Jehan and the Quest of the Lost Dog Read online

  Rosanne Hawke is the South Australian author of over twenty-five books. She lived in Pakistan and the United Arab Emirates as an aid worker for ten years. Her books include Kelsey and the Quest of the Porcelain Doll, a CBCA Notable Book, and Taj and the Great Camel Trek, winner of the 2012 Adelaide Festival Awards for Children’s Literature and shortlisted for the 2012 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards. She is the 2015 recipient of the Nance Donkin Award; an Asialink, Carclew, Varuna and May Gibbs Fellow; and a Bard of Cornwall. She teaches creative writing at Tabor Adelaide and writes in an old Cornish farmhouse with underground rooms near Kapunda.

  www.rosannehawke.com

  Also by Rosanne Hawke

  The Tales of Jahani (Daughter of Nomads, The Leopard Princess)

  The Truth about Peacock Blue

  Kerenza: A New Australian

  Kelsey and the Quest of the Porcelain Doll

  Shahana: Through My Eyes

  Killer Ute

  The Keeper

  Sailmaker

  Mountain Wolf

  The Messenger Bird

  Taj and the Great Camel Trek

  Marrying Ameera

  The Wish Giver, with L Penner and

  M Mackintosh (illus.)

  The Last Virgin in Year 10

  Mustara, with R Ingpen (illus.)

  The Collector

  Soraya the Storyteller

  Yar Dil, with E Stanley (illus.)

  Across the Creek

  Borderland Trilogy (Re-entry, Jihad, Cameleer)

  Wolfchild

  Zenna Dare

  A Kiss in Every Wave

  For my grandson Isaac Hawke,

  and thanks to Phil C for the first idea.

  Jehan and Amir waved goodbye to their father and trudged down the dusty lane to school. They passed courtyards where women were grinding spices ready for the day’s cooking. Jehan breathed in the smell of coriander, cumin and garlic. A few girls guided their goats down the path out to the fields while older boys raced ahead of them, laughing. No birds sang this morning.

  Amir swatted a fly. ‘It’s so hot that the walls of our house are cracking.’

  Jehan hoped Amir would be all right at school. On very hot days their mother often kept him home to cool off and play in a big bowl of water, but she was too busy sewing a razai, a quilt, today. Jehan sighed. After school he would have to get more water from the canal to top up their barrel.

  A fly landed in the corner of Jehan’s eye. Even though it was early, sweat ran down his back. Grey clouds curled way above the mountains and the river. ‘Abu said the monsoon rains won’t come with clouds so high in the sky.’

  ‘Ummie said the monsoon won’t come for two weeks,’ Amir replied. ‘I wish it would hurry up. I like rain – it’s cooler.’

  ‘Ji.’ Jehan agreed – this heat felt as if the sky was made of glass.

  When they reached school Jehan took Amir to the youngest class before walking to his Year 4 room. His teacher, Mr Nadeem, had plenty to say about the monsoon in the first lesson. ‘There has been a weather warning,’ Mr Nadeem said. ‘Tell your parents there could be flooding.’

  Jehan shot his hand up. ‘Why, sir?’

  ‘It’s hotter than usual,’ Mr Nadeem replied. ‘Snow is melting early in the Karakoram Mountains, filling the rivers. Our Indus River may not be able to hold all the water once the rains come.’

  Jehan caught his friend Badil’s eye. Would that be scary or exciting? He imagined they could play in the water as if it were a lake and make a raft out of oil cans and wood.

  That afternoon, Jehan and Badil set up an old petrol drum at the end of their lane to play cricket. Badil brought a flat piece of wood to use as a bat, and Jehan brought his treasured tennis ball.

  Badil rolled the ball in his hand. ‘You’re good at finding useful things,’ he said. ‘This is much better than scrunched-up newspaper.’ He ran down the dusty pitch and bowled to Jehan.

  Bang. Jehan watched the ball curve up and drop onto the straw roof of his house.

  ‘Four!’ Badil cried.

  ‘Nay, that was a six!’

  Amir ran out of their house. ‘Can I play?’

  ‘If you fetch the ball from the roof,’ Jehan said.

