would be slices of dried-up chicken, and on Monday it would be fish cakes and mashed-up carrots. Pudding was always stewed fruit. The endless, pale-coloured meals stretched on and on.
Sally ate her breakfast very quickly, so that she could escape.
She would have to find Amber and get the telephone number again, unless, by trying really hard, she could actually remember it for herself. Appleford – it was definitely Appleford – 661, that was it! But then she wasn’t sure. Could it have been Appleford 116? Sally thought and thought. She was certain it was one or the other. Then she had an idea. She could try both numbers; she could go home and use their own phone.
Mrs Spinks had a long thin garden with vegetables right at the end, and she’d gone out to see how everything was growing. Sally left a note on the kitchen table.
Gone to feed my mouse and do plants.
Might go and see my friend Amber.
Back soon.
Love from Sally
Because she thought Mrs Spinks might be cross with her, for going off without permission, she added a few kisses, although Mrs Spinks was not really that sort of person.
‘Appleford 661, Appleford 116, Appleford 661.’ Sally kept repeating the numbers as she let herself into their house. She went quickly through the hall where Grandfather lay in pieces (she did not look at him) and along the corridor into the kitchen where the phone was. The plants were droopy and the kitchen had a stale, unused smell, but Sally went straight to the phone, before she forgot the numbers.
She picked up the telephone and a lady said, ‘Number, please?’
‘Appleford 116,’ replied Sally.
‘Hold the line, I will try it for you,’ the lady said next and there were some clicking noises. But then she said, ‘Madam, is it a company you are calling?’
Sally hesitated. ‘Er, no, it’s not a company. It’s. . . I’ve been told I can talk to God, on this number.’
There was a little gap, then Sally heard the lady talking to someone, at her end, and laughing. Then she said, ‘God what, Madam? What is the second name of the person you are calling, please?’
‘There is no second name,’ said Sally. ‘It’s just God. My friend told me the number was Appleford 116. But it could have been Appleford 661. I’ve got a bad memory.’
‘Hold the line, please,’ the lady requested. She had stopped laughing now and seemed more helpful. ‘I will try that number for you.’
Sally waited. She heard three rings then the phone was picked up, and a man’s voice said ‘Hello? Hello?’ He sounded very annoyed that Sally hadn’t answered immediately. She said, ‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ (that was how Mum always began), ‘but I’ve been given this number for talking to God.’
‘Don’t be so damn silly,’ said the man, and he slammed the phone down.
Tears stung behind Sally’s eyelids. But then she thought of the heap of wood and glass lying all over the hall carpet, the heap that had once been Grandfather. Then she thought of Mum getting back from the hospital and walking into the hall, and seeing only a long shadow on the wall, where the clock had been, and she just knew she had to get it mended. So she picked up the phone again and asked the lady who answered (a different one this time) to try Appleford 116 again.
This time the lady managed to get a phone to ring, at her end of the line, so Appleford 116 was a real number! Sally held her breath. But the phone just rang and rang.
She was just about to give up when a voice said, ‘Hello, this is the Paradise Centre. How may I help you?’
Her heart skipped a beat; this sounded more promising. Wasn’t ‘Paradise’ something to do with God?
‘How may I help you?’ the voice said again.
‘Um, I’m not quite sure,’ said Sally uncertainly.
Quite suddenly the voice became very crisp and bossy. ‘Well,’ it said, ‘we have several services we can offer you at this time. We represent Paradise Sales and also Paradise Holidays. And we have a new line, Paradise Pets. While you are away we can look after your cat and your dog. We can feed your tropical fish. We can—’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Sally said, interrupting. ‘I think I must have been given the wrong number.’
And before she could say anything else the crisp, bossy person had slammed her phone down. But Sally did not burst into tears, or crash around the kitchen in a rage, though she very much wanted to do both. She just sat on the floor and had a very long think.
At last, she stood up. She had made a decision. There was only one thing left to do. She must find Amber and get the correct number from her.
Very quietly, because Mrs Spinks might hear from over the wall, Sally went down the garden and pulled her bicycle out of the shed. She pushed open the back gate, closed it very quietly and pedalled quickly down the lane. This was the weekend the Fair left town and they would be packing up. She must hurry.
But when she reached the field where the Fair had been she found nothing left except a lot of paper blowing about. There were only some smoking black rings where fires had been and a little white dog that whined underneath a broken down cart, a dog that looked as if it had been left behind.
Quickly, Sally climbed back on to her bicycle and set off across the next two fields, towards the big main road and the lay-by where Amber’s caravan had been. But she got there just in time to see the last of the caravans setting off, for the next town. Amber’s was right at the back, pulled by a brown and white horse. It was buttercup yellow with a bright red chimney and it had been her great grandfather’s. It must be as old as Mum’s clock.
Sally started to pedal very fast, and to wave, and to ring her bell. ‘Amber!’ she shouted. ‘Amber!’
A face appeared in the doorway of the caravan. ‘What do you want?’ it said crossly. ‘We’re off to the next town.’
‘Please stop,’ Sally called out. ‘I’ve lost that number. Mrs Spinks washed my dress and it was in the pocket. Please, Amber.’
‘Please what?’ The horse was clop-clopping quite fast along the road and Amber’s face was turning into an egg-shaped blur, she was nearly out of sight. But Sally couldn’t pedal any faster. She was puffing hard, and her legs ached horribly.
‘The number!’ she yelled. ‘What was that special phone number?’
By now the yellow caravan was almost out of sight. Amber shrugged at first, and shook her head, but then, all of a sudden, she started to draw in the air with her finger. ‘6-1-6’ she was writing then she yelled, ‘616! It’s Appleford 616!’
At that
