Looking for Africa Page 6

  “Better shake me trousers, Matty - they could be on me!”

  “Nah, it was a while ago, Boxer. Keep yer hair on. Anyway, mice were all over the pub, all over our house and all the way down the street as far as Joey’s house. Poor Mrs Ford was in a terrible state. I think they even reached the Squatters.”

  “What’s the Squatters, Matty?”

  “A place where there are old wooden huts for poor people to live in.”

  “Who’s Joey anyway?”

  “Joey lives with his mum. When she’s out at work we play racing our mice in one of the empty huts. We’ve got an old wooden washboard and the mice run along the channels. The winning mouse gets a lump of cheese.”

  “Sounds fun, Matty.”

  Nifty was looking out of the window while racing was going on. Suddenly he saw someone coming out of the woods.

  He shouted out, “It’s Chink.” Then he paused a little. “He’s got something in his hand,” said Nifty, moving away from the window.

  “Bleedin’ hell, he’s got a sword in his hand!” someone shouted.

  We all crowded around the window.

  “Rocks, did you take those bones back to the Roman grave like you promised?” someone said.

  All of the Big Five were staring, all eyes on him.

  “You didn’t, did you?”

  All eyes stayed on him.

  “OK, OK, I was scared to go back. So what?”

  “Chink has got the Roman sword in his hand, that’s what, and he’s going barmy with it.”

  “I’m not going outside while he’s going potty,” said Little Joe, his fat belly wobbling.

  “We must stay calm,” said Rocks. “I’ll grab him from behind while you lot jump on him.”

  We formed a circle around him. Chink was not a big boy by any means, but he was as tough as a nut, I can tell you. He was short and stocky and his blond hair always stuck up in the air. He had the Roman sword in both hands and he was swinging it round and round in circles while chanting weird noises.

  “He’s got white stuff coming out of his mouth.” someone shouted.

  Chink fell to the floor, making more weird noises. Rocks grabbed hold of him from behind and took the sword from him. Rocks gave a scream of pain as he took hold of the sword. It was red-hot. We covered the sword up in some old rags and took it back to the Roman grave.

  “That must have been the best thing to do, Matty.”

  “Chink was OK and sitting up. He knew nothing of what had just happened.”

  “Where does Chink live, Matty?”

  “Chink lives in St Mary’s Street. His Mum has many children - a hundred, I think. They are always in nice clean clothes, though. How she looks after so many nobody knows. Let me just say here about my friend Peter Harris, Boxer, and explain why he is such a good friend. I’ve got to get me breath first.”

  “Why was it, Matty.”

  “Well, the railway line that goes past our house leads on to the old wooden River Ouse bridge. Well, we dive off this bridge into the River Ouse and one day I swam in the Black Waters, as we call a dangerous part of the river with weeds below the water that you can’t see from above. Peter was sitting on the bridge watching. He had decided not to swim in the Black Waters with me.

  He saw me disappear underwater, and then I remember him pulling me to safety and taking me back to his house. Mrs Harris gave me a hearty meal of fresh rabbit pie and she dried all my clothes by the log fire. I can remember what happened underwater, Boxer. It’s as real as you and me are talking now. It was the weeds what did it - they were the things that dragged me to the bottom. I was pulled down by them. The more I tried to get back to the surface the more they pulled me down.”

  “Sounds too frightening to bear,” said Boxer, itching in his seat.

  “Sinking right to the bottom, I couldn’t breathe. I was at death’s door for sure. Then I remember being dragged up to the surface and seeing Peter’s hand pulling me out. Hang on, Boxer,” I said, rubbing my bum, I’m just going to fetch that old sack over there to sit on. Did you know your mum and dad, Boxer?” I asked as I returned to the log.

  He looked me square in the face. It wasn’t with a look of anger, but more a look of surprise.

  “My mum ...” he said with pride.

  “Carry on, Boxer,” I said, waiting patiently for him to continue. “You can talk to me about it, you know.

  “Yes, I think I can talk to you, Matty. I’m sure she would have kept me if she could, not handed me over like a lump of old rag. Anyway, one day I will find her.”

  Chapter 13 - Invasion

  I was just about to speak to Boxer again when I saw the expression on his face change. He had a look of total fear in his eyes, I can tell you. He was looking past me and he looked as white as a sheet. The silence became chilling to the spine. A black swirling mist hovered a distance away, and a strange sound - something which neither of us had ever heard before - arose from the stillness.

  The sound seemed to be that of a Roman army moving forward, heaving something, slapping their hands on their chest armour, moving forward, heaving, and slapping their hands on their chest armour again. The sound became louder and the cloud grew darker. Suddenly we heard the sound of a whip cracking. The Devil Jack was the wielder of the whip.

  I turned my head to the direction Boxer was looking. In the distance all we could see was a surging brown mass of rats. The mass was swaying from side to side accompanied by the howling laughter of evil. We both stood up slowly, gasping, appalled by what we felt to be pure hell. I started to scream. The Devil Jack was whipping the rats to a frenzy, but suddenly everything stopped. The evil was stationary.

