A Home for Molly

Chapter Two

Molly lay on the sand between Anya and Rachel, her eyes half-closed. One of the girls was scratching her behind the ears, just where she was itchy, and the sun was warm on her back. She could feel that she needed brushing, to get the sand and salt out of her coat, but she was warm and comfortable so she didn’t mind.

“Want to play cricket?”

Molly twitched her ears and looked up as the girls began to talk over her head. The boy was standing there with a ball so she jumped up with an excited little woof.

“Oh, she wants to play!” Anya laughed. “Do you like chasing balls, Molly, hey?”

“As long as she doesn’t eat my tennis ball,” Zach said doubtfully. “Still, I suppose she can fetch it if Lily hits it into the sea!”

“I won’t!” Lily yelled, stamping her foot and Molly edged back, looking worried.

“Oh, she’s scared. Careful, Lily, you frightened her, shouting like that. Good dog, Molly.” Rachel crouched down and fussed over her, and Molly licked her hand gratefully. She didn’t like it when people were loud. But she soon forgot that she’d been scared as she raced around for the ball, barking excitedly as the children laughed and chased after her.

“She’s the best fielder I’ve ever seen,” Zach said, grinning. “Come on, Molly. Give me the ball! Come on – oh no, Molly! I could have got Rachel out if you hadn’t held on to it.”

“She’s on our side,” Rachel said smugly. “Good dog, Moll. Oh, look, Mum’s got biscuits. I’ll give you one when she’s not looking.”

Molly wagged her tail blissfully and wolfed down the sweet biscuit, looking hopefully over to the girls for more.

Anya giggled. “Oh, go on, then. You can have half of mine – I’m not that hungry. I suppose you’re growing, you need the energy!”

Molly gobbled the biscuit and flopped down on Anya’s feet, sleepy after all the racing around that she’d done. She was still hungry, of course, but the biscuits had been very, very good.

It was one of the best afternoons that Anya had had in ages. But all too soon, Rachel’s mum and dad were rolling up their rugs and sending everyone to find the spades and bodyboards and balls that they’d left scattered over the sand.

“Will you be on the beach tomorrow?” Rachel asked hopefully, and Anya nodded. She’d wanted to ask the same thing, but what if Rachel didn’t want her hanging around with them again?

“Oh, Rachel, I think we might be going to that adventure park tomorrow,” her mum said, looking up from packing away all the damp swimming things. “We’re not quite sure. But maybe we’ll see you the day after, Anya?”

Anya nodded and smiled, then wandered back to Mum, Dad and Jessie.

“Weren’t they friendly?” her mum said, smiling. She’d chatted to Rachel’s mum and dad for a bit, when she’d come over to check on Anya.

“They probably aren’t coming to the beach tomorrow, though,” Anya sighed, flumping down on to the sand next to Mum.

“Well, I owe you a swim. We’ll definitely do that tomorrow,” Dad pointed out. “It’s getting a bit chilly now that the wind’s picking up. Might be time to think about going back to the cottage. Don’t worry, Anya. I promise you’ll have fun tomorrow. I’ll take you in the sea and we could bring the kite down, too.”

Anya smiled at him. Dad was right – she would love going in the sea for a proper swim. It was just that everything seemed a bit quiet and flat now without Rachel and the others.

“I’ve just thought of something,” Dad said, looking worried.

“What?” Anya asked anxiously – Dad was really frowning.

“We’ve been on the beach for a whole day and none of us have had an ice cream!”

“Oh, Dad! I thought something terrible had happened!” Anya grinned.

“That is terrible! Come on. Help me fold up the picnic rug and we’ll go to the ice-cream shop on the way back.”

Molly watched as the children trailed away along the path up to the top of the cliff, laden down with bags and buckets and sandy shoes. They had fussed over her and petted her all afternoon, and for the first time in ages she had felt as though she had really belonged to someone. But now they were going and she was left behind again.

She had tried to follow them, but the older girl had shooed her back. “Go on, Molly! Go home! Go and find your owners – that’s them over there, isn’t it? Those boys?”

Molly gave a hopeful whimper and tried again, trotting along behind them, but the man had pushed her gently back towards the beach and told her no. She knew they wouldn’t let her stay, even if she did sneak after them again.

So she went back to the beach and sat by the little kiosk that sold the ice creams and beach toys. They had a bowl of water outside for dogs and she was thirsty after running around in the sun all afternoon. The kiosk sold bacon rolls and sandwiches as well, and she’d found leftovers in their bins before. But she couldn’t go scuffling through the bins until later on, or the owner would shout at her and chase her away.

“That’s such a cute little dog,” a girl said, as she came away from the kiosk, carrying an ice cream. “I wonder who she belongs to?”

The girl’s mother looked over at Molly and smiled. “Oh, she’s with that family sitting down by the steps. I saw them playing with her. She is sweet, isn’t she?”

The beach was emptying out now, just a few people left and all of those slowly packing up their things. The families with beach huts began to put away their chairs and tables, and Molly watched them hopefully, wondering if there would be any scraps left when they’d gone.

The lady who ran the ice-cream kiosk came out to fold up her shutters, and Molly skittered away behind one of the beach huts before the lady could shout at her. She scurried along behind the line of huts and came out by the steps. She would go and sniff along the line of broken shells and seaweed down by the sea. She’d found things to eat mixed up in there before.

Molly dragged her paws over the deep sand, feeling weary. She had loved playing with the children that afternoon, but now she was worn out and so hungry. The seaweed smelled strong and salty and there was another smell – a hopeful sort of smell. A fish! She scrabbled at it excitedly with her paw and it broke up into bits.

Molly sneezed at the smell – it had been dead for a while and didn’t smell very nice. It was dry and leathery from lying there all afternoon in the hot sun. She could just about remember the delicious bits of fish she used to get as a treat when she’d lived with her owners, before she was a stray – this fish smelled quite different. But Molly was too hungry to be fussy. She wolfed it down, even the bones and the dried-up skin.

After the fish, Molly padded along the sand to the little hollow under the patch of marram grass. This was the wilder end of the beach, past the concrete promenade, where the road led down to the harbour. It was never as busy, so there wasn’t as much chance of scraps from a picnic. But the dunes were a quiet place to sleep. Molly had found a sandy hole under a big clump of grass a few weeks before. She’d then dug it out a little more, so that it made a nest just large enough for a small dog to sleep under cover. She snuggled into it and curled up. Her stomach was hurting – the fish probably hadn’t been a good thing to eat. But it had been all there was.