Jacqueline Wilson's Happy Holidays Read online

  He was going to take him to Battersea Dogs and Cats Home in the morning – but I begged and pleaded and cried and eventually Mum and Simon gave in and said we could try looking after him just for a week. Oh, he was the dearest little boy in the world, with a black and white face and black dots speckling his back and black legs with white paws.

  ‘OMG, he’s a Dalmatian!’ I said, utterly thrilled.

  One Hundred and One Dalmatians is my all-time favourite film. I totally adore it. I’ve watched it at least fifty times. Even Keira liked it too when we were little, though now she makes out she doesn’t like baby cartoons any more.

  ‘Dalmatians are ever such expensive dogs,’ I said. ‘Wow, Simon, you couldn’t have found a better puppy! What shall we call him? What’s black and white? Bull’s Eye sweets? Zebras? Them big birds? Yeah, let’s call him Magpie!’

  ‘Magpies are noisy and they steal things,’ said Mum. ‘If this little puppy does likewise you’re not keeping him, Hayley!’

  But Simon was so chuffed I’d said something nice to him for once that he actually took my side against Mum when the week was up. Unbelievably she wanted to take him to Battersea just because he’d done a few pees and poos on the carpet – all the carpets – and been sick on the cream sofa and chewed all the computer wires and eaten Mum’s cardi and my shoe and Keira’s dressing gown and most of the make-up in her handbag. I mean, he wasn’t doing this on purpose, he was just a little puppy who didn’t know any better.

  ‘If you’re keeping him you have to train him properly, Hayley,’ said Mum.

  ‘How’s she going to do that when she’s like a wild animal herself!’ said Keira.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ I said. ‘I’m going to train Magpie until he’s the most obedient dog in the world. We’ll do an act together. We can be on Britain’s Got Talent!’

  Well, I tried. I even went to puppy training classes but I didn’t really get on with the teacher.

  She was so bossy. She got on my nerves. And she got on Magpie’s nerves too. He didn’t want to mess around walking to heel. He likes jumping about and dashing this way and that. He didn’t want to lie down and wait. He wanted to run and join me and play with all the other puppies. He didn’t want to learn to leave a treat until I said he could have it. He wanted to gobble it up straight away.

  I want Magpie to have fun. And we do, big time. I take him for two walks a day, before and after school, and I charge home at lunchtime to make sure he’s all right too.

  It’s especially magic at the weekend because I don’t have to go to boring old school. Me and Magpie can stay together all day long and do whatever we like. We go for long walks in heaps of different parks and he goes for a swim in the ponds and chases after all the other dogs and we share crisps for lunch, yum yum.

  I have to feed Magpie lots because he’s a growing boy. He’s much bigger now. And his spots have mostly joined up. I don’t think he’s really a Dalmatian any more. The man in the pet shop says he’s a Licorice Allsorts. I don’t care. I love Magpie to bits even if he’s not a pedigree.

  Sooooo I was really looking forward to the summer holidays at first because it meant I could be with Magpie twenty-four seven. I was planning all sorts of crazy expeditions for him and me. But then Mum and Keira ruined everything!

  Keira was going on about how boring it was, just staying home for six weeks, and how it wasn’t fair because all her mates were going abroad and why couldn’t we. She went on and on and on about it, until Mum had a rush of blood to the head and went on the internet when Keira and I went to bed.

  Mum woke us in the morning looking triumphant.

  ‘Guess what, girls! We’re going on holiday after all! I found a brilliant last minute deal – we’re having eight days in Benidorm, how about that? Lots of sun and lots of fun!’

  ‘Oh wow, Mum, thanks a million!’ Keira squealed.

  ‘Cool, eh?’ said S.S.

  ‘No, it’ll be hot. Too hot!’ I said. ‘Dogs don’t like the heat. And the only way they can cool down is to pant. Poor Magpie is going to spend the entire holiday with his tongue hanging out.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Hayley! Magpie can’t come on holiday with us! We’re staying in a fancy hotel. They’d never let Magpie come in a million years. Besides, how on earth would he cope with a plane journey? We’re obviously leaving him at home,’ said Mum.

  ‘Then I’m staying at home too!’ I declared.

  Then there was an argument. It went on for a long time. Mum said Magpie had to go into kennels for a week.

  ‘No way!’ I insisted. ‘It would be like putting him in prison. He’d absolutely hate it. He’d be so worried without me. He’d think he’d been abandoned again. No, this isn’t going to happen. You lot can all go to Benidorm but Magpie and me are staying at home.’

  There was a LOT of argument then. I won’t bore you writing it all out but it was mega mega mega.

  Mum and S.S. made it clear that they’d snatch Magpie and lock him up in these awful kennels and frog-march me to the airport no matter how I screamed and kicked. I was horribly scared they might be right. So I devised a CUNNING PLAN!!!!!!!

  We were due to leave on an evening flight on Friday, taking my poor Magpie to doggy-jail on the way. So on the Thursday I suddenly stopped protesting bitterly and acted all sorry and goody goody and went and packed a suitcase with my favourite T-shirts and jeans and shorts and my toy teddy that always sleeps with me and don’t you dare laugh. I also packed a carrier bag for Magpie with all his special stuff too: his doggy treats and chewy things and his spare lead and his favourite ball and his squeaky toy and his little red blanket and his totally revolting cow’s ear.

  ‘Good girl, Hayley,’ said Mum. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen sense at last.’

  I wasn’t being good. I was being very bad. I had no intention of going on a poxy holiday and putting my pooch in those rubbish kennels.

  Magpie would be shut up most of the time and he’d soooooo hate that.

  I bet you can’t guess my CUNNING PLAN!

  I was going to run away! I planned to get up ever so early and creep out of the house with Magpie and our luggage and then off we’d trot. I wasn’t exactly sure where we would run to. I had a vague idea that we’d hop on a train and maybe make for our own British seaside so Magpie and I could have a bit of a holiday too. We could play on the beach all day and go swimming and eat fish and chips and ice cream and sleep under the pier at night.

  It was a brilliant plan. There was just one slight problem.

  I didn’t have any spare cash. So when I got up very early in the morning on Friday I borrowed a little bit from S.S.’s wallet.

  It wasn’t much. He’d already changed a lot of it into euros to use as holiday money. I just used the rest. He wouldn’t be needing it, would he, not if he was away in Spain.

  So, Magpie and I had some spare cash so we were all set. We decided to make ourselves scarce as soon as possible. So I helped myself to Mum’s mobile and set the alarm thingy ever so ever so early and hid it under my pillow. I didn’t really need it, actually, because I was so keyed up I hardly slept all night, and I was wide awake by six in the morning. So I whispered in Magpie’s ear that he had to be quiet as a mouse and he licked my face all over and assured me I didn’t need to worry.

  I shoved on some clothes quick, tiptoed to the bathroom and back, picked up our bags, and then we crept to the front door and let ourselves out. Mum and S.S. and Keira stayed sound asleep, snoring their little heads off. It was easy-peasy!

  I wasn’t the slightest bit scared. Magpie and I set off down the road together. Magpie couldn’t believe his luck that he was going for walkies so early in the day. He darted about on the end of his lead, smelling the pavement excitedly and stopping to do a wee on almost every lamp post we passed.

  We called in at the corner shop as we hadn’t had any breakfast yet, so we shared a packet of crisps. I was a bit loaded with our bags and everything so we sat at the edge of the kerb and had a good mun