From Geek to Goddess (Zodiac Girls) Read online

  Ruth shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. He’s been very good. He’s a really special dog.”

  As she sat there stroking him, I thought I hadn’t seen her so happy in all the time I’d known her. And then something hit me. Suddenly, I knew what it meant that I was the Lady of the Beasts.

  “Ruth,” I said. “I’ve just had the most brilliant idea.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darned dog

  Ruth looked horrified. “Keep Bertie here? But you know dogs aren’t allowed. Where? How? For how long?”

  “We can keep him in here. We can sneak food up to him. It’s only for a few hours.”

  Ruth was shaking her head. “No. We’ll get into real trouble.”

  “I’ll take responsibility if we get caught, and it’s only until later.”

  “But why? What difference is a couple more hours going to make?”

  “All the difference. Remember the Outreach programme? The visit to Chiron House?”

  Ruth nodded. “Yes. I’m going later.”

  “So am I, now that Dad’s out of the way. And remember Mrs Blain said that we had to take something with us when we visit?”

  Ruth’s jaw dropped. “She meant take a book or a cake or something. Not an animal. Not Bertie! Are you out of your mind?”

  “No. I’ve never been more certain about anything. It’s the right thing to do. I saw a programme on telly over the summer holidays about using animals as therapy. It was amazing. They have astounding results with people in homes. People who never spoke opened up, and others who were very sad became happier, and… and it lowers blood pressure, and good stuff like that.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, Ruth. When I saw you with Bertie just now, it all clicked into place. What I’m meant to do. And I’m sure that this is what Hermie’s been hinting about – you know, Lady of Beasts, join the Outreach programme, saying that there are lonely people everywhere, not just in schools. Don’t you see? It’s obvious! He meant the old ladies.”

  Ruth shook her head but her lack of enthusiasm didn’t put me off. I knew taking Bertie to the Old People’s home and starting my own animal-therapy programme was what I was meant to be doing. Thanks to Nessa, I now knew that it was my calling as Lady of the Beasts.

  “Dad’s got to go and do a road rescue so he’ll be gone a while. It’s too brilliant. Like fate made a car break down so that Dad would have to leave Bertie here. It will be great. If anyone knocks, shove Bertie in the cupboard, and if he barks, cough like mad, as though you’ve got a terrible chest infection.”

  Ruth looked horrified. “Woah. Gemma. Calm down. Think this through. I mean, fate?”

  I felt dizzy with excitement. “Yes! Fate! Destiny is calling. The stars are in place. I am the Zodiac Girl…”

  Ruth shook her head. “I think you’ve gone mad.”

  “No. Ruth, this is why I am the Lady of the Beasts. Don’t you see? Everything has been leading up to it. I am meant to make this happen. To make other people happy through Bertie. Like Joan of Arc. And Madame Curie. They were both Zodiac Girls too. I am meant to comfort the old by taking animals to visit them.”

  Ruth was still looking at me as though I’d grown an extra head. “But Madame Curie discovered radioactivity and Joan of Arc led France into battle against the English. And then she was found guilty of witchcraft and burnt at the stake.”

  “Oh… was she? Hmm. Hermie didn’t mention that bit. But he did say that Zodiac Girls all have a different calling. And I’m sure that this is mine. You needn’t worry. No one’s going to burn me at the stake for this.”

  Ruth raised an eyebrow, like she thought that was exactly what was going to happen.

  Getting rid of Dad was a doddle, as he was eager to get off and do his road rescue. After making me promise to search high and low for Bertie, he said he’d be back later to pick him up. Then he sped off in his trusty old van.

  And now it’s time for me to do my rescue job, I thought as energy surged through me. I felt like someone had recharged my flat battery. Plugged me into an electricity source. Be the fighter you are, Hermie had said. I would. I felt invincible. I would heal the sick, comfort the old, entertain orphaned children, save the whales… Everyone would love Bertie. I’d be a hero and everyone would be happy and both of us would be so popular.

  I snuck some pastries up to the room and Bertie wolfed them down in one gulp. Then we waited until it was time to go and visit the home.

