A Donkey Called Mistletoe Page 4
“Sarah said Harrison was happy all day after he met Mistletoe,” said Mom when she got off the phone. “They asked him why he likes Mistletoe so much, and he said it’s because he’s kind and his coat is soft. Sarah said he had the best night’s sleep he’s had in months.”
“Well, it’s nice that some people appreciate Mistletoe,” said Jasmine, pouring syrup over her pancake, “instead of banning him from the farm and sending him to an orphanage.”
“A sanctuary,” said Dad. “And we’re not sending him. He’s not ours to send.”
“Sarah asked if Harrison could come again next weekend,” said Mom. “I had to tell her that Mistletoe wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s a shame,” said Jasmine, glancing at her mom. Was it her imagination, or did Mom sound a bit regretful?
“Harrison and Mistletoe were forming a real bond,” said Jasmine. “It would have been nice for Harrison to see him more. And Dotty was getting so much better, and Truffle was starting to bond with him, too. They’ll be really depressed again now.”
“All right, Jasmine, that’s enough,” said Mom.
“And poor Mr. Hobson,” Jasmine continued. “It will probably break his heart. If Mistletoe lived here, we could bring Mr. Hobson to visit. But now they’ll never see each other again, all because of you and your meanness.”
“Jasmine, you’ve got a pig and a deer in the orchard already,” said Mom. “Now you want a donkey. What next? Am I going to look out of the window one morning and see a giraffe grazing in the garden?”
“That would be so cool. Where can I get a giraffe?”
Mom ignored this. “Donkeys have very long lives, you know. They can live until they’re fifty.”
“What are you saying? That I should only have pets with short life spans in case I get bored with them?”
“No, of course not. You’re wonderful at looking after your animals. However awful the weather is, however tired you are, you never neglect them.”
“So what’s the problem, then? Because you can’t say it’s because of Manu anymore.”
Mom and Dad had had a talk with Manu about Mistletoe. What with the fright he had suffered when Mistletoe had bolted and the nastiness of his allergic reaction, he was adamant that he wanted nothing more to do with the donkey. And for once, they all believed him.
“Well, for one thing, we don’t have infinite space or money,” said Dad.
“We’ve got plenty of space for a donkey. And Mistletoe can be my Christmas present. Which is great for you, because he’s free. You’d actually be making money. His equipment must be worth a lot. He only needs food, and we have that already.”
“And a stable.”
“A three-sided shelter is fine. It doesn’t have to be fancy.”
“It’s still expensive. It needs flooring and electricity, for a start.”
“And then there’s the farrier’s visits,” said Mom. “And he’ll need regular dental treatment, especially given his age.”
The doorbell rang. “That’ll be Tom,” said Jasmine, standing up. “We’re taking Dotty and Sky to see Mistletoe. We need to make the most of it since you’re sending him away on Monday.”
The next day was Jasmine’s final day with Mistletoe. Mom and Dad were going to help Mr. Hobson clear out his farm buildings, so they gave her a lift to Honey Farm. Dotty and Sky rode in the back of the truck. Manu came along to help, though Jasmine had serious doubts about how much use he would be. Tom had to go visit his cousins, so he had said a sad goodbye to Mistletoe yesterday.
Mr. Hobson was in the donkey’s field when they arrived. Manu’s eyes lit up at the sight of the mobility scooter.
“That is so cool,” he said as Mr. Hobson drove toward them, Mistletoe walking beside him. “I want one.”
“You can have one,” said Dad. “Once you need it.”
Mr. Hobson greeted them all warmly. “You must be so proud of Jasmine,” he said. “She’s a natural with Mistletoe. He’s really enjoyed having her and Tom around. And he loves young Dotty, too. He’s like a foal again when he’s with her.”
Mistletoe bent to sniff Dotty’s nose. Then Dotty set off at a run, and Mistletoe trotted after her. Sky ran along the hedgerow, sniffing for rabbits.
Jasmine headed to the barn to muck it out. When she finished, she was surprised to see Mom and Dad still talking with Mr. Hobson. Manu had clearly gotten bored and was poking around in the hedge with a stick. Mistletoe had returned to Mr. Hobson’s side, and Dotty was grazing beside him.
