Читать книгу Oscar and the Dognappers - Alan MacDonald - Страница 6

CHAPTER 1

SMOKE SIGNALS

It was Saturday morning in the Shilling house and a delicious smell was drifting upstairs from the kitchen. Sam was in his room getting dressed. Downstairs his dad was cooking sausages. His mum sat at the kitchen table while Oscar sat on the floor because dogs generally didn’t bother with chairs. Sausages, however, were his number-one favourite and his tail was beating the floor impatiently while he waited for them to cook. Dad slotted four pieces of bread into the Hercules Speedy Pop-up Toaster (one of his many inventions) and went back to turning the sausages.

‘Have you noticed you can’t get a decent cup of coffee round here?’ he said.

‘Mmm?’ said Mum.

‘Or tea or hot chocolate for that matter,’ Dad went on. ‘There’s nowhere to buy it – not without walking all the way into town.’

‘There’s a drinks machine at the garage,’ Mum pointed out.

Dad snorted. ‘Have you actually tried their coffee?’ he asked. ‘I wouldn’t give it to a dog!’

Oscar looked up and frowned. He sniffed the air and his tail ceased drumming for a moment. The Hercules Speedy Pop-up Toaster was taking its own sweet time. Stranger still, it was giving off a funny smell – a bit like burning toast. Oscar barked to get everyone’s attention.

‘Quiet, Oscar!’ cried Mr Shilling. ‘There’s nowhere on the seafront at all,’ he said, returning to his subject. ‘Don’t you think that’s odd?’

Oscar stared. Smoke was now rising from the toaster. It seemed impossible to miss, though everyone else was missing it. He decided he’d have to do something before things got out of hand. Trotting over to Mr Shilling he jumped up and pawed at the back of his legs.

‘OSCAR!’ cried Dad, turning round. ‘What’s the matter with him today?’

‘He’s probably hungry,’ replied Mum. ‘He can smell sausages.’

Oscar felt like howling. The toaster! he wanted to shout. For dog’s sake – LOOK!

Mum poured milk into her cereal bowl.

‘What’s that funny smell?’ she frowned. ‘Can you smell it?’

Finally thought Oscar. He looked at Mrs Shilling then back at the toaster. No response. This was getting ridiculous. He lay down on the floor with his paws over his head as if preparing for an explosion.

Dad stared at him. ‘Is he sick or something?’

Sam walked into the kitchen, still pulling on his sweatshirt.

Oscar sat up and barked loudly.

‘What’s up, Oscar?’ asked Sam.

Oscar turned and looked back at the toaster and raised a paw to point.

‘Something’s burning!’ cried Sam.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Suddenly the smoke alarm in the kitchen went off making them all jump. Seconds later there was a deafening BANG! as the Hercules Speedy Pop-up Toaster burst into flames.

‘THE TOASTER!’ cried Dad, waving the frying pan as sausages cartwheeled onto the floor. Everyone started shouting at once.

‘DO SOMETHING!’

‘CALL 999!’

‘PUT IT OUT, PUT IT OUT!’

It was Mum who actually did something, grabbing a towel to beat out the flames. Two charred pieces of bread popped up from the toaster with a clunk and promptly disintegrated.

There was a silence broken only by the sound of chomping and slobbering. Oscar felt it would be a great pity to let sausages go to waste, so he was eating them off the floor. Mum went over and opened a window to let out the smoke, before collapsing onto a chair.

‘That toaster has got to go. Why can’t we have a normal one?’ she sighed.

‘It must have overheated,’ said Dad. ‘It’s easily fixed.’

Sam shook his head. ‘Well it’s a good job Oscar was paying attention,’ he said.

‘Oscar?’ said Dad.

‘Yes, I could hear him barking from upstairs,’ said Sam. ‘He was obviously trying to warn you!’

Dad blinked. ‘He was barking, come to think of it,’ he said. ‘I told him to shut up.’

Mum bent down to pat Oscar on the head.

‘Clever boy, Oscar, well done!’ she said.

Oscar swallowed the last piece of sausage, which was hanging out of his mouth.

Oscar was clever, of course, though Sam knew his parents had no idea how clever. Ever since Oscar had arrived a few months ago on the number 9 bus, Sam had the feeling that the dog had adopted them. It was Oscar who had helped Mr Shilling sell his new invention, the Poopomatic, to the Town Council. These days a small fleet of Poopomatics patrolled the streets of Little Bunting keeping them clean and free from dog mess. This was the first time Mr Shilling had ever actually sold one of his inventions and Sam had been wondering what he planned to do with all the money. He poured himself a bowl of Puffo Pops since Oscar had wolfed all the sausages.

‘What was I saying before the toaster exploded?’ asked Dad. ‘Oh yes. A decent cup of coffee, that’s what this town needs.’

‘I’d rather have an adventure playground,’ said Sam.

‘Anyway, why do you keep going on about coffee?’ asked Mum.

Mr Shilling smiled with the air of someone about to make an important announcement.

‘Because,’ he said, ‘I’ve just bought a little cafe on the seafront.’

‘WHAT?’ Mum almost fell off her seat. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘It’s perfect,’ said Dad. ‘It’s an old beach hut in a great spot down on the front. I thought it could be a summer season thing while I work on my inventions in the winter.’

Sam could hardly believe his ears.

‘We’re going to run a cafe?’ he asked.

‘It’s news to me,’ said Mum.

‘I’ll take you to see it,’ promised Dad. ‘Honestly, I think this could be the best idea I’ve ever had.’

Sam smiled. His dad had said exactly the same thing about the Grandem – a four-saddle bike for all the family, which had failed to sell a single model. A cafe was different though, thought Sam, you wouldn’t fall off it while going round corners. Cafes served pizza, ice cream and chocolate brownies – which luckily were all things that he loved!

‘Are you telling me you’ve spent all of our savings on some old beach hut?’ demanded Mum.

‘Of course not all,’ said Dad. ‘I had to keep some back because the place needs a bit of work.’

‘And who’s going to run this cafe and cook all the meals?’ demanded Mum.

‘Well me, obviously,’ replied Dad.

‘Crumble!’ muttered Oscar to himself.

Dad looked round at Sam. ‘What did you say?’

‘Er . . . good idea,’ answered Sam, shooting Oscar a warning look. He was right about one thing though: no one could claim that Dad was famous for his cooking. His speciality was beans on toast – and even then the toast was usually burnt.