  “How are you going to get him out?” asked Ruth. “Someone’s bound to notice you. Did any other parents bring pets?”

  “Ah, no,” I said. “But it needn’t be a problem. I’ll put him in my little wheelie case. But other pets. Hey, good idea Ruth. Next week, I’ll put up a notice inviting girls to bring their animals and we can take a whole load down. By then, everyone will have seen how it works so Chiron House will welcome them all.”

  “Noooo,” Ruth wailed. “Gemma, please. Just get today over with.”

  I saw her point. Maybe it was a bit over-ambitious to take more than one dog on the first few visits. But I had visions of the future. I would develop my animal-therapy programme so that there would be girls going into old people’s homes all over the place, all over the country, all over the world, with their pets.

  At two o’clock, Ruth began to get her things ready to go to Chiron House.

  “I’ll see you there,” I said as I stroked Bertie’s head. “I’ll wheel him down. It’s only five or ten minutes down the drive. Tell Mrs Blain that I’m walking down.”

  “Will she allow you on your own?”

  “Course. Look, if you’re worried, tell her that I was seeing Dad off. She’ll understand when I explain later.”

  “Okay. But I hope you won’t get expelled or anything,” she said in her usual worried way.

  “Not likely,” I said. She really didn’t see. I’d probably get a medal, or an article written about me in the paper. Lady of Beasts alive and well and living locally. Then a TV station would pick up on it and I’d be interviewed for the news. And then I’d be a celebrity and… and maybe be taken to London to meet the Prime Minister, maybe even the Queen. I felt brilliant, better than I had in weeks.

  After Ruth had gone, I waited in the room for ten minutes, then went down to check that everyone going to the Home had left and that most of the others had gone into Bugsy rehearsals.

  Once I was certain that they had, I went back up to get Bertie.

  I pulled my wheelie case off the top of the wardrobe, put it on the floor and unzipped it.

  “In,” I commanded as I pointed at the case.

  Bertie wagged his tail and jumped on the bed.

  “In,” I said again while still pointing at the case.

  Bertie didn’t move apart from to keep wagging his tail.

  I lifted him off the bed and attempted to put him in the case. Sadly, he thought it was a game, and as soon as I let go, he leapt back on the bed.

  I tried again.

  “In the case,” I said as he tried to lick my face. “In the case.”

  “Woof,” he said and jumped out, then went and hid under the bed with his nose sticking out under the bedspread.

  “This isn’t a game, Bertie,” I said.

  “Woof,” he said again.

  I tried to drag him out, but he wasn’t having it and dug his front paws into the carpet.

  “I know what will get you out,” I said, and went to my drawers to find a biscuit. I got a choc-chip cookie and held it out to him.

  He was out like a shot and gulped it down. Then I grabbed him and stuffed him into the wheelie case. Almost there, I thought as I began to zip round him. I almost had it done when I realized that his right leg was still out. I let go of his front paws and put his right leg in the case. He stuck the left one out.

  “Bertie!” I cried in exasperation. “Just get in the case.”

  He looked at me quizzically and licked my hand. I grabbed the stray leg with one hand then quick
ly zipped up the zipper around him with the other hand.

  He gave me one of Ruth’s what-on-earth-are-you-doing-now? looks as his face disappeared into the case. I left a few inches open so that he could breathe and, quick as a flash, he’d stuck a paw through it and was trying to open it.

  “Stay still, Bertie,” I said as I stuffed his paw back down.

  He let out a soft whine, then, at last, seemed to settle in the case.

  I opened the door and looked left, then right down the corridor. All clear. I headed for the stairs. I couldn’t wheel the case down the stairs, so I lifted it up and staggered down. It was really heavy. Inside the case, Bertie had begun struggling again and his nose was poking out of the opening.

  “Stay in,” I urged him, praying that no one would come out and see me. Luckily, no one did, so I made it to the bottom of the stairs, then made a dash for the front door.

  Outside at the front, I put the case down. So far so good, I thought as I hurriedly began wheeling the case down the driveway, trying to look as cool as I could. I’d just reached the end of the courtyard when I heard a voice.

  “Whiting!”

