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Chomp
‘Dad!’
Although his head had only just hit the pillow, Drake sat bolt upright, instantly wide awake. When he heard Gosalyn call out for him again, he scrambled out of bed and darted from his own room into hers.
Given the typical mess of her room, it was difficult, at first, to see what – if anything – was amiss. There were clothes strewn all over the place, a few schoolbooks were heaped into one corner, while several comic-books were stacked carelessly by the bed, which was partially buried beneath a jumble of toys, gadgets and sports-equipment. How she managed to sleep in it, Drake couldn’t begin to imagine.
Gosalyn herself was kneeling up on a stool and peering into a cage that stood on top of a chest-of-drawers. The corners of her beak were turned downwards and her forehead was wrinkled with concern.
‘Gos?’
Gosalyn pulled her hand out of the cage and turned to look at him.
‘I think there’s something wrong with Chomp,’ she said. ‘He won’t eat anything and he’s just laid there.’
Chomp.
After weeks of her pestering, pleading and negotiating, followed by a surreal week of her bedroom being kept tidy, Drake had finally given in and agreed that Gosalyn could have a pet of her very own. Although she had initially decided on a snake or a crocodile, she had eventually been persuaded to opt for something much smaller and less likely to eat anyone. In the end, she had chosen a rather fuzzy-looking hamster, who she had immediately named Chomp.
A little annoyed that he had been disturbed for something so trivial, Drake sighed and looked into the cage. Amongst the debris of sawdust and shredded tissue, there was a bundle of dark grey fluff. The hamster was breathing, but he made no attempt to move when Drake carefully ran one finger along the arch of his back.
‘He wouldn’t even eat a fruit-drop,’ said Gosalyn, kneeling up again. ‘They’re his favourites.’
A number of the treats were lying untouched around the cage and the food-bowl was full too. Noting the sharp ridge of the hamster’s spine beneath his hand, Drake suspected he had lost a lot of weight overnight.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Gosalyn asked.
Drake closed the cage, resting his hand on Gosalyn’s shoulder.
‘I think he’s sick, sweetie,’ he said.
There was a pause, then Gosalyn leaned closer to the cage again, scowling down at Chomp.
‘But he was fine yesterday.’
‘I know, but –’
‘But he’ll get better, right?’
Drake sadly followed Gosalyn’s gaze, wishing that she had disturbed him for something more trivial. She sniffed, keeping her beak firmly clenched shut, struggling to stop it trembling.
‘Gos –’
‘We could ask the vet?’ Gosalyn suddenly rounded on Drake, brightening. ‘They’ll know what to do, won’t they?’
Although Drake doubted there was anything anybody could do, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
‘We can always ask,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll give them a call.’
He gently patted her shoulder and headed downstairs to find the phone-book.
It was Saturday morning, which, according to the notice in the phonebook, meant the surgery would be closed except for emergencies. Something told Drake that a sick hamster didn’t really classify as an emergency, but he dialled the number and waited.
To his surprise, a cheerful-sounding woman answered.
‘Good morning, St. Canard’s Animal Ark – Dr. Lizzie Thorn speaking.’
‘Hi …’ Drake glanced up to find Gosalyn staring at him from the top of the stairs. ‘Drake Mallard here. My daughter’s hamster seems to be sick and we wondered if someone could take a look at him?’
There was a pause and Drake waited for the inevitable reminder that the surgery was only open for emergencies. At the very least, he expected to be told that there would be nothing they could do.
‘What are the hamster’s symptoms?’ Dr. Thorn asked.
‘Well, he isn’t eating or moving,’ Drake answered. ‘I think he might have lost weight, too.’
‘I see …’ There was another pause. ‘And he belongs to your daughter?’
‘Yeah, she’s … she’s quite attached to him.’
‘Aw.’ Dr. Thorn gave a rather sympathetic chuckle. ‘They always are, aren’t they? Well, do you think you could get him to the surgery for eight?’