  “Thank Gawd!” said Boxer, shaking. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel sick,” he said, still shaking.

  “Looks like the Devil Jack has gone, though.”

  Something moved just a short distance away from where we both stood, just as we both relaxed. An old tin can lying on the floor began to move of its own accord.

  “Don’t do that, Matty,” said Boxer. “You’re putting me on edge.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I retorted.

  “Don’t say that, please, Matty,” he said, clenching his hands together.

  “I swear to you, Boxer, that I never touched that can.”

  Just as I said that, it moved again of its own accord. Behind us, just a few feet away, there was more movement in the grass and a tunnel appeared. More tunnels appeared, and still more.

  “We can’t make a run for it, Boxer, as every direction now leads into a tunnel,” I said, shaking.

  The sun started to creep behind a large cloud. Darkness began to fall upon us, although it was only midday. The darkness was like a blanket which covered just where we were and nowhere else. Not a sound could be heard. Not a bird was singing, yet before the darkness came they were in full chorus.

  Through the darkness we spotted a small pair of green eyes.

  “It’s watching us, Matty - watching every move we make,” said Boxer, still shivering with fear.

  “There’s another pair of eyes over there.” I pointed. “Look - there are eyes coming out of that tunnel.”

  Boxer yelled with fear. Something leapt up from the ground and attached itself to his neck. It was a rat - the most evil of all rats as well as the largest and most deadly. That was why we had heard no more from the seething mass. They were there - the evil was upon us.

  “My granddad told me, Boxer--” I tried to talk further, but my mouth stayed shut with terror.

  “Told you what, Matty?” he replied, shaking and ready to run.

  “It’s rats! Rats! Rats!” I said, my voice now hoarse with shouting. “They march from one part of the river over to the other side once a year and they eat everything in their path.”

&
nbsp; He screamed out, “Bleedin’ hell!”

  The army of rats was bearing down on us as we sat frozen to the log. Monstrous things they were. So terrified were we that a scream erupted from both of us at the same time. Some of the rats had already climbed on top of the log we were sitting on. One made for Boxer’s face again, but I managed to wrench it off. The rats appeared to be making their way towards the river; some had already swum to the other bank. I shook with fear so violently that I almost fell off the log and into the oncoming army. I felt the strong arm of Boxer grab hold of me and drag me back.

  “Matty,” Boxer shouted out, “grab hold of this iron ladder and follow me to the roof of the kiln.”

  I screamed out to him, “They’re on my trousers. I can’t shake them off.” Shaking my ankles, I screamed out again: “I can’t get them off. Get them off me, Boxer.”

  As I scrambled to the top, Boxer was ready for the rats on my trousers. He was hanging on to a post as I climbed to join him. With his right boot he kicked the rats off one by one, back into the mass.

  We stood on top of the kiln watching them march past. We were totally silent. The experience had drained us. Eventually the rats disappeared out of sight.

  “My camp,” I shouted to Boxer as I jumped to the ground. “They must be marching through my camp.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said with a curious look. “Camp? What sort of camp?”

  “Come with me, Boxer. It’s only across one field.”

  “Let’s get away from here, Matty.”

  Chapter 14 - The Houseboat

  As we ran I began to shake off the experience of the rats. Suddenly someone called me from the direction of the backwater. It was Nifty. I waved back to him. He was waving for us to go over. We reached the backwater. Boxer wasn’t used to walking barefoot and felt the pain with every pothole under his feet. We told Nifty about our experience and how we escaped. Nifty is a wiry lad, with mousey hair and skinny legs, like me. He has darting brown eyes which never seem to be still. Even when you are talking to him, he won’t look at you for very long. The more we told him about the rats the more his eyes darted. He was petrified - especially when we told him about the Devil Jack.

  Nifty is a good friend, though. He had been working on the raft for the Big Five on his own. Sometimes we would see him with a black eye at school, and we knew he had been training to box down at the boys’ club.

  “I’ve started the raft for the regatta, Matty.” He nodded hello to Boxer. “Hey, little fella,” he said to Tonka. “Where did you get him from anyway, Matty?”

  “He’s been a star.” I told him how he came into the kiln.

  Nifty thought he was great. “Yeah, he’s a super little dog.”

  “What’s that for?” said Boxer, pointing to the oil drum.

  “We’re building a raft,” I replied as we made our way down the bank. “We will tie all the barrels together and the wooden slats will make a flat top. We’re getting ready for the regatta. One raft comes under the river bridge with everyone aboard dressed as Romans. Everyone aboard the other raft will be dressed as Saxons. One side throws soot and the other side throws flour. The regatta starts soon and this year we’re in it. There will be rowing races, beauty competitions, swimming races - all sorts, Boxer.”

  “Do you think they will let me join in?” he replied.

  “Of course they will, Boxer,” called out Nifty.

  “How about this for an idea, Nifty, before you go any further with the raft ...”

  “OK, Matty, I’m all ears.”

  “Those three houseboats opposite Port Holme, where the Black Water is - one of them is empty.”

  “Yeah, I know the ones, Matty.”

  “Well we, the Romans, are the most important at the regatta, so we should have the best boat of all - the houseboat.”