  I turned to see Dr Cronus coming after me.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked, looking at my case. “Not running away, are we?”

  We running away? We? Omigod. Does he know Bertie’s in the case? For a moment I panicked, then realized that “we” was just a figure of speech. He meant was I running away?

  “No, sir. Outreach programme, sir,” I said. “Mrs Blain asked me to take some books down to Chiron House and they were heavy, so I thought I’d wheel them down.”

  Dr Cronus narrowed his eyes and scrutinised me closely. I held my breath and hoped that Bertie was doing the same.

  “Off you go, then,” said Dr Cronus and he turned to go back to the school.

  As I began to wheel away, Bertie let out a soft bark as if to say, Hey, I’m still in here. I began to fake a coughing fit as Dr Cronus turned back.

  “Hayfever, sir,” I said.

  “In September?”

  “It’s the eucalyptus, sir. It gets me every time.”

  Dr Cronus rolled his eyes. “See Matron when you get back.”

  “Yes, sir, doctor, sir,” I said, then I legged it as fast as I could with the wheelie case in tow down the driveway.

  Halfway there, the case began to feel really heavy, even though it was on wheels. The distance from the bottom of the drive to Chiron House took a couple of minutes in the car, but by foot, it was another matter. As soon as we were round a corner and out of sight of the school, I unzipped the case, let Bertie out and put him onto his lead.

  He was delighted to be out in the open and began to run ahead, dragging me with him. I did my best to keep up with him but he was too strong for me, and in the end, he pulled the lead out of my hand. He raced off down the drive and round the next corner. I chased after him, but as I turned the corner, there was no sign of him.

  “Oh no,” I cried. “Bertie. Bad dog. Heel.”

  Only silence greeted me.

  Fifty yards away, I could see Chiron House.

  Oh, hell and Horlicks, I thought. Now what? Now I really have lost Bertie. Dad’s going to kill me when he gets back.

  I stood on the driveway not knowing which way to turn. Whether to go back, forward or just lie down and cry.

  Dad was right. Darned dog. How could I ever have thought Bertie could comfort the old when he drove the young completely and utterly bonkers?

  “BERTIE!!!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oops!

  I started to walk back to the school. Best just go and wait for Dad and tell the truth, I thought. No point in going on to Chiron House now. I’d never be able to concentrate. I felt completely defeated.

  As I made my way back up the driveway, I suddenly heard a familiar roar. Hermie!

  I turned round to see the most amazing sight. Hermie was riding towards me on his motorbike, and sitting in front of him, paws up on the handlebars and ears blown back, was Bertie. I burst out laughing. They looked so ridiculous.

  Hermie pulled up besides me.

  “Lose someone?” he asked.

  I nodded. “He slipped his lead,” I said. “Thanks so much for bringing him back. Bad dog, Bertie.”

  Bertie turned and gave Hermie a lick.

  Hermie grinned and scratched Bertie’s ear. “He’s very sorry, aren’t you, boy? I found him out on the road. He seemed to enjoy the ride.”

  Bertie raised an ear and barked in agreement.

  “But how did you know he was mine?”

  Hermie turned his bike round. “He told me, of course,” he said. Bertie woofed in agreement then gave Hermie a last lick and jumped off the bike. “Catch you both later.” And he blasted off down the drive.

  “So now he can communicate with animals as well as everything else?” I said to Bertie as I put him back on his lead then turned to Chiron House. All was not lost. Once again, my hero Hermie had appeared out of the blue to my rescue.

  When we reached Chiron House, I knocked on the door and waited a few minutes but no one answered, so I tried the huge brass doorknob to see if it was open. It was, and Bertie and I slipped in. Behind reception was a girl who looked only a few years older than me. She was sitting with her feet up on the desk with her eyes closed and headphones on, so she didn’t hear us until we were almost on top of her. When she realized that someone was there, she almost leapt out of her skin.

  “Omigod!” she exclaimed as she removed the headphones. “You shouldn’t creep up on people like that.”

  “Oh. Sorry… didn’t mean to startle you…”

  “So? Waddayawant?”