Jasmine fetched the halter and lead rope. “Should I tie him to the holding ring in the barn while I groom him?” she asked.
“No, I’ll hold the rope,” said Mr. Hobson. “I want to spend as much time as I can with him today.”
He reached up to scratch Mistletoe behind the ears. The donkey leaned his head toward him. For a few moments, the old man and the donkey stayed completely still, their eyes closed and their heads touching.
Jasmine felt tears prickle her eyes. She couldn’t bear to think of Mistletoe being loaded up into a trailer and driven away.
She glanced at her parents. They looked sad, too. They should be, she thought.
Eventually her dad broke the silence. “Is it just the granary that needs clearing out, Ted? Or is there anything else you want to get rid of?”
“Probably best if I come and show you,” said Mr. Hobson. “Will you be all right for a minute, Jasmine? I’ll be back shortly.”
“Sure,” said Jasmine. “I’ll poop-pick the field.”
“Are you coming with us, Manu?” asked Dad.
But Manu had found a gap big enough to crawl into and was busy exploring the hollow section in the middle of the hedge.
Mr. Hobson hadn’t returned when Jasmine finished, so she put Mistletoe’s halter on him and tied the rope to the ring outside the barn. By the time she had groomed the donkey, Mr. Hobson still hadn’t returned, so she untied Mistletoe and played with Sky while Mistletoe and Dotty grazed together.
It was lunchtime, and she was beginning to feel very hungry, when she heard Mr. Hobson’s scooter approaching the gate. Her parents walked beside him.
“Are you finished?” she asked as they came toward her.
“We’ve barely started,” said Dad. “We got a bit caught up talking.”
Mr. Hobson smiled at Jasmine. He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket.
“Here you are,” he said, handing her a tattered brown envelope.
“What is it?”
“Open it and see,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
Jasmine pulled out a small blue booklet. Stamped on the cover in silver lettering were the words:
DONKEY BREED SOCIETY
EQUINE PASSPORT
“You’ll need to get it updated within thirty days,” said Mr. Hobson, “with the new owner’s details.”
Jasmine stared at him. Then she stared at her parents. They were smiling. Did this really mean what she hoped it meant?
“That means your details, Jasmine,” said Mom.
“My . . . ? You mean . . . ?”
“Yes. I know we’ve been resisting, but we completely trust you to put in the work. And you clearly have a talent for working with donkeys.”
Jasmine felt dazed. “I can keep Mistletoe?”
“You can keep Mistletoe,” said Dad. “Mr. Hobson’s already phoned the sanctuary to let them know. You’re his owner now.”
A wave of joy surged over Jasmine. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much.”
“Thank Mr. Hobson, not us. He persuaded us to let you have him, and he’s insisted on paying for the shelter.”
Jasmine turned to Mr. Hobson. “Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” she began, but he held up his hand to stop her.
“I insisted. It was breaking my heart to think of being parted from Mistletoe forever. It’s lovely to know he’l
l be staying in town. And he couldn’t be in better hands.”
“He’ll still be your donkey, too,” said Jasmine. “You can come and see him every week. He belongs to both of us now.”
Dad built a shelter in the orchard, and when Mr. Hobson moved to Holly Tree House, Mistletoe moved to Oak Tree Farm. Right from the start, Dotty slept in the new shelter with the donkey. And on the third morning after Mistletoe’s arrival, Jasmine was thrilled to see Truffle there, too, lying on her side in the straw, looking utterly content. That afternoon, Jasmine took away the dividing fence. There was no need for it anymore; the animals were perfectly happy together.
The following Saturday was the day of the nativity play at Holly Tree House. Manu was in a state of high excitement.
“Finally,” he said through a mouthful of cereal. “Finally we get to wear the donkey costume. We’re going to be the best donkey ever. And we’re swapping so I can be the front end.”
“How come?” asked Dad.
“Because I wanted to have the head on, and Ben said he wanted to be the back legs anyway, because donkeys kick with their back legs. I bet they kick with their front legs, too, though.”
