Queen Luna and the Gang of Four, Page 4

Charlie Darwin. My mother died four years ago when I was seven. My father was very cruel to me and used to hit me on the body for no reason. He was deliberately hurting me, but avoided causing any injuries that other people would see. Until one day he got completely drunk and hit me in the face and body so hard that I was badly bruised. My school teacher reported my bruises to the children’s department. They took me away and put me in a foster home. My foster mother did things to me when she was bathing me that she shouldn’t have done. When I told the social workers they didn’t believe me, and afterwards my foster father started being cruel to me because he thought I had lied about his wife.”

  “I ran away, but the police caught me and then I was moved to another foster home. They were nice people, but I was sometimes very naughty, and the doctor decided that I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and he put me on drugs, but effect of the drugs is horrible. I was in ten different foster homes in two years. I couldn’t settle in any of them and now I’ve run away. It is better to be cold and hungry than to live in the foster homes and to never know when I would be moved on to cruel foster parents, and always to be affected by the horrible drugs. I’m sick of doing what grownups want.”

  In the morning, Charlie made the bed and carefully went round unlocking a few more windows, but making it look as if they were still locked. Then he left before Michael got back.

  The next night Michael slept in his room as usual and Charlie didn’t come back.

  But several more times when Michael was not there Charlie came and shared my cat food and milk before sleeping on the bed with me, carefully hiding all traces of his presence in the house.

  The Burglars

  One night when Michael was away, Charlie came to stay for the night. We were lying on the bed and Charlie was reading, but his head was starting to droop as he was falling asleep. I was sleepy too, but my super Cat hearing detected a noise outside. I jumped up, and then Charlie was wide awake. He had heard the noise as well. He whispered:

  “Someone’s trying to break in through the side door by the pub.”

  It wasn’t Michael because he knows that door is securely bolted and has stuff wedged against it on the inside; we never use that door. Charlie must have worked it out as well. We were frightened; what could a little boy and a Cat do against a burglar? Then we heard the man outside say something to someone else. There were at least two of them!

  I hid in a cupboard but Charlie did a strange thing. He barked! With his high voice it only sounded like a very small Dog; not something two men would be afraid of although they paused before resuming their assault on the solid wooden door. Then Charlie called out in a loud voice:

  “Dad, someone’s trying to break in.”

  We heard the men outside running away. Charlie smiled at me.

  Falling through the Cracks in Society

  It was several weeks after that before Michael was away for the night and Charlie came and stayed the night again. This time he was really hungry, Cats can smell things like that, and I knew the boy was close to starvation. There was not much cat food in the bag so he could not have much. He went to the fridge, but Michael had used the last of the milk in the open one litre container, so Charlie couldn’t have any. He looked in the rubbish bin, but Michael had emptied it the day before and there was nothing in it.

  In the morning, Charlie was really desperate. Young Humans are like any kittens and need plenty of food. Then Charlie did something he had never done before. He took the last litre of milk out of the glass fronted fridge we sell the milk and drinks from. He drank it all except for a little bit he gave me in a saucer. Then he took the last carton of chocolate flavoured milk and was about to drink it.

  He had never been in the Bookpost so late in the morning, and was startled by the sound of someone opening the front door with a key. It was the Australia Post contractor, delivering the day’s mail for Michael to sort. Charlie escaped out of a window at the back, but he hadn’t properly cleaned and tidied the place.

  Michael noticed that some milk was missing and the glass fronted fridge was not arranged how he had left it. Cora’s sharp eyes detected several other strange things including a bed not properly made and looking as if someone had slept in it.

  They talked about calling the police, but decided that the police would not accept the evidence of an intruder as conclusive. They went round and carefully checked that all the windows were locked.

  I sadly thought about Charlie; he would not be able to get in again, and I would probably never see him again. In Australia there is no need for anyone to go hungry. Charlie knew that all he needed to do to get fed was to go into a police station and tell them he was hungry. The police would not let a child be hungry, but they would also call the department and Charlie would be put back into foster homes. He would rather starve to death than to surrender himself to that life.