  I made myself stand up tall and look confident. “I’m with the… er… the animal comfort for old folk programme. I… I haven’t seen you here before?”

  “Yeah. So?” said the girl with a shrug. “I’m standing in for my mum while she’s gone to the shops. I think some of your lot have gone in already.” She jerked her thumb down a corridor. “Down there. With all the wrinklies.”

  Phew, I thought. That was lucky. I had my story about animal therapy all straight in my head, but I was glad that it had been her at the desk and not Matron.

  I led Bertie in the direction that she’d pointed and there, through glass-panelled double swing doors, I could see the ladies having tea and sandwiches. A few of the girls from our school were talking or reading to their ladies, and Ruth was walking around with a tray of teacups.

  “Okay, Bertie, destiny awaits,” I said as I patted his head and took a deep breath. “It’s showtime, folks.”

  I opened the door and walked in.

  “WAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” shrieked Mrs Compton-Grime, her eyes popping out further than usual the moment she spotted Bertie. “MaT-ROOOOOON,” she screeched as she cowered back in her chair. “It’s a dog, a nasty dirty dog. Get him out of here. Get HIM OUT OF HERE!”

  Another of the ladies dropped her teacup, while the others stared in amazement as Bertie, being the friendly soul that he is, raced over and bounded onto Mrs Compton-Grime’s lap, where he started furiously licking her face.

  “ARRRGGH SPPLUURGGGG YUCCCHHH,” she shouted as she tried to push him off.

  Unfortunately, Bertie thought she was playing a game and licked all the harder.

  “Smmurfffgruumphhh, off, get off,” she blustered and finally pushed Bertie off her lap. Suddenly airborne, Bertie managed a quick twist and landed with a soft thump on her knitting basket, knocking it over and creating a multicoloured torrent of wool as balls rolled off in all directions.

  Oh hell and Horlicks, I thought as he dived after them. He loves knitting wool as he used to play with it when he was a puppy.

  “Not my knitting, not my knitting, off, off, OFF,” cried Mrs Compton-Grime, desperately grabbing at a ball of her wool.

  Bertie immediately took this as a sign that another game had begun and tried to pull it out of her hand with his teeth.
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  I rushed over to try and get him away but he was off, the ball of wool firmly clamped in his mouth.

  “NO. STOOOOOP HIM,” cried Mrs Compton-Grime as she tried to grasp the four-legged rocket, but he was too fast for her and dived under a low table laid for tea. The cups rattled in their saucers and tea slopped a bit, but mercifully the cups stayed upright.

  From there, Bertie skidded round another chair and over a sofa. Then he repeated the action in reverse. By now all the girls were chasing him. A jumping, diving, slipping, sliding, laughing mob frantically followed the trail of bright red wool that now covered half the room. The old ladies watched in horrified silence as their tranquil sitting room turned into mayhem and at the centre of the chaos sat Mrs Compton-Grime. Round and round and round her chair ran Bertie until yards of wool had wrapped around her. Trapped by her own knitting wool, she was a prisoner in her own chair and screamed to the high heavens for Matron.

  “Ma-TROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”

  “Sorry,” I said as I made a dive for Bertie. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry.”

  Suddenly the ball of wool ran out and Bertie stopped dead in his tracks – as did his throng of pursuers, who collided with each other and ended up in an untidy pile of arms and legs at Mrs Compton-Grime’s feet.

  For a second or two there was silence.

  Disappointed by the red ball’s disappearance, an out-of-breath Bertie flopped on his tummy, legs splayed out on either side of him.

  It was time to make my move and I quietly approached him. Slowly I reached out and was about to grab him, when a cat popped its head out from under the sofa. Disturbed from a deep sleep, it had been observing the situation, wisely waiting until the madness stopped before attempting to escape. Unfortunately, it stepped right in front of Bertie, who perked up immediately. Oh no, I thought, chasing cats is another of Bertie’s favourite games.

  “Wooff GRRRR. Woof,” growled Bertie.

  “MeOOWWWWWW,” replied the cat.

  “Arrrghh,” sighed Mrs Compton-Grime and slumped back into her chair as if someone had let all the air out of her.