About the Book

  Meet Willa and Woof

  Join these best friends for a story full of adventure, imagination and loads of fun!

  It’s Grandparents’ Day at school, but not everyone’s excited. Can Willa and Woof make the event a big success?

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One: The Worst Best Day

  Chapter Two: Cutbacks

  Chapter Three: Where’s Woof?

  Chapter Four: The Best Idea Ever

  Chapter Five: Lunch Thief

  Chapter Six: Grandparents For Hire

  Chapter Seven: Matchmaking

  Chapter Eight: Worries and Success

  Chapter Nine: Frankly, Woof

  Chapter Ten: Lost

  Chapter Eleven: Found (Out)

  Chapter Twelve: Uh Oh

  Chapter Thirteen: The Best Best Day Ever

  Read more Willa and Woof

  Extract from Willa and Woof: Mimi is Missing

  About the Author

  Jacqueline Supports

  Books by Jacqueline Harvey

  Imprint

  Read More at Penguin Books Australia

  For Ian, who laughs at Willa and her antics as much as I do, and for Sonic.

  My name is Willa Jane Tait and today is the best worst day ever. Or maybe it’s the worst best day. I can’t decide.

  I’m sitting at the kitchen table with Woof at my feet. He’s my albino Irish wolfhound. His proper name is Wilfred, but when I was little my tongue got all twisty trying to say that, so Wilfred became Wilf and Wilf became Woof and it stuck. He’s my best four-legged friend.

  My best same-age friend is Tae. He lives across the road from my house at number eight Cricklewood Crescent and he’s in my class at school – that’s where the best worst/worst best day started.

  Our principal, Mr Newton, finally told everyone the big surprise he’s been teasing us with for ages. Next week we’re having Grandparents’ Day. I can’t believe Mum didn’t tell me. She’s the office lady at our school. (I guess one of the reasons she’s so good at her job is because she never blabs secrets.)

  Grandparents’ Day also explains why our music teacher, Mrs Olliffe, has been teaching us songs from the olden days all term. We’ve never had Grandparents’ Day before – at least not since I’ve been at Hibiscus Gardens Primary (and that’s nearly four years – I’m almost at the end of Year Three).

  Mr Newton said that as well as our performance there are going to be competitions too – with really cool prizes – but then he said that the details were still being worked out. I think that’s code for the grown-ups haven’t got around to organising things properly yet.

  When we got back to the classroom, my teacher, Miss Wallis, had an even bigger surprise. Her new dog, Lola, is joining our class. She’s a Maltese poodle (a Maltipoo for short) She has big brown eyes and curly brown fur, and she wears the cutest red coat. Lola will be like our own support-dog superstar for kids.

  Woof is a support-dog superstar too – at Sunset Views Retirement Village, which is at the end of the cul-de-sac where I live. Tae and I take Woof there once a week after school, and sometimes on the weekends, to cheer up all the old people. Everyone loves Woof.

  So, it really was turning out to be the best day ever – until Miss Wallis told us we were making special cards to give to our grandparents and a girl in my class called Trinity started crying because her Granny died. Then a boy called Adamu was crying too. His grandparents live in Kenya – I think that’s a lot further away than where we go to the beach for our holidays. Then the next minute, half the class was bawling.

  ‘My poppy’s in hospital,’ sobbed Levi.

  ‘My granny plays golf on Tuesdays,’ shouted Rachel.

  ‘My grandad’s in the big house,’ cried someone else. (I didn’t understand why that was a problem until Tae whispered that the big house is what grown-ups sometimes say when they mean prison. That was surprising.)

  Okay, so it wasn’t the best day, but it wasn’t that bad . . . until I got home and Mum reminded me that Grandma is leaving to go on a trip to England this Wednesday, and she won’t be back for a month. She’s on her own now because Poppy died a while ago. I miss him but I have lots of happy memories.

  My dad’s parents, Nana and Grandad, can’t come either because they’re driving the whole way around Australia with their caravan. Dad says they’ve just been to see the Big Potato. I’m not sure where that is but it sounds funny.

