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A Dog Called Homeless
Sarah Lean
My name is Cally Louise Fisher and I haven't spoken for thirty-one days. Talking doesn’t always make things happen, however much you want them to.Cally Fisher saw her mum bright and real and alive. But no one believes her, so Cally’s stopped talking.A mysterious wolfhound always seems to be there when her mum appears and now he’s started following her everywhere. But how can Cally convince anyone that Mum is still with them, or persuade Dad that the huge silver-grey dog is their last link with her?An outstandingly assured debut novel from a sparkling new talent. Includes beautiful inside artwork from hugely talented illustrator, Gary Blythe.
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2012
Published in this ebook edition in 2018
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
HarperCollins Publishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
Text copyright © Sarah Lean 2012
Illustrations copyright © Gary Blythe 2012
Cover design copyright © HarperCollins Children’s Books 2018
Cover design by Katie Everson
Cover illustrations copyright © Jessica Courtney-Tickle
Sarah Lean and Gary Blythe assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007455034
Ebook Edition © 2018 ISBN: 9780007455027
Version: 2018-05-08
For Dad
Contents
Cover (#ua62f59e7-e035-542c-92c2-918030ec3cec)
Title Page (#u6ac55eda-52b8-5cfe-8efd-7f7f18c31558)
Copyright (#ub04e2fd9-e5fd-55ef-bf0f-15a3c099422a)
Dedication (#u35b57cbe-27a9-518a-9d80-e8f8c4eb472a)
Chapter 1 (#uad627d9c-e39a-5c39-8768-eb5b7bff90bf)
Chapter 2 (#u9b2088cc-3c46-5e47-a52e-1a79898f06cc)
Chapter 3 (#ue68882c8-65fd-5070-82ae-1ded9ad97894)
Chapter 4 (#ucec570d9-91f9-59e3-a3b9-4d7d4180bdd6)
Chapter 5 (#u09f267bd-b457-56b3-908b-8d66345b4555)
Chapter 6 (#u792f791b-e13f-5a5f-9479-b9c56f3f036e)
Chapter 7 (#u2def60c5-bc9a-5cf2-907e-9d4501f6f54e)
Chapter 8 (#u286a82cf-6966-5205-968d-0b530681b2bf)
Chapter 9 (#ufa606ece-1991-510a-9f1b-67f52aeb4d8f)
Chapter 10 (#u72285ea8-ba54-5840-b976-02490e8c76db)
Chapter 11 (#u167b24b9-8154-520f-9adb-3ea53c23c1ae)
Chapter 12 (#u770e4461-cdbd-594c-afed-490b13f9077f)
Chapter 13 (#u9c956bf7-5c73-5d65-b337-57daeae206d9)
Chapter 14 (#ufff46c62-c447-52f6-a898-68247018e207)
Chapter 15 (#u8ed64888-048a-5abe-a29a-3bdfffe9712f)
Chapter 16 (#u7d4fe211-688c-5a7a-bccf-5e71bc034a70)
Chapter 17 (#u9d9be1a1-fded-574d-82c4-01e5676f124e)
Chapter 18 (#uef95adf9-c32a-5de7-9770-d9e394328a61)
Chapter 19 (#uce5fd4a0-e63c-5f82-a8d9-31f346f37aaa)
Chapter 20 (#u554a5efe-1f4a-5158-98a0-5e71409d4436)
Chapter 21 (#u807d89d5-0b91-5fbf-bfc9-ab38c0e28877)
Chapter 22 (#u08ffc446-9fe2-57c2-a177-9337bb95dd0e)
Chapter 23 (#u983eb8bf-1a82-5c01-83f4-64e3f7a7dce7)
Chapter 24 (#ubdcddb19-0729-54f8-b640-cbd0584d50bd)
Chapter 25 (#uf0affbc6-bd2c-54e3-80de-8e7ae8f828d4)
Chapter 26 (#ue74c7d5b-5f60-5864-8a83-3143c808699c)
Chapter 27 (#ud48683e1-e4bb-5554-be3a-cf254756452c)
Chapter 28 (#ud698c69e-e1c7-5c77-bae6-ad46767e0279)
Chapter 29 (#u251aeb28-3533-5827-97b1-9f18b3e13fe6)
Chapter 30 (#u6aa1db77-6c0f-514c-881d-1bbd98f9c9cf)
Chapter 31 (#u2622e249-872e-5dd8-890a-2b1ed484c7c7)
Chapter 32 (#uc75bce36-e92e-51ad-9409-92b2cd378580)
Chapter 33 (#ue75e7e43-dda7-58f3-bba9-ad04616d4502)
Chapter 34 (#uda5a8c95-e159-5d37-9906-67ad2d0fc6dc)
Chapter 35 (#u50985adc-b729-531c-800a-4c6ae1405f4b)
Chapter 36 (#ud2577449-e49c-5203-bf56-2cda41302ba0)
Chapter 37 (#u63c5998d-0ad0-5065-9d3a-374c8155b031)
Chapter 38 (#u955456f1-63dc-5622-beee-221e5d68da48)
Chapter 39 (#u873d1687-da65-5934-ae97-702772519569)
Chapter 40 (#u37885e26-2cf8-586a-acb1-f1227d2e96e6)
Chapter 41 (#u739336d0-9d8e-559e-8501-72e1073d5fea)
Chapter 42 (#ub13a64c6-f821-5bf1-b997-ff1a38ec6a78)
Chapter 43 (#ua2305645-366b-5ff0-bb82-b805c7724037)
Chapter 44 (#ucd003e8d-e1e0-53a5-b80f-782ceb0388c4)
Chapter 45 (#ued4a53f8-8bb6-5e9a-9d80-27049dc5cef0)
Acknowledgements (#ueafa4925-30de-5646-a672-f21ca312746d)
