Sarah Lean - The Sand Dog

Contents

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A DOG CALLED HOMELESS

THE FOREVER WHALE

HARRY AND HOPE

HERO

A HORSE FOR ANGEL

JACK PEPPER

THE SAND DOG

For younger readers

The Tiger Days series in reading order

THE SECRET CAT

THE MIDNIGHT FOXES

THE RIVERBANK OTTER

DUCKLING DAYS

S ARAH L EANS fascination with animals began when she was aged eight and a stray cat walked in the back door and decided to adopt her. As a child she wanted to be a writer and used to dictate stories to her mother, but it wasnt until she bought a laptop of her own several years ago that she decided to type them herself. She loves her garden, art, calligraphy and spending time outdoors. She lives in Dorset and shares the space around her desk with her dogs, Harry and Coco.

www.sarahlean.co.uk

Cally saw her mum, bright and real and alive. But no one believes her, so Callys stopped talking. Now a mysterious grey wolfhound has started following her everywhere. Perhaps he knows that Cally was telling the truth

Leo dreams about being a hero. In his imagination he is a fearsome gladiator, but he wants to be a hero in real life.

Then the boys at school dare Leo to do something he knows is wrong and he lets everybody down. How can he make things right again?

When a little dog called Jack Pepper goes missing it will take a true hero to find him and bring him home

Hannahs grandad loves telling stories from his past, but theres one that he cant remember one that Hannah knows is important.

When a whale appears off the coast, clues to Grandads secret begin to surface. Hannah is determined to solve the mystery, but as she gets closer to the truth she finds Grandads story is more extraordinary than she ever imagined.

When this story finally came to light, it became a fishing expedition to reel in something from under the surface, and Im surprised at what rose up from the deep. Thank you to my dad who took my sister and I to a Greek island many years ago, where we stayed in a house next to the beach and heard the sea from our bedroom windows. Thank you to my brother-in-law, Rupert, who talked to me about his encounters with turtles and, perhaps unwittingly, revealed the sense of a man who belongs on the sea. There were also some who contributed in conversation to the story and I hope I have told them all as it happened how it was appreciated.

As always, my thanks are to those whose words encourage and support the writer, the writing and the heart of this story, especially Rachel Denwood, Michelle Misra, Samantha Stewart, Lowri Ribbons and all at HarperCollins who have had a hand in putting it all together, Julia Churchill, and my family.

I NEVER THOUGHT G RANDFATHER would come back on an ordinary day like a Monday or a Tuesday. Hed come on the kind of day when the rising sun is pouring its colours on the sea because theres not enough room for all its glory in the sky. Grandfather was like that kind of special day to me too. He was a fisherman, and from watching the drift of deep-water seaweed he could land a net of fish full to bursting. He knew the journey of a past storm by what swept up on the beach, and could tell a thousand stories of extraordinary creatures from the deep. He said that the ocean had a long story to tell about all of us, full of signs of things that have happened and signs of things that are to come. I always knew hed come back across the sea, triumphing over a few monsters on the way, but I was still waiting after two years for that special day to arrive.

I live on a small island in the Mediterranean. My home used to be with Grandfather in a little fishermans cottage but now Im in a flat with Uncle above his restaurant at the back of the beach. My open bedroom window is like an ear to the sounds of the water, and it was one Friday night that I heard the rhythm of the tide change.

In my underpants, I went downstairs and walked across the beach to look out over the waves. The sea was black as simmering tar, and the moon reflected like broken glass on the restless waves. At the far end of the beach on the shallow rocks that divided the beach from the cove further along, a turtle was struggling hard to climb out of the water. Her shell was patterned like the crazy paving of our narrow streets, and I wondered what it felt like to carry her home on her back.

The turtle was clumsy on the rocks without the support of the water, and tumbled on her back to the sandy cove. I ran over. Turtles arent good on land anyway, but her front flipper was caught in some fishing line round her neck like a sling, making it hard for her to move at all. I recognised the chip in her shell from when shed been to our island two years ago. I wondered if she remembered me, because she didnt seem afraid when I rolled her over. She was heavy, and as big as a shield, but I was strong and cut her free from the line. She lumbered off, digging grooves in the sand with her flippers, leaving a rippled pattern beside my footprints. Slowly she made her way to the back of the cove where she dug a cool hole, laid her eggs and buried them deep in the dark, just as she had before. I stayed with her until she was ready to go back to the sea, as the sun rose pink and gold behind a thin bank of cloud at dawn.

Grandfather had taught me that the sea could tell me a story. I needed three signs to let me know that he was coming home. The turtle had been the same one Id seen the day before he left. Could that be the first sign?

I swam and dived with the turtle in the growing day, in the place where she was at ease, where I felt at home too, until I heard Uncle shouting from the rocks, Azi! Get out of the sea! Its almost eight oclock!

I surfed in with a wave and followed Uncle up to the restaurant where he was already laying tables ready for the early tourists.

Hurry up, or youll be late, he said. And dont forget your jobs after school! he yelled, as I leaped up the stairs to the flat, two at a time, to get dressed.

I pulled on a T-shirt and flip-flops and I ran, feet flapping, all the way to school, my wet underpants seeping through my shorts. It was already hot and I hoped theyd dry out before I got there. Id got used to people calling me names like sea boy and water boy, saying the sea had weed on me, but I didnt care today. It was the last day of term, a special and good day to feel that Grandfather was coming home at last. Three whole months of holiday lay ahead of us enough time for Grandfather to see the turtle eggs hatch with me.