According to the clock on the wall, it was almost half-past seven. The drive into the city-centre would take about twenty minutes and Drake was still wearing his nightshirt.
Nevertheless …
‘I’ll be there,’ he said, somewhat relieved. ‘Thank you.’
By some miracle, both he and Gosalyn were fully dressed and in the care within ten minutes. They had found a small box with a lid to put Chomp in and Drake had tucked clean cloth around him as a blanket. Gosalyn had insisted on accompanying him, though she said very little on the journey. She sat in the passenger-seat, holding the box on her lap with her face turned towards the window. Every so often, she would lift one corner of the lid to take a peek at Chomp, but she always replaced it without a word.
They were met at the surgery’s reception by a tall mouse wearing a pale green t-shirt that had her name embroidered on the left shoulder. To his relief, it was the same woman that Drake had spoken to on the telephone.
‘Hello.’ She smiled, kneeling down to Gosalyn’s level. ‘You must be Chomp’s friend?’
Gosalyn nodded rather stiffly, still clutching the box in her hands. Dr. Thorn lifted the lid. She nudged the cloth aside and gently ran her fingers along Chomp’s back.
‘He is poorly, isn’t he?’ she said.
Drake expected her to stand up and put an end to the matter right there, but she didn’t.
‘Will you let me have a proper look at him?’ Dr. Thorn asked, holding her hands out for the box. ‘You can come with him if you want to.’
Without a word, Gosalyn let her take the box. Dr. Thorn stood up and opened a nearby door. Balling her hands into tight fists, Gosalyn marched straight through it. Drake followed, uttering a brief apology for Gosalyn’s gruff demeanour, though Dr. Thorn assured him it was understandable.
Nobody spoke as Dr. Thorn gently placed Chomp on a metal table. She felt along his back, then down both of his sides before listening for a heartbeat with a tiny stethoscope. Chomp remained still throughout, apart from when he tucked his head further underneath himself. At last, Dr. Thorn straightened up, though she continued to run a comforting hand through Chomp’s lank fur.
‘I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do,’ she said quietly.
One of Gosalyn’s eyelids flickered and her beak twitched.
‘Can’t you make him better?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid he’s just too sick.’ Dr. Thorn smiled gently. ‘I can make it easier for him, though, if you want me to.’
For a moment, Gosalyn just blinked at her with a blank expression.
‘You mean you …’ She closed her beak as comprehension dawned and she looked up at Drake like she did sometimes when she wanted a better explanation or a different answer to the one someone had already given her.
Drake swallowed the lump that was growing in his own throat. He had no answer to give.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’
A little cautiously, Gosalyn reached across the table to touch Chomp.
‘Will it … will it hurt him if you …’
‘No.’ Dr. Thorn shook her head. ‘He’ll just fall asleep.’
Gosalyn sniffed and wiped her beak on her arm, though no tears fell. She stepped back from the table, her hands curling into fists again.
‘Alright …’ She seemed to choke on the word. ‘I want to stay with him, though.’
‘Maybe we should wait outside,’ Drake said, catching a discreet glance from Dr. Thorn. ‘Come on.’
‘But we’ll take him home?’ Gosalyn asked.
‘Of course we will.’
Drake moved to put an arm around her, but she spun around and walked out of the room without a backward glance.
‘I just need you to sign here,’ Dr. Thorn said.
Drake ran his eyes over the form that Dr. Thorn had given him, though he didn’t really take in the words. He signed his name on the dotted line, then followed Gosalyn, closing the door behind him.
He sat down in one of the chairs and opened his arms, thinking Gosalyn might run into them, but she didn’t. Instead, she perched on another chair, wringing her hands. They both waited in silence and Drake became acutely aware of the sound of a clock ticking.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and Dr. Thorn appeared. She was holding the box. There was tape around the lid, holding it firmly in place.
Gosalyn took it from her before Drake could.
He paid the bill and they returned to the car.