Mom and Dad shot each other alarmed looks.
“You will be careful in the donkey costume, won’t you?” said Mom.
“Of course I will. I’m always careful.”
Jasmine was excited, too, but for a different reason. Mr. Hobson was coming to visit Mistletoe for the first time this morning. Mom was going to pick him up from Holly Tree House.
“It’s going to be a busy day for Mr. Hobson,” said Dad, “with a visit in the morning and a play in the afternoon.”
Jasmine and Tom had decorated the shelter with tinsel and strings of lights. They groomed Mistletoe until his coat shone.
“There,” Tom said, putting down the brush. “Mr. Hobson’s going to be so happy to see you again.”
The orchard gate creaked open and Jasmine turned to see her mom coming in.
“He’s looking beautiful, Jasmine,” she said.
“He is, isn’t he?” said Jasmine, stroking him fondly.
“I’m afraid I’ve come with bad news,” said Mom. “Mr. Hobson just called to say he’s got a cold and he can’t come today.”
“No!” cried Jasmine. “He has to come.”
Tom looked dismayed.
“I’m sorry,” said Mom. “I know it’s disappointing for you. He’s upset not to be visiting, too, but he thinks it will be too much today, what with the nativity play this afternoon as well. I’ll reschedule it for next Saturday. I’m sure he’ll be better by then.”
“He can’t come next Saturday. He’s going to stay at his daughter’s for Christmas, remember?”
“Oh, yes, you’re right. I’d forgotten. That’s a shame.”
“I promised they could see each other every week,” said Jasmine, “and now it won’t be until after Christmas.”
“I’m really sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about it. I’ll make another arrangement for the earliest date I can.”
Jasmine turned to Tom as her mother walked back to the house. “Poor Mr. Hobson. He’ll be so sad.”
Tom looked thoughtful. “I was reading about the Donkey Sanctuary in Devon. They take their donkeys to visit places like Holly Tree House. They say the donkeys and the older people really like it.”
Jasmine stared at him. “Yes! Of course! We can take Mistletoe to Holly Tree House. If Mr. Hobson can’t come here, we’ll bring the donkey to him.”
“Do you think they’d let us?”
“Well, you said the Donkey Sanctuary does.”
“Yes, but I don’t know if all assisted-living places let donkeys in.”
Jasmine laid her face against the donkey’s cheek. His coat was soft and warm.
“What if we didn’t ask? What if we just took him? We can go this afternoon, after the nativity play.”
Tom frowned. “But what if they won’t let us in?”
“There’ll be lots of people there. We should be able to sneak him in somehow. And if anyone from the home asks us what we’re doing, we’ll say he’s part of the play.”
“And if anyone from school asks us,” said Tom, “we’ll say it’s been arranged as a surprise for the residents. And that’s not a lie, because it has been arranged as a surprise. We don’t need to say it was us who arranged it.”
“Exactly,” said Jasmine. “It’s a foolproof plan.”
The two children and the donkey paused at the entrance to Holly Tree House. It was a big, grand house beside the town green, set back from the road behind wooden gates.
Tom let go of the lead rope and rubbed his gloved hands together. “It’s freezing. I hope Mistletoe’s not cold.”
Jasmine put down the bucket she was carrying, pulled off a glove, and felt the donkey’s back. “He feels warm. And his coat’s so thick, I’m sure he’s fine.”
Tom looked at his watch. “We’ve got lots of time. They won’t even have started the play yet. Let’s have a look around and find the best way to take Mistletoe in.”
They walked up the driveway to the front entrance. It had a wide porch with stone pillars. There was a keypad and a bell next to the door, which was firmly shut.
“They’ll never let us in this way,” said Tom. “Let’s find another door. Walk on, Mistletoe.”
“It’s lucky you’re not a noisy donkey,” Jasmine said as they made their way along the front of the house. “We’d never be able to keep it a surprise if you started braying.”
As they turned the corner, a woman in a uniform walked out of a side door, carrying a garbage bag. She closed the door behind her. Jasmine waited until she was out of sight and then tried the handle, hoping it wasn’t one of those doors that locked automatically when you shut it.
