Free Frankie and Stankie by Barbara Trapido Page A

Dinah’s mum always tries to stop the girls from taking Punch for walks, but they whine and plead so much that she relents.
    â€˜Don’t let go of his lead,’ she says, but, faced with Punch’s invariable assaults on other dogs twice his size, this is what they always do. They drop the lead and run screaming home in panic.
    â€˜Ma-aa! Punch is
fighting
!’
    Punch has no idea of his own limitations and one day he attacks a bull mastiff. The dog tries at first to retain his dignity by ignoring the little upstart, but, finally, when Punch’s taunts, growls, nips and exhortations become too irritating, the bull mastiff simply leans down and takes Punch’s left ear in his great jaws. And there Punch has to stay, with his head twisted sideways, trying all the while to balance on his stumpy little hind legs. He is whimpering pathetically, but the mastiff’s jaws have locked and he can’t or won’t let go. Passers-by all have helpful suggestions.
    â€˜Twist his tail,’ says one.
    â€˜Light a match under his nose,’ says another.
    Finally, a helpful householder comes out with a zinc bucket full of cold water, which he throws over the head of the bull mastiff. It works. The dog is so surprised that his jaws unlock and he lets go.
    Punch is a sociable and greedy little dog, so the Butcher Estate suits him well. He joins in all the children’s games and, in the evening, when a range of supper-time smells issues from all the stable-type kitchen doors that open on to the green, he lifts his nose in the air and makes his choice about which family to visit. Liver is a big favourite with Punch and, since this is a carnivorous era – an era of brisket and offal and innards; of tripe and trotters and stuffedhearts; an era before Anglo-Saxons have thought to fill red peppers with couscous, or to throw white wine over arborio rice – Punch is often in luck. Dinah even forgives him when a budgie goes missing and Punch is to be observed with blue feathers around his mouth. She writes a poem about the episode, with a mournful repeating refrain:
    Sing woe for Joey
    Eaten by a dog.
    Dinah can’t bring herself to name the dog in question.
    At school, Sally is Dinah’s best friend. This is because Sally says so. Sally is much bigger than Dinah and her dad is the butcher at the Overport shops. She has short hair because her mum won’t let her grow it. Sally says that, because Dinah is her best friend, she can’t play with anybody else. Class One spends most of its playtime rustling up numbers for games that never happen because the bell goes before they’ve had a chance to begin, but it’s the preparation for the games that always looks the most fun. It begins with two girls linking arms and skipping through the playground.
    â€˜Who wants to play
Nau-augh-ty Babies?
’ they chant.
    Anyone wanting to play joins the line and the skipping chant continues. The line gets longer and longer, and the chorus gets louder and louder. Often the line gets so long that an intermediate game develops which involves sweeping into all the other smaller games and swallowing them up. Sometimes the chorus line stops in front of Dinah and someone will ask her directly to come and play, but Sally always puts out a hand across Dinah’s chest.
    â€˜She’s not playing with YOU,’ she says, ‘because she’s MY friend.’
    Dinah looks longingly at the chorus line because the skipping and the chanting look so jolly. And being Sally’s friend means letting Sally undo her plaits every day and then do them up again. Dinah knows that Sally’s efforts make her look silly because she always gets too much hair in one plait and not enough in the other. Plus she makes a zigzag parting all down the back. Sometimes one plait is a lot higher than the other. One will sprout from above her right ear while the other will be coming from the left side of hernape. And Sally