Free Drawing with Light by Julia Green Page A

Next minute, the doors are flung back and the ambulance men go through with Bob strapped on to the stretcher, and a crowd of library staff following behind. Cassy’s carrying Bob’s scruffy old bag.
    â€˜Em! Wait there! I’ll be back in a minute!’ Cassy says as they rush past.
    I sit on the step with my arm round Mattie, even though she is a bit smelly and flea-ridden. The ambulance siren starts up again. A crowd of people push forward to get a look through the window.
    Footsteps trudge back up the stairs: Cassy plonks herself down next to me and bursts into tears.
    â€˜What’s happened?’
    â€˜Oh, Em, it was horrible. Bob just keeled over. I think he must have had a heart attack or something. He looked awful. All grey and shaky.’
    â€˜What shall we do about Mattie? We can’t just leave her here.’
    â€˜I don’t know – we’ll have to call the police, I suppose. They’ll take her somewhere safe.’
    â€˜Where, though? How will Bob get her back? He’ll be worried sick!’
    â€˜I don’t know, Emily! There’s nothing more we can do.’ Cassy starts crying again: big, juddering tears like a little child.
    Beside me on the top step, Mattie stretches herself out with a big sigh and puts her nose on her paws. She’s trembling.
    â€˜We can’t just hand Mattie over to some police person who won’t care about her,’ I say. ‘Anything might happen to her. We owe it to Bob. I’m going to phone Dad.’
    It’s pretty hard getting Mattie into the car. She digs her heels in. In the end Dad has to lift her into the boot.
    I fetch her old blanket from the alcove, to make her feel at home.
    Cassy screws up her nose. ‘It’s disgusting, it stinks and it’s covered in fleas. Just like Mattie, in fact. We can’t take her home with us, Emily.’
    â€˜We can drop her off at the police station,’ Dad says. ‘They deal with lost dogs all the time. They have a special dog warden.’
    â€˜Mattie’s not lost,’ I say.
    â€˜Homeless, then.’
    â€˜That’s not her fault. If the dog warden gets his hands on her he might not let Bob ever have her back, when he comes out of hospital.’
    â€˜If,’ Dad says, under his breath.
    â€˜They might give her away or have her put down or anything! It’s not fair. Why can’t we keep her, just till we know how Bob is?’
    Bit by bit I wear them down.
    Dad stops off at the supermarket on the way back. I put a bag of dry dog food and some tins in the trolley, and choose a collar and lead for Mattie. She’s only got a bit of string round her neck at the moment.
    â€˜Just for tonight, then,’ Dad says. ‘And she’ll have to sleep outside. She’ll stink the place out. She’ll be fine. She’s used to being out in all weathers.’
    â€˜But she has Bob for company,’ I say. ‘She’ll be lonely and cold all by herself. We could wash her? Then she won’t smell so much.’
    â€˜No!’ Cassy says. ‘Absolutely no. One night only, tied up outside. While we think what to do. I’ll phone the hospital in the morning and see how Bob is.’
    Later, in bed, I phone Seb to tell him what has happened.
    â€˜I always wanted a dog, when I was little,’ he says. ‘But Dad wouldn’t let us.’
    â€˜What are you doing tomorrow?’ I ask.
    â€˜Nothing much.’
    â€˜You could come over,’ I say. ‘After school. We could take Mattie for a walk.’
    â€˜OK,’ Seb says. ‘I could meet you from school, if you like? Get the bus with you. Mum needs the car for work, otherwise I’d drive.’
    â€˜I’ve got a job now too!’ I say.
    Seb doesn’t talk much after that. I guess he feels bad or something, about not having a job himself. But he says he’ll meet me at three thirty. At the bus stop.
    All night I keep waking up,