The door opened. She grinned triumphantly at Tom. She opened the door just wide enough to glimpse a long carpeted corridor with several doors opening off it. A buzz of excited children’s voices came from one of the rooms. There was a burst of loud laughter. That was definitely Manu and Ben.
A door at the far end of the corridor opened and Ms. Denby, the teaching assistant, appeared. Behind her jostled a gaggle of girls in white dresses and tinsel halos.
“Now remember,” said Ms. Denby, “we’re going to walk quietly and calmly into the dining room, and we’re all going to wait there until it’s time to go into the residents’ lounge to perform the play.”
So we need to find out how to get into the residents’ lounge, thought Jasmine. Mr. Hobson would be there to watch the play, and they could take Mistletoe to see him afterward.
Softly, she closed the door and told Tom what she had heard.
“Let’s go around to the back,” said Tom. “There might be a door into the lounge there. Walk on, Mistletoe.”
Mistletoe was enjoying grazing on the lawn, but he obediently raised his head and plodded alongside them.
A paved terrace ran along the back of the house, with benches placed at intervals facing out across the lawn. Two sets of glass patio doors led onto the terrace.
“I’ll take Mistletoe into those bushes while you look through the doors,” said Tom, pointing to a clump of tall shrubs on the lawn. “See if one of those rooms is the lounge.”
Jasmine walked over to the first set of glass doors. A climbing plant ran around the door frame. By positioning herself behind it, she could look in without being seen.
It was a large dining room, decorated for Christmas with paper chains looped from the ceiling and sprigs of holly tucked behind the pictures. The round tables were draped with pretty cloths and set for afternoon tea with plates and cups and saucers. Two old ladies sat at a table in the corner playing cards. Despite the cold outside, the little window above the patio doors was partly open.
Several people wearing uniforms appeared from a kitchen next to the dining room. They carried trays of party food, which they set on the tables. Jasmine’s mouth watered at the sight of plates of sandwic
hes, bowls of chips, and three-tier cake stands heaped with scones spread with jam and cream, cupcakes, brownies, and all sorts of delicious-looking fancy cookies. A woman placed jugs of juice on each table while a man set out plastic cups.
Jasmine remembered Manu saying the younger students were going to have afternoon tea with the residents after the play. Lucky them.
The catering staff finished setting up the tea and left. The door from the corridor opened and Ms. Denby appeared with the angels. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the food. They pointed and grinned, and one of them started jumping up and down with excitement. Ms. Denby gave her a stern look.
“Matilda, that is not the sort of behavior we want, is it? We’re going to walk through the room very carefully, and wait quietly by the door over there. Don’t knock the tables, and don’t touch anything.”
Matilda stopped jumping and pursed her lips tightly together in an exaggerated display of obedience.
The angels filed through the room, looking longingly at the party food as they passed the tables. The shepherds and Wise Men followed them. One Wise Man snatched a chip when the teacher’s back was turned. Ms. Denby started lining up the angels by a door on the other side of the room.
That door must lead to the lounge, thought Jasmine. That’s where we need to take Mistletoe. Hopefully the other set of patio doors opened straight into the lounge. She wondered if they opened from the outside.
She was about to go investigate when there was a commotion in the crowd of shepherds. Something seemed to be jostling them from behind, making them screech and giggle, but the dining room was now so full of costumed children that Jasmine couldn’t tell what was causing the disturbance.
Then she saw it, and her heart sank.
A small, misshapen pantomime donkey shoved its way through the shepherds and galloped clumsily around the room.
“Oh, no,” whispered Jasmine.
“Manu! Ben! Stop!” shouted Mrs. Cowan, bursting through the doors behind them. But the donkey careened around the room, kicking up its heels. Ms. Denby blocked its path, but it veered to the side, knocking a table and toppling a jug. Pink juice poured onto the Angel Gabriel’s white dress. She screamed and leaped backward, sending a chair crashing into the table. A cake stand toppled over, and scones and cookies skidded across the floor.