Sputnik's Guide to Life on Earth by Frank Cottrell Boyce

Author:Frank Cottrell Boyce [Cottrell Boyce, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

14.

31 July – St Peter’s Summer Treat

It was late when we got back. Almost dark as we walked down the loaning. They obviously knew that we’d tried to make a run for it. But they didn’t say anything, just served the tea.

‘We’ve been thinking about the best thing for Sputnik,’ said the mum, ‘and for all of us. And we’ve decided it’s just not right to send Sputnik to the animal rescue.’

‘Yay!’ whooped Jessie. ‘So Sputnik is staying here?’

‘Well, not quite. We’re going to have to send him away, but not very far. The McCrimmins are going to take him.’

The McCrimmins were the people who owned the ponies.

‘The McCrimmins?! They’ve got everything already. They’ve got a trampoline! And they’ve already got dogs. They’ve got packs of dogs.’

‘So Sputnik will have lots of company. It’ll be nice for him.’

‘They live in town. How can it be nice for a dog to live in a town?’

‘They live in Kirkcudbright,’ said the mum. ‘It’s only just up the road. You’ll be able to see Sputnik whenever you like.’

‘They’re coming over to the Hayfield on Sunday. We’ll hand him over then.’

The Hayfield wasn’t just a field with hay in it. It was a thing. ‘Back in the day,’ the dad said, ‘when they brought in the hay the fields would be full of folk. Singing and laughing. And when the work was done, the farmer’s wife would lay out a big tea in the field. Now you never see a soul in the fields. It’s all machinery. And no one does the hay, only the silage in the big black bin bags.’

‘But we still do a Hayfield treat. Our church is over in Kirkcudbright. Once a year I mow the bottom field and everyone from the parish comes down. And the people from the caravan site come up. We make a hay castle out of hay bales. There’s races and flags and stalls. It’s all in a good cause. We call it the St Peter’s Treat. You’ll love it, won’t he, Jess?’

‘You are sending Sputnik away,’ said Jessie.

‘Yes, but not to—’

‘You’re sending him away.’

‘Not away away. Not like—’

‘You’re sending him away. Say it.’

‘I’m sending him away.’

On the morning of the Treat I collected the eggs and went down to the stables to see Sputnik. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the hallway. In the house there was nothing but Blythes shouting:

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