On the journey home, Gosalyn again sat in silence, cradling the box on her lap, though she didn’t try to look inside of it. She stared pointedly out of the window, giving the occasional little sniff.
‘You did the right thing, you know,’ Drake said after a while. ‘Chomp was hurting and –’
‘Yeah, I know.’
Something on the edge of Gosalyn’s voice told Drake not to say anymore, so he didn’t. He wished he could say something to make everything better or that there had been some other solution.
He pulled into the driveway and they both got out of the car. Inside, they found Launchpad in the living-rom eating a bowl of cereals while he watched television.
‘Hi, guys!’ He turned off the television and put his empty bowl down. ‘I was just wondering where you two were.’
‘Hi, Launchpad,’ Drake answered. ‘We were at the vets.’
‘Oh.’ Launchpad’s cheery smile faded. ‘Is everything …’
Drake subtly shook his head, gesturing at the box in Gosalyn’s hand.
‘Aw, I’m sorry, kiddo.’ Launchpad knelt beside Gosalyn, putting an arm around her. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into the hug as she might usually have done, either. ‘How about we go out to the garden and say goodbye properly, eh? There’s a spot under the old tree – I think he’d like it there, don’t you?’
Gosalyn tilted her head on one side.
‘You mean like … a funeral?’ she asked, her words uncertain.
‘Yeah.’ Launchpad nodded. ‘Then I’ll make us all pancakes for breakfast – how about that?’
From the way her beak curled, Drake wondered if Gosalyn truly understood what Launchpad was talking about. She had been too young to attend her biological parents’ funeral, but he knew she could remember her Grandpa’s – she talked about it sometimes.
Perhaps the thought of another funeral – however small – was too much for her.
‘I guess …’ Gosalyn shrugged.
Although her expression remained cynical, she followed Launchpad into the kitchen and out to the back garden.
It was a sunny morning, but it was still early enough for a slight chill to cool the air. The old tree that occupied the corner of the garden rustled slightly, throwing patches of shade here and there.
Still clutching the box in her hands, Gosalyn watched in utter bemusement as Launchpad dug a small, deep hold in the earth that surrounded the tree.
She let Launchpad take the box from her and he carefully lowered it into the ground. For a fleeting moment, Drake saw Gosalyn’s shoulders slump, thought something had finally broken, but she only tensed up.
‘Do you want to say a few words?’ Launchpad asked.
‘No.’
Undaunted, Launchpad stood up and, clasping his hands together, he solemnly bowed his head.
‘Chomp – you were the greatest little hamster we’ve even known and a wonderful friend to Gosalyn …’
‘He was.’ Gosalyn hurried wiped a single teardrop from her face. ‘Bye, Chomp.’
With that, she turned and stalked back to the house. Drake watched her go, wondering if he ought to go with her.
‘Poor kid.’ Launchpad sighed, then picked up the shovel. ‘Well, so long, little buddy.’
He filled in the hole and placed a large rock on top of it to mark the place. Both he and Drake stood there for another minute before silently agreeing to go inside.
Launchpad immediately began pottering about the kitchen, so Drake headed upstairs to Gosalyn’s room. She had changed into her hockey shirt and she was busy wiping some mud from her helmet.
‘You okay, sweetie?’ Drake asked.
‘Yeah.’ She nodded without looking at him. ‘I’ve got practice soon – there’s a match next week.’
‘Yeah.’ Drake smiled. ‘That’ll be fun.’
‘Yeah.’ Gosalyn stood up and grabbed her hockey-stick, but paused, her eyes resting on the empty hamster cage.
Drake waited, ready to rush in and catch her.
‘I guess I should clean his cage,’ she muttered.
‘I’ll do that if you want,’ Drake answered, a little taken aback. ‘We’ll have breakfast first, then I’ll do it while you’re at practice.’
Gosalyn offered him a weak smile, her eyes shining.
‘Thanks Dad.’ She found her skates and swept out of the room, leaving Drake standing alone in the doorway.
