Free Labradoodle on the Loose by T.M. Alexander

idea,’ said Louis.
    â€˜We’re entrepreneurs,’ said Patrick.
    â€˜Shelf-stacking’s not for ever,’ said Louis.
    â€˜We hope.’ They said it together again, and laughed. They laughed almost all the time in fact. Being at Bee’s in the charge of her brothers was fun, better than laser tag or a football party.
    â€˜Make way,’ shouted Louis. He was carrying a tray with even more food, but this time it really was pudding. We tried to clear a space but there were too many dishes and too many people passing them in too many different directions.
    Bee took over. ‘Jonno, put the dirty plates by the sink. Fifty – you’re on knives and forks. Copper Pie, take the pasta bowl and put it by the cooker. Keener, can you take the big pot and put it
on
the cooker? I’ll put the sauce back in the fridge.’ We all did as we were told. It was worth it – Louis placed a massive pavlova filled with strawberries and fluffy white cream on the table, followed by a brown and yellow custardy-looking thing. (No prizes for guessing which one I wanted.)
    Patrick picked up the whole pavlova, tipped the plateand pretended to let it slide into his mouth. Louis took it off him and started dishing out.
    â€˜Leave room for the birthday girl’s birthday cake,’ he said. ‘The best is yet to come.’
    We all groaned. Bee’s mum really knows how to cook. If we lived with Bee we’d all be the size of yetis. I loaded my spoon with equal amounts of meringue, cream and straw-berry, opened my mouth and scoffed. It was good. I was happy. The sponsored silence was no fun whatsoever but Bee’s last-minute party was great.
    But unfortunately it was all about to go wrong – big time.

Slim, Bodger, Rasher and Teapot
    The back door opened.
    â€˜Hey, Slim,’ said Patrick. ‘Come and feast.’
    Someone called Slim came in. He was skinny. ‘What’s happening?’ he said.
    â€˜It’s Bee’s birthday.’
    â€˜Happy birthday, Bee,’ said Slim.
    Bee didn’t smile. I got the feeling Slim wasn’t her favourite person, or maybe she just didn’t want him at her party.
    The conversation slowed down, partly because pudding was delicious, and partly because Patrick stayed over by the cooker chatting to Slim, who was eating the leftover meat stew straight from the pot with a serving spoon. There was a knock on the door and it opened again.
    â€˜Hey, Bodger,’ said Patrick. In came someone calledBodger. He had hair redder than Copper Pie’s and curlier than Fifty’s, sticking out like a frill from under a blue and green stripy beanie.
    â€˜Any left?’ said Bodger. There was nodding from Slim. They shared the serving spoon. Bee definitely wasn’t smiling.
    â€˜OK, everyone,’ said Louis. ‘I think it’s cake time.’ He disappeared out of the door to the hall and came back a couple of minutes later with about fifty candles burning on top of a mound of chocolate. He started the singing.
    â€˜Buon Compleanno a te
,
    â€˜Buon Compleanno a te
,
    â€˜Buon Compleanno cara Beatrice
,
    â€˜Buon Compleanno a te
.
    We all joined in, in English, except Patrick who was in a huddle with Bodger and Slim. Bee did one massive puff and blew all the candles out.
    â€˜Are you cutting the cake, Bee?’ asked Louis.
    â€˜Of course.’ Bee took the knife and started slicing. I didn’t think I was going to fit it in but the sponge bit was like eating a sweet cloud and the chocolate bit was heaven so I managed.
    We’d been sitting at the table for ages so I was quite glad when Bee got up. She offered to help clear but Louis said he’d do it. Patrick seemed to have forgotten it was Bee’s birthday. We abandoned the kitchen for the comfy sofa in front of the telly. Five of us squashed on together which left Fifty to sit on the footstool.
    Bee had chosen
The Italian Job
– the original