  I pick up another one of Dad’s homemade choc chip cookies from the plate on the bench. I have to get Woof ready for our visit to Sunset Views soon.

  Wait, that’s it. My best old-age friend Frank is a grandad. He’s not mine, but he has two grandchildren, Maisie and Angus. Frank lives in a villa at Sunset Views. He’s right next door – there’s even a gate that goes straight from our garden to his. It’s very handy, because I visit him almost every day.

  I’ll borrow Frank for Grandparents’ Day. He’ll love it.

  At Sunset Views, Tae and Woof and I have to wait for Mr Babbar before we’re allowed to start our rounds, so we’re sitting in the office while he talks to Mrs Wilson.

  She’s the big boss, and last week when we arrived to begin work she growled at us (she and her caterpillar eyebrows had only just got back from a long holiday). Mr Babbar had to explain that while she was away, he made Woof the support-dog superstar for the retirement village (I’m the professional animal handler and Tae is our assistant in charge of treats).

  For a second I thought Mrs Wilson was going to sack us on the spot, but then Mr Babbar said Woof makes everyone happy – even Mr Allen, who never smiles. Mrs Wilson grunted and sniffed and said we could stay . . . for now. She also said that she’d be watching us closely. I bet she won’t watch us as closely as I watch her caterpillar eyebrows. I call them Hilda and Bert and make up stories about them in my head sometimes.

  Mr Babbar also said that we’re very reliable. I think that’s stretching the truth a little bit, because Tae usually spends half the time catching bugs and wandering off. He’s easily distracted – probably because he’s super smart. Tae’s always thinking about one hundred and one different things at the same time – not like me. It’s best if I concentrate on what I’m doing.

  ‘What’s taking so long?’ Tae says. He stands up and wanders over to read a poster on the wall about the residents’ weekly outings.

  Tae is dressed in soccer gear (except he doesn’t have the proper boots on because he says you shouldn’t wear those inside). He’s not actually playing soccer today – he’s trying out being a player for Manchester United. Tae’s name means ‘person of greatness’ in Korean, and every week he tries out being a different person of greatness to decide which one he’ll be when he grows up. It’s a lot of pressure if you ask me. We do have soccer tryouts tomorrow at school though, so his outfit this week is very appropriate.

  The door to Mrs Wilson’s office is open. I lean around on my chair as far as I can. Mrs Wilson sounds cross (that’s normal) but Mr Babbar is laughing. It’s not a happy laugh – more like nervous. I know how he feels.

  Her voice is getting louder.

  ‘Well, Vachan, I can see that with you in charge while I was away, Sunset Views has gone to the dogs. You’d better work out a way to bring in some more money soon or there will be no more resident outings,’ Mrs Wilson barks.

  I frown, and Tae spins and looks at me. Woof raises his head from where he’s lying on the floor. I’m not sure what she means but it sounds bad.

  ‘The outings are Mrs Zaman’s favourite thing,’ Tae says. ‘She talks about them all the time. Last week they went to a Japanese garden and there were scones for morning tea.’

  I lean out a bit further. Uh oh – too far. I start to fall off the chair just as Mrs Wilson tells Mr Babbar that they may have to do away with afternoon teas as well.

  Woof growls and tilts his head to the side right at the same time I thud onto the floor. He loves his afternoon teas at Sunset Views.

  I can hear Mrs Wilson before I see her.

  ‘Willa Tait, what are you doing?’ she barks. Hilda and Bert crawl closer together.

  I scramble to my feet. ‘Nothing,’ I say, blinking as innocently as I can.

  ‘I don’t believe that for one second,’ Mrs Wilson snaps, and points her finger at me. ‘You’re up to something.’

  I shake my head and swallow hard.

  Woof stands up and walks over to Mr Babbar, who gives him a pat, but he quickly hides behind the man’s legs when Mrs Wilson glares at him.