  Amir was small but he jumped up the wooden steps until he reached the top. He held the ball high.

  ‘Throw it,’ Badil called.

  ‘Nay, I’ll bring it down. Then I’ll have next bat.’

  Jehan grinned. Even though Amir was five years younger, he was sharp.

  Just then, their mother poked her head over the courtyard wall. ‘Jehan! Why are you playing when the goats are still in the field? Go and get them, and take Amir with you.’

  Jehan groaned but said, ‘Ji, yes, Ummie. Want to come?’ he asked Badil.

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Fetch another bucket of water, too,’ Jehan’s mother added.

  Jehan was sick of chores. Looking after goats was better than fetching water, but cricket was the most fun of all. One day he might be a famous cricketer and play in the Pakistani team, against Australia. Then he’d have a real bat, knee pads and helmet.

  ‘I wish it would rain,’ Badil said as they reached the canal. ‘Then you wouldn’t have to carry water and we could keep playing cricket.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Jehan said. ‘Your big sister gets your water.’ Jehan thought of Badil’s sister with a full pot balanced on top of her head. He wished he had a sister.

  An old buffalo wearing a blindfold plodded mechanically around the well, turning the wooden water wheel. Amir screwed up his nose at the smell of dung.

  Jehan called to the buffalo, ‘Salaam, Kali.’ Fresh water splashed into the brown canal and Jehan scooped some out with his bucket. Just as he was bending over, Badil gave him a push. Jehan toppled headlong into the canal. The water wasn’t deep and Badil jumped in too. Laughing, they poured water over each other, then tried to paddle like dogs. Jehan noticed Amir watching them. ‘Hop in,’ he called. ‘The water is cool.’

  ‘Nay, I won’t,’ Amir said. ‘I’ll tell Ummie you’re wasting time.’

  Finally the boys climbed out and Jehan filled the bucket again.

  ‘I want to carry the water,’ Amir said.

  It meant they had to walk slower, and Jehan soon grew annoyed. ‘Give the bucket to me, Amir, or we’ll never get the goats into the courtyard before dinner.’

  ‘You’re mean.’ Amir ran off toward the field.

  ‘Little brothers are so frustrating,’ Jehan said.

  Badil grinned. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m the little brother in my house.’

  ‘Ao, come,’ Jehan said. ‘The sooner we get the goats in, the sooner we’ll play more cricket.’

  But the goats didn’t want to go home. They’d found a juicy patch of grass and were happily munching. Amir sat further away with a white-faced baby goat on his lap.

  ‘You have to help, Amir.’ Jehan pointed toward the river. ‘You stand over there so they don’t run that way. I’ll herd them up from behind.’

  ‘Nay.’

  Jehan felt like shaking his brother.

  ‘I’ll carry the bucket.’ Badil held out his hand.

  Just then a cool wind blew up. Huge low clouds rolled in over the distant mountains.

  Badil gave a whoop. ‘The sky is getting darker. Looks like it will rain. I can smell it!’

  ‘Ji.’ Jehan stared at the clouds racing closer. ‘Amir, take the little goat home. Quick.’

  Amir looke
d at the sky and then, for the first time ever, did what Jehan told him.

  The goats were extra skittish, but Jehan and Badil managed to drive them to the courtyard. As the rain began to fall, the boys dumped the water in the barrel and then Badil raced to his house next door, slamming the wooden gate behind him.

  ‘You took your time, Jehan,’ his mother said when they walked inside.

  He glared at Amir. Then he felt a pang and ruffled his little brother’s hair. He was only four after all. ‘The monsoon might be starting, Ummie ji,’ Jehan said.

  ‘But it’s too early.’ She looked out the window. The clouds were filling the whole sky. She frowned.

  ‘Mr Nadeem said the river might flood this year,’ Jehan said.

  His mother looked at him sharply. ‘Bring everything in.’

  Fat drops of rain fell on their heads as they worked. Even Amir carried pots, mats and stools inside while Jehan brought in the charpai that he and Amir slept on. Before they had finished the rain poured down and the boys splashed each other, enjoying the cool relief.

