed past me before I could finish, ran to the edge of the yard and looked down the road. The dog and I watched him turn on his heels, hurry back and vanish past us into the dark hall of the house. I heard him shouting something to someone out of sight about calling the fire brigade. Then he reappeared holding a bloody great kitchen knife, and as if I wasn’t there, broke into a run without a word. The dog instantly scrabbled after him, and I followed. They were much faster than me though and by the time I had reached the road again, I could see they were already halfway down it.

But further down it still, the whole of our car was now completely engulfed in angry, orange flames.

I could only just see the outline of the roof and the front edge of the bonnet.

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