  ‘Come along, children, we’d better get going,’ Mr Babbar says. ‘The residents are looking forward to seeing you.’

  ‘Not a word to anyone, Mr Babbar,’ Mrs Wilson growls as we walk towards the door. ‘But you’d be wise to start thinking about what I just said and how we’re going to fix it. You know what will happen if you don’t.’

  Mrs Wilson doesn’t need to worry. I’m already thinking so much my head is starting to hurt.

  When I get home, I go straight to my desk and open my koala diary. It’s where I write all my important things. It went missing when we were planning Frank’s birthday surprise, but a boy from school called Robbie found it. I still don’t know whether Robbie read any of my secrets, but I get hot and sweaty just thinking about it. There are a few pages I’d die if anyone saw.

  A while ago, I sort of had a crush on a boy in my class (not Tae) and I wrote him a poem in the diary. Robbie could use that against me – big time.

  The fur on the front cover isn’t as fluffy as it used to be and my koala pen has lost the lid but they’re still precious. Tae gave them to me for my birthday this year when I turned eight.

  I’ve been thinking all afternoon about what Mrs Wilson said. She can’t stop the outings and she definitely can’t take away afternoon tea. That’s like child abuse for old people. So I’ve written a list of ideas about how we could raise some money.

  Garage sale

  (Dad has plenty of stuff under the house and down at the junk pile in the backyard he needs to get rid of.)

  Bake sale

  (My dad is the best baker in the world, and my brother loves cooking and so does Mrs Best. She’s always baking treats for Frank and taking them over to his house in her Tupperware containers. I think she might have a crush on Frank, but he says that I’m being ridiculous – who would love a grumpy old man? I kind of see his point.)

  Skip-a-thon

  (I don’t think many of the residents would be able to do that except Mrs Scott. She’s 95 but she still goes to hip hop classes, which is very impressive.)

  I can’t help thinking there must be an easier way to make money – like winning the lottery.

  I still have to let Frank know that he’s coming to Grandparents’ Day with me too. He was out this afternoon at a doctor’s appointment. Frank has stiff joints. He’d be terrible in a skip-a-thon.

  I bite my lip and tap the pen against the page just as Mum shouts out from the kitchen.

  ‘Willa, have you fed Woof?’

  I look outside and realise it’s getting late. I’m surprised Woof hasn’t come to get me. He usually lets me know if he hasn’t had his dinner on time.

  After our visit to Sunset Views, Tae and I took Woof for a quick run at the dog park. Miss Wallis was there with Lola. The two of them had a sniff-off (Lola and Woof that is) then they ran away to play. When it was time to go, Woof really didn’t want to leave. I was sort of glad that his best friend, Link, is away on holidays at the moment. I think he might have been jealous that Woof and Lola were having so much fun.

  I walk out onto the back deck expecting Woof to be there, but he’s not. That’s strange. I peer down into the backyard and call his name.

  ‘Did Sam take Woof for another walk?’ I yell out to Mum, who’s standing at the kitchen sink peeling potatoes.

  She shakes her head. ‘Your brother isn’t back from cricket training.’

  I call Woof’s name again. He’s the most reliable dog in the world, so this is really weird.

  Maybe Michael Woods from next door has dognapped him for real this time? I once overheard Michael and his best friend Jacko (who is also Robbie’s big brother) saying that Woof would be worth a fortune because he’s really rare. I think they were planning to sell him. There’s no way I’m selling Woof to make money for Sunset Views. I just thought of that and then un-thought of it right away.

  I tell Mum that I’m going to look for Woof. She gives me a wave.

  I walk down the road calling his name.

  This is not like him at all. My tummy starts feeling squirly. What if Woof’s run away? Although I don’t understand why he would – he has the best life ever.

  Dad’s ute turns into the street. He stops and asks where I’m going. Dad frowns when I tell him Woof is missing. ‘Don’t worry, Willa, he won’t have gone far. It’s dinner time. Hop in and we’ll go for a drive.’