  Later that night after spicy potato curry and chapattis, they sat together in their one room and Amir asked for a story. ‘The one about the giant boat and the animals,’ he begged.

  Their mother glanced at their father sitting on his charpai. ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘but up on your charpai first, both of you.’

  When they were settled on top of their razai, their quilt, she told the story of Nooh and the huge boat he built for everyone before it rained. But no one wanted to join his family. They didn’t know what rain was. Only the animals came.

  ‘We know what rain is,’ Amir said.

  ‘Ji.’ Their mother kissed them goodnight. ‘You are my beautiful boys.’ She laid her hand on their heads in blessing. ‘Remember that even in difficult times Khuda is always with us.’

  Jehan liked the muted sound of rain on their straw roof. It felt safe.

  Amir cuddled into Jehan. ‘I wish we had a dog,’ he whispered. ‘It could help with the goats. I’m a bit scared of the big ones.’

  ‘I didn’t realise.’ Jehan hugged him. ‘You’re right about a dog. Maybe a black Labrador.’

  ‘Nay, a reddish-brown one with nice fur to brush and a happy face. Like Uncle ji’s.’

  ‘A golden retriever,’ Jehan whispered. ‘We could ask Uncle ji for a pup.’

  Amir yawned. ‘Tell me a story about a dog.’

  ‘Teik hai, okay. What about the jackal that tricks a tiger and saves a life? The jackal is just like a dog.’

  Amir didn’t answer and Jehan felt a rhythmic breath against his cheek. Ever since Amir learned to crawl he’d slept with Jehan. It was like having a living teddy bear. Nothing seemed as scary with Amir beside him.

  Jehan was drifting into sleep when he heard his father murmuring. ‘The rain sounds different this time. It’s too early and heavy, the wind too strong.’

  His mother said, ‘I hope the river doesn’t rise higher than its banks.’

  Jehan hoped so too. His village was barely a kilometre from the river and all of their houses were made of mud.

  Lali licked her pups dry, sheltering them from the drops of water blowing into the courtyard. She had a male and a female. They were paler than her own red fur, had long noses, blue eyes that had just opened, and their breath smelled sweet like her milk. They squeaked as they searched her middle to drink.

  Beti appeared in the courtyard and made happy noises about the pups. The two-legger girl put a blanket in Lali’s basket and gave her a chapatti.

  More water swept in and Lali whined.

  Beti looked at her dog with sadness in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry you and the pups can’t come inside with me.’ Beti glanced at the door to her house, but Lali knew she wasn’t allowed inside. At least the blanket would help keep the pups dry.

  Beti patted Lali’s head and she licked Beti’s hand. Beti was a kind two-legger. She fed Lali every evening and played ball with her. Whenever Lali jumped high to catch it, Beti clapped. She knew Beti was pleased when she caught a tough-tail for Beti gave her an extra piece of chapatti dipped in ghee. Lali always took it up the steps to the smooth flat roof of Beti’s house to eat.

  Before having her pups, Lali would sniff around Beti’s house each afternoon. And when Beti returned home from school, Lali licked her face. She knew what Beti had eaten, who she’d hugged, and where she’d walked, all from her smell.

  ‘I’ve made you a gift for having the pups.’ Beti took off Lali’s ripped collar and fastened on a new one. It smelled of jasmine oil, just like Beti.

  Lali lay back for her pups to drink and Beti kissed Lali’s nose. Lali lifted her head and grinned. She knew she had been clever to have pups. Beti patted the top of Lali’s head and walked back to the house.

  Lali watched Beti’s long dark hair swish down her back as she walked away. Even though Beti only had two legs and a short nose that couldn’t smell, Beti was Lali’s family along with her pups.

  Suddenly Lali sniffed the air. More water blew in. Something big and threatening was coming. She could smell it, hear it. She stood, ready to protect her pups. She growled a warning.

  Jehan snapped awake. He had been dreaming of a dog – one who loved him and helped him bring home the goats. But it wasn’t his dream that woke him. It was a loud bang. Something had fallen over outside. Rain pummelled the straw roof, and water dripped into the buckets and bowls on the table. Ping. Ping. Ping. It had rained all yesterday afternoon and all night. To Jehan it sounded like the rain would last for weeks.