  Charlie was a boy who had fallen through the cracks in society. I hoped he would land on his feet when he hit the ground. If he were a cat he would have done, but Humans are poor at landing on their feet.

  The Bad Man Gets Mad

  It was a fine sunny spring morning and I was out exploring. I saw some children playing in the playground of Charleston’s recreation area. Some were on the swings and I saw Fuji with his three friends on the other equipment. I went over to play with them; I’m always popular with children. As we played I heard a voice from above saying:

  “Hello Cocky.”

  I looked to see who had said it, but there was no one in the tree. But then I heard the voice again:

  “Thank you Cat.”

  I saw the speaker; it was a magnificent Sulphur Crested Cockatoo. Then I recognized her, she was the bird the Bad Man had kept in a cage, but had escaped when he tried to kill me by throwing a brick at me and made a hole in the big cage. I meowed to her in reply and she imitated me and meowed back.

  We were playing innocently with the bird occasionally making nonsensical comments in both English and in Cat when a blue van pulled up on Newman Road opposite the playground.

  The Bad Man got out of the car carrying a gigantic shot gun. We were all terrified and I immediately climbed a tree. The Cocky flew upwards, but didn’t instantly fly away. Fuji and his gang hurried the younger children away behind the tennis courts and to further side of the Charleston hall, where there was a safe exit onto Newman Road a bit further up.

  But the Bad Man wasn’t interested in the children or his bird. He was out to get me. I soon realised that I had made a very bad mistake in climbing the tree. The Bad Man couldn’t climb up after me, but he had a gun. I went higher and got into the thicker branches. There was a crash like thunder as he fired up at me. His shot gun looked like a piece of artillery.

  He had just missed, but one of the pellets actually went through the fur on my side. After the shot was fired the cocky flew off in the direction of Woodside. There’s a police station in Woodside and I hoped she had gone for help. Her English is very odd and I knew the police would have trouble understanding her.

  The Bad Man got another colossal cartridge out of his pocket and started to put it in the gun. The nice old lady who lives just up Newman road on the other side came out and came towards us. The bad man pointed his reloaded cannon in her direction and snarled. She beat a hasty retreat, and the Bad Man laughed very nastily.

  I tried to get even higher and out of his sight. I was terrified, but as I climbed I saw that not all my friends had deserted me. Fuji and his gang had returned after making sure the younger children were safe. They were watching from concealment behind the earthen banks of the little BMX track near the tennis courts. From my position high up in the tree I could see them, but the Bad Man on the ground could not. I saw Fuji talking into his mobile phone. I hoped he was calling the police.

  The gun was now pointed at me again, but just before he fired the Bad Man was hit by two small stones while two others fell near him. A second later four more stones landed on or near him. He was distrac
ted and the hail of lead shot went wide. The gang of four had stood up and had thrown two volleys of stones in quick succession and then returned to the protection of the bank so the Bad Man didn’t know where the stones had come from.

  He reloaded the gun and the same thing happened, but this time he caught a glimpse of the boys as they ducked back into concealment. The man was furious and screamed at the boys as he reloaded his gun. He immediately fired at them. I thought they were safe behind the bank and I saw that the deadly torrent of lead shot had hit the high bank, throwing up a big cloud of dust and small stones. But I heard cries of pain and fright from some of the boys. I didn’t know how they could have been hit. They couldn’t risk showing themselves again.

  The Bad Man got another gargantuan cartridge, but the air was filled with ear splitting shrieks as hundreds of Sulphur Crested Cockatoos flew overhead. The Bad Man was confused by the noise as well as probably partly deafened by the noise of his gun and failed to hear the sirens coming from two directions, both along the Onkaparinga Valley Road from Woodside, and down Newman Road. The police cars screeched to a halt simultaneously by the playground and four police officers advanced in a spread out line with hand guns pointing at the Bad Man. He looked