Downstairs, the kitchen was laid for breakfast and Launchpad had already finished making the first batch of pancakes. He whistled happily to himself as he threw them onto a plate that he placed on the table.
‘One stack of special Launchpad pancakes just for you, Gosaroonie!’
Gosalyn sat down. After a small pause, she poured syrup over the pancakes. Usually, Drake would encourage her to eat blueberries with them or something, just to make them healthier, but not today. He accepted another plate from Launchpad and took his own place at the table.
‘So, kiddo, who are you playing next week?’ Launchpad asked, joining them.
‘Suzette Junior Champs,’ Gosalyn answered, toying with a piece of pancake without much enthusiasm. ‘They beat us last year.’
‘Ah well, you’ve been working really hard recently,’ Launchpad assured her. ‘I bet you’ll sweep them off the pitch this year.’
‘Maybe.’ Gosalyn took a bit of her pancakes and chewed very slowly.
When she swallowed, it seemed to take more effort than it should have done. She sipped some juice, then put her fork down.
‘I’m not …’ She closed her beak and tried again. ‘I’m not really hungry and I don’t want to be late, so can I …’ She gestured vaguely towards the door, but quickly got up and, without waiting for a response, she snatched her hockey things. ‘Thanks, Launchpad.’
She hurried from the kitchen. Seconds later, Drake heard the front door slam.
‘See you, Gos …’
Silence fell.
‘Ah, she’ll be alright,’ said Launchpad. ‘I remember losing my first pet frog. It broke my heart when he went – I thought I’d never be happy again, but after a few days, I just sort of carried on. I still miss him, but you have to know when to let go.’
‘Yeah?’ Drake picked up his mug of coffee. ‘I never had a pet.’
‘Really?’ Launchpad gave a sniff of amusement. ‘I thought every kid had a pet at some point.’
‘My parents weren’t really the pet-friendly type,’ Drake answered. He shook his head, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. ‘Chomp,’ he muttered to stop himself doing either. ‘What a stupid name for a hamster.’
They finished eating, then Launchpad received a call from someone who needed urgent assistance with a vehicle. Left alone, Drake cleared the breakfast things away and cleaned up the mess that Launchpad had created while cooking. After that, he headed upstairs to Gosalyn’s room to collect Chomp’s cage.
One of the conditions that Drake had made before finally agreeing to get Gosalyn a pet was that she had to be responsible for it. She had to feed it herself, change its water every day and regularly clean out its cage. Of course, she had made the promise without a second thought, but to Drake’s surprise, she had also kept it. Apart from the odd occasion when she had to be reminded, she always made sure that Chomp was happy and well looked after. She spent time handling him, tried to teach him little tricks and even spent her pocket money on treats and toys.
When he finished cleaning the cage, Drake couldn’t help but feel proud of how well Gosalyn had cared for Chomp … and, in hindsight, that wasn’t really a bad name.
He stored the cage in the garage and went back inside to put some laundry on.
Less than an hour later, he heard the front door open. Drake looked up from the computer game he was playing, expecting to greet Launchpad, but he was surprised when Gosalyn walked in.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Hello.’ He paused the game, checking his watch. ‘You’re back early.’
‘Yeah …’ Gosalyn shrugged. ‘I didn’t really feel like it.’
‘Oh – well, that’s okay.’ Drake put his controller to one side and stood up. ‘Are you hungry? I’ll make you a sandwich if you like?’
Gosalyn nodded and followed Drake into the kitchen. He poured her some juice, which she immediately gulped down, then began to construct some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
‘Why don’t you call round for Honker?’ he asked, thinking she might feel better in her friend’s company.
‘Nah – he’s working on Tank’s science-project,’ she answered.
Drake rolled his eyes at the thought, but he doubted Honker had needed too much persuasion before agreeing to help Tank.
He and Gosalyn returned to the living room. They sat together on the sofa, resting plates of sandwiches on their laps.
