The Ashton Road Gang Chapter 8. August

Chapter Eight.

 

 

                                     Mice.

 

          At the bottom of our backyard was a brick air raid shelter. It was now used as a coal shed. We were not supposed to play in there, but on the roof was a different matter. It was easy to get up. A quick climb up the back gate, walk along the wall and there you were. I had rescued some timber from one of the Bonfires and built a hut on the shelter roof. This the gang used as a gang hut occasionally. We did not use it often because Peter’s mother allowed us to use her washhouse. We did not use that very often either. We preferred not to be too close to adults. They had this bad habit of finding work for us to do.

Simon, as you may have gathered, had everything. One of the things which he had was a case in which resided a white mouse. Of course, everyone in the gang wanted a white mouse. Everybody else’s mother said, "No!" My mother went as far as to say, "If any white mouse enters this house then I leave." I thought, at the time that we would have more fun with a white mouse, but for some unknown reason Dad agreed with Mum.

My problem was that I had already acquired a pair of white mice, before I asked. A lad from the Council houses near the park had given them to me. He also gave me a metal case and a large supply of food for them.

"You’ll have to take them back," said Peter.

"I can’t!" I told him. "They’re emigrating to Canada. Tomorrow."

"Great!" said Stew. "What’re you going to do with them?"

"I don’t know…… yet!" I walked up and down Peter’s washhouse, deep in thought. "Got it!" I exclaimed. "The hut. You know, on the coal shed. Its windproof and waterproof. And my mother never ever goes up there. For one thing she couldn’t climb the back gate."

We all giggled at the thought of my mother climbing up our gate.

"Hang on." Said Noddy. "Won’t she think it funny if you keep going up there?" "No, not really." I said. "I often go there to escape from our Mary."

When Mum went out shopping the cage was placed in the driest, warmest part of the hut. The mice seemed happy. They were very tame and would happily climb over my hands and arms. I spent many hours up there with them. Just after they moved into their new home, the female mouse presented me with five little, pink, naked, blind babies. As they grew into perfect pink-eyed replicas of their parents the food began to run low. At the bottom of Ashton Road was a pet shop. It sold mice, rabbits, guinea pigs and even parrots. It also sold pet food. Useful if you had money. I had none. All of my small amount of pocket money was going to pay for the window which I had broken when I threw a cushion at Mary during one of our fights. It looked very much as if I was going to have to confess to my parents about the mice.

Peter saved the day. He came rushing into our yard. "There’s a notice in Black’s Pet shop window!" he shouted.

"Sh!" I said. Mum was in the coal shed.

"Sorry!" said Peter.

Mum carried a shovelful of coal into the house.

"Idiot!" I called Peter. "What notice, anyway?"

"It says ‘White mice wanted’. Perhaps you could sell yours?" he was very excited.

We took the little ones down the road, Mr Black was very pleased with them. No money changed hands, we agreed on a swap, babies for foodstuff. So began a rewarding partnership. I bred the mice, the pet shop sold them. The food problem was solved. My proudest moment came when Mr. Black told me that one of my mice had won first prize in the local pet show. It meant that he could put up the price and advertise the mice as coming from a prize-winning strain. The extra profit provided a new metal cage for my mice.

One afternoon I was in the hut clearing out the cage. While I did this, the parents and their latest litter of three- or four-day old babies were placed in an old shoebox. The wind had been blowing all morning and was getting much stronger. A gust came, which was far stronger than any of the previous ones. The whole hut shock and then moved sideways. Before I could even shout, or do anything the shed began to collapse around my ears. The doorway was blocked by the fallen in roof, but in moving sideways the wall had left a gap between it and the shelter roof. It was the only way out. The space was just big enough for me to wriggle through on my stomach.

As I did, another gust completed the destruction of the hut. A falling beam knocked me over the edge. A head first drop of six feet on to a hard tiled floor is not to be recommended for your health and there I was hanging over the edge of the roof facing just such a drop. I screamed. However, I did not fall, a piece of the hut had me trapped. I merely dangled down, head first. Slowly I slipped free and slid down the rough brick wall to finish in a crumpled heap at the bottom under a pile of timber. My mother came rushing out to see what all the commotion was about. She screamed when she saw me. I staggered up the yard with my shirt and shorts ripped to shreds and covered in blood. In the bathroom, we discovered that my front, from knee to chest was covered in tiny scratches. I looked as if I had been rubbed down with sandpaper. Mum dumped me in the bath and put disinfectant in the water. It stung. Then I had to be patted dry and cream put on the worst of the scratches. We found a few bruises doing that. All the while my mother grumbled at me for doing it, as if I had deliberately thrown myself off the roof.

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and forgot all about the mice until half way through tea. Sick with sudden fear, I ran out of the back door, leaving my food. What my parents thought I do not know. The pile of timber that had once been my hut, was still, most of it, on the coal shed roof. Frantically I clambered up.

Dad came out, "What on earth do you think you are doing?"

I was too busy flinging aside planks to answer. Seconds later I had uncovered the metal cage , a bit battered, but not broken. Next I found the shoebox flattened.

"Oh no!" I cried.

"Well?" shouted Dad from below.

I hardly dared remove the lid. Vaguely I hear Dad shouting to me. I opened the box.

Inside, huddled in the one uncrushed corner, was one white mouse and some babies. It moved. They moved. They were alive. I sighed in relief. Then I realised there was only one adult. The female was missing.

By this time, Mum had come out. "Get down off there!" she shouted. "Now!"

There was nothing for it, the secret had to come out. Slowly I climbed down carrying the battered shoebox and cage.