  It was early morning and Amir was still asleep. Jehan carefully put out his leg and instantly drew it back. The whole floor was covered in water! And it reached halfway up the legs of their charpai. ‘Hei!’

  Amir woke up. ‘I’m wet,’ he cried.

  ‘Chup,’ Jehan said to quieten him. ‘It’s just pani.’ But Jehan had never seen so much water inside their house before.

  Amir sat up. ‘Where’re Abu and Ummie?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe they’re bringing the goats inside.’

  Then he saw their parents through the window. They were putting bags of dirt, drums and anything they could find against the house wall to stop the water coming in.

  Suddenly there was a rushing sound.

  ‘What’s that?’ Amir’s eyes were huge.

  Jehan didn’t know, but it sounded like a thousand horses were thundering down their lane.

  They froze as the water swirled up to their pillows. Then their charpai floated!

  ‘Aaeei!’ Amir screamed. He tried to jump off.

  ‘Don’t.’ Jehan grabbed his brother’s hand. ‘This is the safest place.’

  Jehan saw his parents struggling to hold on to the wall, but it melted like sugar in hot chai. The water was so strong it was like a mountain slamming into their house. Their charpai floated out into the courtyard past the goats swimming and bleating.

  ‘Abu! Ummie!’ Amir cried.

  His father waded toward them, the water up to his chest, and plunged for the charpai as it swept past. But he missed. Then his mother jumped after them, but she came up coughing. Jehan could no longer see her; the rain was as thick as sheets. ‘Hold on!’ their father shouted. ‘Help will come.’

  ‘Ummie. Abu!’ Amir screamed again as the charpai catapulted toward their pomegranate tree.

  Amir grabbed hold of a branch as the charpai raced on.

  Their mother screamed, but Jehan couldn’t hear her words above the noise of the water.

  It was then that Jehan knew he had to keep Amir safe. He dug his toes between the strands of rope at the bottom of the charpai and lunged for his brother, grabbing his legs. The charpai groaned like an animal trying to break free as Amir wrapped his arms further around the branch.

  Jehan saw the water rising higher up the tree.

 
And Amir was slipping from his grasp as the charpai bumped back and forth. ‘Come to me!’ Jehan shouted.

  ‘Nay, I want Ummie. Abu!’ Amir shrieked. ‘Don’t let me go!’

  ‘I can’t help it! My hands are too wet!’

  A wave washed over them and their razai ripped in two. The floodwater roared and Jehan was swept away on the charpai.

  Water approached, snakelike, around Lali’s blanket. She growled and barked but it wouldn’t go away.

  Lali knew she must hide her pups to keep them dry. She held one softly in her mouth and bounded up the outside steps in the rain. Safe on the roof, Lali dropped the pup into a sheltered metal box.

  She ran down to the courtyard again as the water crept higher. It was now up to Lali’s flank. Her blanket was floating. She splashed to her other pup, grabbed him and carried him to the roof.

  Big-water followed her up the steps. She’d never seen water chase her before.

  She jumped onto the roof and into the box, nuzzled one pup, then the other. They smelled right, looked the perfect amount.

  Lali lay down for the pups to drink. They kneaded her middle and slurped. Then they slept.

  In the morning, Lali put her front paws on the edge of the box and stared out. Water still fell from the sky and now the big-water covered the world. Only treetops showed, and the chimney, taller than any tree, where two-leggers made bricks. The water lapped at the roof, trying to take her pups.

  She whimpered. Where was Beti?

  Raindrops landed on Jehan’s nose. He opened his eyes. Why didn’t Amir wake him as usual? His little brother loved jumping on him in the mornings.

  Jehan groaned and rolled onto his back. His head ached and he felt as if he had run through a field of knives. He touched his chest. His qameez was gone, his shalwar in tatters. Scratches bloodied his bare skin.

  When he glanced up his eyes widened. His charpai was caught in a tree! He moved again and the charpai creaked, slipping. Jehan gripped the sides.

  That was when he noticed the water. It was all around him as big and deep as the sea Mr Nadeem spoke about. It splashed at the trunk of the tree just below his charpai.