‘Do you want to play Whiffle Boy?’ Drake asked, gesturing to the paused game. ‘We can play in double-mode.’
Gosalyn looked at the television, chewing on her sandwich.
‘You’re halfway through level four,’ she said. ‘You’ve nearly finished the game.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Drake answered. ‘I can try again another day, if you …’ He trailed into silence as Gosalyn shook her head. ‘Or we could play a board-game – you can beat me at Monopoly again.’
‘Yeah …’ Gosalyn slid her plate with a half-eaten sandwich on it onto the table. ‘Maybe, but I’m just going to …’ She seemed lost for a moment, then grabbed her hockey-stick. ‘I’ll just take my things upstairs.’
‘Okay …’
Deciding to give her a few minutes, Drake returned his attention to the computer game, but he found he was no longer particularly interested in it. He kept pausing, trying to listen for any sound of movement from upstairs. It crossed his mind that Gosalyn had fallen asleep, but her snores usually carried down to the living-room.
After an hour, there was still no sign of her. Drake turned off the television and made his way upstairs.
‘Gos?’ Drake peered around her bedroom door. ‘Are you alright?’
Gosalyn was curled up on the bed with her back to the door.
‘Yeah.’ She didn’t move. ‘I just … I don’t want to play Monopoly, Dad.’
‘No.’ Drake took a step closer to her. ‘That’s fine – as long as you’re okay.’
‘I’m fine.’
Drake glanced around the room. It looked almost the same as it had that morning, except her hockey-things had been abandoned in a pile by the wardrobe and, of course, there was a large space on top of the chest-of-drawers.
He heisted before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed, though he resisted the urge to actually reach out to Gosalyn.
‘I put Chomp’s cage in the garage, so we know where it is if you want it,’ he said. ‘You know, if you wanted another hamster.’
There was no answer.
‘I mean …’ Drake paused, choosing his words carefully. ‘Not yet, but eventually you might decide –’
‘I don’t want another one.’
‘Well, I know you feel like that now, but give it a couple of weeks and –’
‘I don’t want one.’
Gosalyn’s voice was firm, but there was an odd creak to it. She buried her face into the pillow, turning further away from Drake and muttered something that he couldn’t quite hear.
After briefly clutching her arm, Drake stood up and returned to the door, but stopped.
‘You know, it is okay to be sad, Gosalyn,’ he said quietly.
When there was no response, he went back downstairs and threw the uneaten half of Gosalyn’s sandwich away. He washed the plates and made himself a cup of coffee that he didn’t particularly want – he was just at a loss for something to do
While the coffee brewed, he made a decision. He picked up the telephone and dialled the number of his next-door neighbours. Mrs Muddlefoot answered.
‘Hi, Binkie,’ he said. ‘I’m not working tonight, so you don’t need to look in on Gosalyn.’
‘Oh …’ Binkie sounded concerned. ‘Is everything alright?’
‘Yeah, everything’s fine – I’m just staying home tonight, that’s all.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, Drake.’
‘Yeah – thanks, Binkie. See you later.’
He hung up and poured coffee into his mug. To his relief, Launchpad returned at that moment, smelling faintly of engine oil and he was holding two carrier-bags – one much bulkier than the other.
‘I stopped by the supermarket on my way home and bought some things for dinner,’ he said cheerfully, taking some fresh burgers and two tubs of ice-cream out of the bulkier carrier-bag.
‘Thanks.’ Drake poured another mug of coffee for Launchpad. ‘I’ve told Binkie not to come over tonight, too. We’re having a night off – I don’t want to leave Gos on her own.’
Launchpad’s eyes positively glowed with excitement.
‘Maybe we can have a movie-night, then?’ he said, grinning.
‘Yeah.’ Drake nodded in agreement, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Gosalyn wouldn’t be interested. ‘I think she’ll like that,’ he added, genuinely hoping that she would.
‘Yeah, me too.’ Launchpad’s face fell a little. ‘So, how is she?’