  I open the car door, right at the same time as Woof races around the corner.

  ‘Where have you been?’ I shout, but Woof doesn’t stop. By the time I catch up to him, Woof is on the back deck. How he got there is a mystery because the side gate was definitely closed.

  ‘Excuse me, Wilfred Connal Tait (that’s his in-trouble name), where did you go this afternoon?’ I demand.

  Woof just stares at me with his puppy-dog eyes, but there’s something different about him. And when I lean down to give him a pat I can smell perfume on his fur.

  Dad checks the yard and finds a big hole in the fence near the Woods’ place. He fills it in and puts some old boards along the bottom.

  ‘He won’t get out again, Willa,’ Dad says.

  I look at Woof. He grins. Something tells me we shouldn’t be so sure.

  ‘I’m busy next Tuesday, Willa,’ Frank says when I ask him to come to Grandparents’ Day. It’s Wednesday morning before school and we’re sitting at his kitchen table eating vegemite toast.

  ‘But I don’t have anyone to take,’ I tell him.

  ‘I’m not your grandparent, Willa – I don’t have to come,’ Frank replies.

  I frown at him. ‘True, but you could – that would be kind, you know. What are you doing that’s so important anyway?’

  ‘Getting my hair cut,’ he says, and takes a sip of his tea.

  I laugh out loud. ‘You’ve hardly got any, unless you’re finally going to trim those long ones in your ears.’

  Frank rolls his eyes and glances at the clock. ‘Isn’t it time for you to get going?’

  ‘I think you must have fallen out of bed last night,’ I say as I carry my teacup and plate to the sink, ‘because you’re in a really bad mood.’

  ‘And I think you need to get to school, little miss bossy boots,’ Frank says.

  ‘Fine,’ I say. Woof and I head to the door. ‘But you know I’ll be back.’

  Frank grunts.

  That didn’t go well at all. I don’t know why Frank is being such a grump. I mean, his own grandchildren, Maisie and Angus, live in England and I’m right here. I’m the perfect stand-in grandchild.

  I’m sure that Frank will change his mind but there’s not much point pushing him. It’s better if he thinks something’s a good idea on his own, otherwise he can be really stubborn – like just now.

  I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already and I still haven’t made a proper plan to raise money for Sunset Views. It’s been really busy. Yesterday we had an excursion to the museum, which Tae thought was amazing and I thought was . . . okay. I can’t get that excited about rocks. I did get to touch a dinosaur bone. Tae said it was a fake, but I think that’s only because he was upset he didn’t get picked to hold it. Miss Wallis wasn’t allowed to bring Lola. It’s against the museum rules so she had to stay home. I wish Woof would too.

  On Tuesday morning, Tae’s mum, Soo-Min, saw Woof stand up on his back legs and unlatch our side gate to let himself out. She said he was on a mission. He was on the back deck when we got home, so we probably wouldn’t have even known he’d escaped if Soo-Min hadn’t told us. Dad’s put a lock on the gate to stop him getting out again. It’s a real mystery where he’s going – and a worry too. I have a feeling that if he wants to run away, a lock won’t stop him. What if he gets hit by a car or someone steals him?

  After the museum excursion I had gymnastics, and then Aunty Jane came over for dinner to talk about her wedding. It’s not until December but there’s lots to do. I’m still hoping she’s going to let me wear sparkly overalls as my flower girl outfit but I’m not confident.

  I’m running out of time to think of a way to save the outings for Sunset Views.

  At choir practice, we’re right in the middle of a song about losing your hair and turning sixty-four when a boy called Jacob starts crying. Mrs Olliffe stops playing the piano and everyone (except a girl called Bridget, who is always the loudest but not always the most in tune) stops singing.

  ‘Thank you, Bridget,’ Mrs Olliffe says loudly, and finally the girl closes her mouth.

  ‘I hate Grandparents’ Day,’ Jacob shouts, and stamps his foot.

 

1 2 3 4