The Chocolate Dog by Holly Webb

Amy wriggled. Choc had his nose in her ear again. “Ow, Choccie, don’t.” She leaned away from him, giggling. “It’s cold.” They’d been in the car for ages, four hours at least, and the heat was making Choc’s chilly nose feel icy. He’d been licking the bare part of her shoulder or sticking his nose in her ear every few minutes since they’d left the house.
    Choc hated being stuck in his dog crate in the boot of the car. He saw no reason why he couldn’t sit next to Amy and Lara in the back seat. He knew that was where he was meant to be – right in the middle of the two girls, so they could both make a big fuss of him. He stared through the wire of the crate with mournful chocolate-brown eyes, and slobbered down the back of Amy’s vest top.
    â€œUurgh, Choc…” Amy squashed sideways so he couldn’t dribble on her neck any more, and peered through the wire at him. “I know you’re bored, but please stop licking me…”
    Choc’s eyes were round and soulful like Maltesers now, and Amy smiled. She could never resist that look. She pushed two fingers through the wire of the crate and scratched him behind the ears. He sighed with delight, leaning his head up against the side, eyes closed, shivering happily. Behind the ears was the best place. A really good behind-the-ears scratch could have him on the floor with all four paws in the air. He slumped gradually down to the floor with a long sigh.
    Amy eased her hand back from the crate. Choc had fallen asleep, she thought, blinking as the air in the car slanted suddenly green. The trees were arching over the road, pushing against each other so close that the car was driving through a green tunnel, a tunnel with strange dappled patterns of sunlight here and there. Amy wondered if anyone else had noticed. Dad was only looking straight ahead. That was probably a good thing, if you were driving, Amy thought sleepily. It was the middle of the afternoon, and it felt like they’d been driving all day. Her little sister, Lara, looked like she was about to melt into her pink car seat, and their mum was fanning herself with a paper fan Amy had made her at school.
    Amy leaned her head against the car window and sighed. She was hot, and half-asleep like Choc, and the car seat was sticking to her legs. She took a breath, about to ask Mum if they were nearly there, and then caught Dad’s eye in the mirror, and didn’t. Everyone was grumpy, and Mum had been grumpy all week. The baby wasn’t due for another month, but Amy was already feeling fed up with it, and the way it was making Mum so tired and cross.
    Lara did it instead. “Mum, are we there yet?”
    â€œNo.” Mum’s voice was tight and tired. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as though she was just as sticky as Amy. And about four times the size. She was enormous.
    â€œIf we were there we’d be able to see the sea, Lara, wouldn’t we?” Mum sighed.
    â€œNot if there was something in the way,” Lara muttered. “Like a wall. Or trees. Houses.”
    â€œLara, don’t,” Dad said firmly. “Ten more minutes.”
    â€œThat’s what you said last time,” Amy couldn’t help putting in. Dad seemed to think they wouldn’t notice. He’d been saying ten more minutes for ages. “Oh! Did you see? That was a sign for Sandmouth! Five, it said, five miles.”
    â€œThere you are, then. Ten minutes,” Dad agreed smugly. “Like I said.”
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    â€œIt’s pink!” Amy stared at the cottage as they pulled up outside.
    Her mother nodded, a little doubtfully. “When they said it was called Shrimp Cottage, I didn’t realize it would be painted shrimp pink. It’s a bit bright…”
    Amy smiled. “I like it.” The cottage was the same colour as pink candy shrimps, the ones on the penny sweets shelf at the sweetshop they went to