‘I dunno, LP,’ Drake answered, putting the burgers away in the fridge. ‘She’s gone up to her room, but she’s … she’s quiet.’
‘Want me to go and talk to her?’
At first, Drake was about to agree, but as he thought about it, he shook his head.
‘I think she just wants to be left alone,’ he said truthfully, ignoring the little ache that gripped his chest as he spoke.
‘Aw, she’ll come round, DW.’ Launchpad slapped him on the back. ‘Don’t worry.’
Drake didn’t answer, but took his coffee into the living-room and sat down. A second later, Launchpad joined him, grabbing the television remote.
‘Just in time for Pelican’s Island!’
Both he and Drake looked towards the stairs, waiting. Usually, at any mention of that television programme, Gosalyn would be the first one onto the sofa to watch it. Even as the opening credits played, loud enough for the Muddlefoots to hear next door, Gosalyn didn’t appear.
Not interest in the television himself, Drake picked up a newspaper and began to study the puzzle-pages. He solved the daily anagram, then spotted all of the differences between two, seemingly identical cartoon drawings and finally started working on the weekly giant crossword.
He finished the puzzles as Pelican’s Island’s closing theme began to play. Launchpad was sitting upright, anxiously chewing his fingernails.
‘You can calm down, now, it’s finished,’ Drake muttered, slinging the newspaper onto the table.
‘Yeah, but what’s going to happen to Spencer?’ Launchpad asked.
‘I thought these were reruns,’ Drake answered. ‘Haven’t you already seen them all?’
‘Oh yeah, about four times, but you can never be too sure.’
Drake raised an eyebrow before chuckling to himself.
‘I’m going to start getting some dinner ready,’ he said.
Launchpad joined him in the kitchen and busied himself with slicing peppers and onions, while Drake peeled some potatoes for fries.
Half an hour later, still wearing his apron, Drake climbed halfway up the stairs.
‘Gosalyn, honey?’ He paused, giving her a chance to respond. ‘Dinner’s nearly ready.’
There was no answer, but he decided to give her a few more minutes before trying again. To his surprise, Gosalyn appeared of her own accord just as they were putting plates full of food on the table.
Gosalyn eyed the burgers with some surprise and actually smiled appreciatively before sitting down.
‘I got a present for you,’ said Launchpad suddenly.
He picked up the other carrier-bag that had been left on the kitchen worktop, unopened, all afternoon. Rather suspiciously, Gosalyn took it from him. Drake sat down, watching with interest as she reached into the bag and drew out …
It was a soft toy – a hamster with fuzzy grey hair that stood up all over the place and large front teeth.
Drake almost laughed, but stopped himself, not sure how Gosalyn was going to react. Launchpad took his own seat, beaming at Gosalyn, who simply stared at the soft toy in her hands. It was about eight times the size of Chomp – big enough for her to actually hug in her arms if she wanted to.
‘I saw it and just thought …’ Launchpad’s smile flickered a little, as though he might be rethinking his gift. ‘Well, I thought you’d … like him …’
Gosalyn ran her fingers through the hamster’s fur. Her beak twitched, but she looked up at Launchpad.
‘Thanks …’
Her voice was small, almost broken, but she nodded vigorously and sat the hamster on the spare chair next to her. She picked up her fork and began to concentrate intently on her food.
Drake watched her, half-bracing himself, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting.
‘So, DW,’ said Launchpad, his mouth already full of salad. ‘I thought we’d go into the Tower tomorrow – try out that new radio SHUSH sent yesterday.’
‘What?’ Drake shook himself and blinked at Launchpad. ‘Oh, yeah – I forgot about that.’
‘I think it’ll be great in the Thunderquack,’ Launchpad went on. ‘We’ll be able to pick up messages from police-stations, TV-studios – everything. We might even hear the villains planning their next crime-spree.’
