The Puppy No One Wanted by Barby Keel

Author:Barby Keel [Keel, Barby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Citadel Press
Published: 2021-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

PETER’S VISIT

“Barby, it’s Peter on the phone for you.” Diane called over to me as I sat sunning myself, and writing out checks.

“These vets bills go up every month . . . we need to raise a hell of a lot of money next month. We need to start advertising the Summer Fair as its only weeks away and at this rate we’ll never get everything done, let alone get enough people in to help . . .” I was deep in concentration, muttering away to myself as I dealt with the mountain of paperwork.

“Barby, can you hear me?” Diane walked towards me holding my mobile.

“What was that, dear? Sorry, I was concentrating,” I replied, still not giving my friend my full attention.

“Worrying more like, if I know you,” Diane admonished. “Your brother is on the phone for you. Or are you too busy concentrating to take it?”

“I’m never too busy doing anything to not speak to Peter,” I said rather sniffily, holding out my right hand for the phone.

“You can forget the attitude, madam,” Diane laughed.

I stuck my tongue out at her, a gesture I used to do to my older brother plenty of times as a child.

“Peter dearest, how are you?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. I was overjoyed to hear his voice. We didn’t speak that often these days as we were both busy people, but when we did talk it didn’t matter at all, and we were soon chatting away as if no time at all had passed since the last time we’d spoken.

“Barby, can I come and see you? I’ve got some news for you,” he said. His voice was deeper than mine but it had the same hint of Sussex twang to it.

“Of course you can, you can meet my new pup, Teddy,” I replied, delighted that Peter was coming. We hadn’t seen each other for ages, maybe months, even though he lived in Eastbourne, so this was a rare treat.

If there was any catch to his voice, I didn’t hear it. There was nothing to suggest that there was anything different about his manner. I’ve often thought back to that brief conversation and wondered whether I could’ve known, somehow intuited that something was terribly wrong.

I was so pleased to hear from him, I don’t think I even asked him what it was he needed to tell me, except to add: “Oh, and don’t be bringing me bad news, we’ve had enough of that. One of our cats had to be put down yesterday, and two chickens have died of old age.”

Peter was silent for a moment, then he said: “Don’t worry Barby, I’ll be over tomorrow. Does that suit you?”

“Of course it does, I’ll have Diane pick us up some cake from Sidley. See you then, bye.”

I put the phone down, oblivious to anything but the delight I felt at seeing the brother who’d appeared two years earlier than me, though he wasn’t the firstborn. Mum had lost the first

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