  “Matty, that’s a great idea.” Nifty stopped what he was doing and climbed up the backwater bank. “Yes, that’s great. We can have a meeting with the boys and talk about it.”

  Chapter 15 - A Dare for Boxer

  Nifty arranged the meeting with the other members of the Big Five - that’s Nifty, Nat Arnold, Rocks, Little Joe and me. By the way, Little Joe should count as three - he couldn’t stop eating pies, that is if he could persuade someone to give him the money. The pillbox was the Big Five’s meeting place. It was a good spot because it was surrounded by willow trees. We could climb up a tree and watch without being seen.

  “The first thing to talk about”, I said, tapping my potato stick on a brick, “is whether Boxer here can join the Big Five.”

  Everyone stopped talking and gently turned their potato sticks above the open fire.

  With a mouthful of hot potato, Rocks spoke first: “Do you agree to do a dare, Boxer?” He turned his head to each member and waited for signs of agreement. One by one the group said yes, and Boxer was dared to jump on board the houseboat and see if anyone was about on it.

  “I say yes to that dare,” responded Boxer.

  “Anyone running away when doing a dare shall be caught, staked out on the ground and left to die,” said Rocks as he sat crunching a lump of sandstone to powder in his hands and looking from one member to another.

  “Say a time and I’ll be there. I’m no chicken,” said Boxer.

  Chapter 16 - Mrs Kilby

  Meanwhile, back at my house, my mum was sick with worry. She knocked at Mrs Kilby’s house, next door, and was relieved that Mrs Kilby was in.

  “I just called to see if you want a cuppa, Mrs K.”

  Mrs Kilby smiled and ushered Mum in.

  “Take a seat, Rene.” She pulled out one of the heavy oak, highly polished chairs and Rene sat down.

  “I’ll make one for you instead,” said Mrs Kilby. “You look all in,” she added as she opened the small wall cupboard in the far corner of the room and took out two cups.

  Rene burst into tears. “My Matty hasn’t come home yet.”

  She took out a white handkerchief that was tucked in the sleeve of her dark-green sweater.

  “There, there, Rene,” said Mrs Kilby, gently tapping her hand on Rene’s arm. “I’m sure he won’t be long now. He’s not a boy that’s disobedient.”

  Mrs Kilby had been in the middle of making another rag rug when Rene called.

  “I have a few more bits and pieces of old clothing,” said Rene, her eyes still streaming. “There will be enough to finish your rug off.” She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief again. “I will cut them into strips ready for pegging, and bring them around tomorrow.”

  Mrs Kilby smiled, and nodded her head with gratitude.

  Having our family living next door, popping in and out to her house, had been a great comfort to Mrs Kilby. Making rag rugs had also helped, as she met lots of other people who also enjoyed making them. Mrs Kilby and our family shared the same small backyard. Mum had to fetch water from the old pump in the corner of the yard for her as she couldn’t walk too well.

  The bucket toilets we had were emptied every day by a man with a horse and cart. Every morning at five o’clock we could hear the sound of metal buckets clanking up and down our path. The stench followed the cart, I can tell you, but that didn’t stop the sewage men from whistling and singing. In fact, I think they liked the work. One of the men was called Ken. He would sing louder than the others and took no notice when he was told to be quiet. Let me say something else at this point about Ken. There was a small green called Peaches Corner near the causeway in my village, and some of us boys would get together there. This man, Ken, would sometimes be there on the wooden seat, head flopped backwards, absolutely drunk with loads of empty beer bottles around him on the grass, singing his heart out.

  Rene decided to visit some of my friends’ houses, just to check I wasn’t there. She put on her headscarf and tucked in the last st
rands of her mousey hair.

  ‘I’ll just put a small amount of make-up on to hide the tears,’ she thought before going out.

  Then she fed our black-and-white cat, Ted, before leaving. As she sat on the kitchen chair, she watched Ted eating his food. Her thoughts of me laughing and rolling on the floor with Ted and my dad, Reggie, left her tearful.

  ‘I must get out of the house,’ she thought.

  She closed the front door behind her, and made her way to The Avenue.

  Chapter 17 - The Thieves

  “The camp looks OK, Boxer. The rats haven’t done any damage except to eat my food.”

  “That’s good,” replied Boxer, surveying for any damage. “Pity about the food, though - I’m feeling hungry.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Boxer. There’s a potato field at the back over there - we can light a fire and cook some spuds.”

  “Sounds a good idea to me, Matty.” He started to feel through his pockets, “I’ve still got some book matches left over that you gave me. I say let’s build a fire in the corner of the field and get cooking.”

  I cleaned the two spuds we had dug up then stuck a stick inside each spud and handed one to Boxer. As I rotated the spud in the fire, I turned to see Tonka had nothing to eat. His head moved from left to right as much as to say, “Me too.” He munched away on the spud I gave to him, wolfing down skin and all.

  Returning to the kiln, the three of us made our way to the old buildings where Boxer said we could find the large basket. We began sauntering across the yard, talking quite loudly of the places to travel in the barrage balloon. Suddenly Tonka stopped, his ears pricking upwards.