‘That would be nice,’ Drake answered. ‘Just imagine – Darkwing Duck! Daring do-gooder performs premature prevention of –’
‘Dad …’
Although Gosalyn’s voice was still quiet, it was enough to stop Drake in the middle of his speech.
Gosalyn was staring at her plate and she very slowly put her fork down.
‘I need to …’ Gosalyn clamped her beak shut, holding it with her hand to stop it trembling.
‘Oh …’ Drake pushed his chair back, but stopped as Gosalyn seemed to panic. Her face reddened.
She caught Drake’s eye and promptly burst into the deluge of tears she had been trying so hard to hold back all day. She sobbed, keeping her face covered with her hands, struggling to breathe.
‘Oh, sweetie.’ Drake was instantly at her side and he lifted her into his arms. ‘It’s okay.’
He sat down, placing her on his lap, holding her close.
‘I’m … I’m sorry, Dad …’
‘Oh - no, honey, you cry.’ He placed a kiss on top of her head. ‘You have a good old cry.’
She huddled into him, her tiny frame shuddering with each sob and she clutched at his sweater.
‘He was … he was just a … a stupid old … hamster.’
Drake let out a small laugh, despite the tears creeping into his own eyes.
‘He was, but he was your stupid old hamster,’ he said. ‘You loved him and that is all that matters.’
As Gosalyn dissolved into another flood of tears and sobs, Launchpad threw his arms around both her and Drake.
They all remained like that for another minute or two until Gosalyn’s hysterical cries subdued to little hiccups, then, finally, nothing more than sniffles. She rubbed her face into Drake’s sweater before sitting up, looking half drained, half embarrassed.
‘Naww, kiddo.’ Launchpad wiped her face with a tissue and made her blow her nose.
‘Thanks.’ She dried a few fresh tears away and finally smiled.
‘There you go.’ Drake brushed her hair back and tapped her beak. ‘Is that better?’
‘Yeah …’ She let out a small noise that was somewhere between a laugh and another sob. ‘But can we have dinner, now? I’m starving.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Drake stood up, placing Gosalyn back on the chair. ‘You haven’t eaten all day.’
Muttering something about needing to get more water, he walked over to the sink with his glass. His heart was racing and he had to take a few seconds to compose himself before joining his family at the table again.
When he did, Gosalyn’s eyes were still red and lined with tears, but she was happily tucking into her burger while holding a heated discussion with Launchpad about what movie they were going to watch later.
Once dinner was over, they retreated into the living room with the tubs of ice-cream and huddled together on the sofa. Gosalyn sat in between Drake and Launchpad, the new toy in her arms and she gradually curled up, resting her head on Drake’s shoulder. Letting out a deep yawn, she finally closed her eyes, giving in to the day’s exhaustion.
Three Weeks Later
‘Gosalyn, have you seen …’
Drake froze, staring around the room in amazement.
There were no clothes strewn about the floor, all of the books had been picked up and the bed had been made. The smell of fresh polish lingered in the air and Gosalyn had apparently just been about to start vacuuming before he walked in.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Hi …’ Drake’s eyes travelled from one wall to the other, taking in the room once more. ‘What have you … who … what?’
He looked at Gosalyn who put the vacuum down and scurried towards him.
‘You tidied your room?’ he asked.
‘Yeah …’ She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled. ‘It looks good, doesn’t it?’
‘Well … I mean, yeah, but …’ Still staring around in wonder, Drake wandered further into the room and sat down on the bed. ‘You?’
‘Well, it’s what you made me do last time,’ Gosalyn explained. ‘So I thought I’d do it first, then I won’t have to do it after.’
Drake tilted his head on one side, raising an eyebrow.
‘After what?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘What are you up to?’
Gosalyn inched closer to him and, after casting a quick glance at the nearby chest-of-drawers, she took a deep breath.
‘Dad, I was just wondering …’ She suddenly took his hands and fixed him with a determined stare. A grin formed on her beak. ‘Dad … I’d like another hamster.’