Keep Reading … (#u28f4223b-0303-503b-a17a-ab8072f7eea9)
About the Author (#u313aa59d-1dc2-5c66-bbf6-e67d4286547e)
Books by Sarah Lean (#u0c37feaf-a952-5daf-9cc8-ed9727e1e079)
About the Publisher (#u8b7d2b1d-849c-56e1-a8ae-363038a83536)
MY NAME IS CALLY LOUISE FISHER AND I haven’t spoken for thirty-one days. Talking doesn’t always make things happen, however much you want it to. Think of rain; it just happens when it happens. When the clouds are ready, when they’re full, they drop the water. It’s not magic; it’s just putting something back where it belongs.
And this is how it all began.
1. (#ulink_c0432892-05da-5063-9cbf-ceacea938411)
DAD’S BIRTHDAY, AND I GOT UP BEFORE ANYONE.
He just wanted a quiet day. No presents, no cake, no nothing. It just wouldn’t be right, he said. People forget birthdays aren’t just about them.
Dad’s birthday is also the same day my mum died last year. I think it’s called a tragedy or a catastrophe or some other big word which means more than just “bad luck” when two things like that happen on the same day.
I sat outside Dad’s bedroom door with his birthday cards, waiting. Through the gap in the doorway I could just make out the dark hump under the covers and his dark head making a deep dent in his pillow. He sighed, so I knew he was awake.
There were six birthday cards for Dad. One from me, one from my older brother Luke (still in bed or on his computer – the door was shut) and four that had come in the post. I nudged Dad’s bedroom door open a bit wider and flung my card in. I saw Dad patting round the bed, feeling for the blue envelope that landed by his back, and heard it crunch as he opened it. It was a picture of a grey bear with a blue nose. It was speaking on the telephone and on the front it said A Message From Me To You.
Dad said, “Thanks, that’s nice.”
And I said, “Are you thinking about Mum?”
Silence.
And then he said, “Get me a cup of coffee, will you?”
It didn’t feel like a birthday at all, not even with the cards on top of the telly. Dad had the volume turned low while we sat around waiting for the rest of our family to arrive and come with us to visit Mum’s grave for her anniversary.
2. (#ulink_c9bce7ec-49f3-5331-b32f-7fa37f852243)
GRANDPA AND GRANDMA HAMBLIN PICKED US up and drove slowly to the cemetery. We met Granddad Fisher and Aunty Sue and walked together along paths of tidy grass and loving memories.
We made a circle, stood still as statues, not talking about her because Dad says it’s too hard to talk about her. We stared at the cold, grey stone marked with her name. Louise Fisher. The same as my middle name.
And I thought about her, up there, somewhere. Not here. And because she was so far away I missed her like crazy and I wondered if I should have had some breakfast because my belly hurt like mad.
And then there she was. I saw my mum. And I know what you’re thinking – you can’t really see dead people. But I did. She was standing on the wall of the cemetery, wearing her red raincoat and waxy green hat. And I wasn’t scared. Why would I be scared of my own mum?
She put her arms out to balance, swaying as she walked along the wall. Just like she always was, doing something that made you want to laugh or do it too. She wobbled along, until she was as close as she could get to us without jumping down. She pushed her hat flat on her head. She looked at me and smiled, just like she did when she saw me sing in the school musical of Charlotte’s Web. Like you’re everything.
Grandma had a bunch of sweet peas wrapped in silver foil.
“Be a good girl and put the flowers in the vase,” she said, holding them out. Her tissue fell out of her sleeve and floated to the ground.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I whispered, picking up her tissue and handing it back. “Do you believe Mum could come back and we could see her?”
The purple and pink flowers reflected in her glasses and made them look like a church window. She closed her eyes and dabbed her nose.