It was beginning to rain. I followed my parents into the house. I hoped that they would think the water running down my face was rain. I put the cage and the box on the draining board. "Well!" said Mum in the tone of voice that meant tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The whole story tumbled out. Dad leant in the doorway listening. He kept having to turn his head away and cough. I did not know that he had a cold. Anyway, the cough sounded peculiar.

"Hmmm!" said Mum when I finished. "Let’s have a look at these babies then!" I opened up the box expecting her to scream. Surprisingly she did nothing more than shudder as she looked at them. I waited for the explosion. After all, I had disobeyed her orders about the mice.

Dad came over and looked. "Are you sure that’s the father?" he asked stroking its back with his forefinger. Dumbly I nodded. "The mother’s got sort of er… well, er… milk bags underneath." I went red. Dad’s shoulders shock and he coughed again.

"Are you getting a cold?” asked Mary as she came in. Then she saw the mice. Of course, she had to scream and yell.

"Here we go!" I thought. To my utter astonishment, Mum shouted at her. "Be quiet. You can go in the other room if you are going to be silly!"

Mary looked sulky.

"And,” went on Mum. "You can explain later why you were late for tea." Mary slunk out of the kitchen.

I was too upset and worried to feel any pleasure even at that. Mum turned back to the mice. "You’d better put them in the cage and finish your tea." She said.

"But they’ll starve without their mother." I was very worried.

"Your Dad and I will think of something." She smiled reassuringly. "Now eat your tea. It’s in the oven keeping warm and watch the plate it’ll be hot."

It was hard to eat when I thought of those babies, starving to death. Mary was sulking because she had been shouted t. "It’s not fair," she sniffed. "He got the mice and you said he wasn’t to." She chewed a piece of meat." It serves him right, losing the mother. He should be smacked for not doing as he’s told."

"I’ve had enough of your nastiness for one day," said Mum. "Bed!" "It’s not fair!" shouted Mary and stamped her foot. That was enough for Mum. Mary got her legs slapped. She went upstairs in tears. I cannot say I felt sorry for her. She had often got me sent to bed before. Mind I did not say anything, I still reckoned there was a good chance that I was in for a good hiding before the day was over.

After tea, the case was placed in the middle of the table. The father mouse had rebuilt the nest in the little partition made for it. He was busy washing the babies. They were moving around poking at him, looking for food. Every now and then, he would run round the cage as if looking for his wife.

"Now!" said Mum. "Fetch the medicine chest out of the cupboard." Puzzled I did as I was told. Mum rummaged through and found an old eyedropper. From the kitchen, she produced an eggcup full of milk. Fascinated I watched as she took some milk in to the eyedropper and gently allowed the babies to drink it. I do not know which was more surprising, my mother, who was terrified of mice, sitting there feeding them, or the way the babies sucked until they were full.

"I don’t know if cow’s milk is good for them," said Mum. "But it’s all we’ve got. How often do they need feeding?" I had to confess I had no idea. "Well, we will just have to watch then and see how long it is before they start looking for food again." She said. A couple of hours later the babies were hungry again. It seemed they needed a little and often. We fed them and then it was my bedtime. Mum came up with me to make sure that I had a good wash and to look at my almost forgotten scratches. "I’m sorry," I said when I was in bed.

"What about?" she asked as she tucked me in.

The mice! But they haven’t cost a penny honest!"

"Don’t fret," she smiled. "I knew they were there. Mr Black at the pet shop, asked me if it was all right to buy the babies from you."

I was speechless. Later Dad came up to go to the bathroom.

"Dad!" I called. He came in.

"What’s up son? Scratches hurting?"

"A bit," I said. "Did you know that Mum knew about the mice?"

"Oh aye! She wanted to let you bring them in, but I reckoned they were as safe as anywhere up there. I meant to go out and put a few extra nails in your hut but I’ve been a bit busy. Sorry about that. I didn’t think the place would blow down."

Parents are funny things. Mum sat up all night feeding those babies. I know, though she never told me, because I woke up in the night. The scratches were rather painful. I heard a noise downstairs and crept down. The clock was striking four. The light was on in the living room. There sat at the table was Mum, feeding the babies. I crept back to bed.

Next morning, Mum was looking very tired. We all went round the house very quietly. Mum tended to be a bit short tempered when she was tired. Mary was still sniffing about being sent to bed, but one look from Dad sent her off to her friends. She gave me a look as she went that promised painful revenge.

I fed the babies and tidied downstairs. When it looked neat enough to me, I went outside to clear up the mess left by the collapse of the hut. Also, I wanted to find the body of the mother mouse. She deserved a decent burial. Grubby would organise one for me.

It took quite a while, there was an awful lot of timber. Nor could I find the body. Next door's cat was sniffing around all the time I was there. It had probably eaten the mother and was now looking for the rest of the family. I threw piece of wood at it and it fled.

I went in. Mum was sat down yawning, so I persuaded her to go and lie down. I made some lunch and took it up to her at twelve. She looked a bit better. After lunch, she got up and went out shopping. I did not have the heart to play out with the gang and anyway the scratches made movement difficult. I stayed in and watched the father mouse as he looked after his children. He was fantastic. He did everything that the female used to do, except give them milk. I had to do that.

That night Mum stayed up with them again. Next morning the weather was warm and dry so the case was put outside while the house was cleaned. Mum said that I had tried hard, but it was still untidy. It looked all right to me. When it was feeding time again, I went into the kitchen and got the milk ready and took it outside.

Sat on top of the cage, busily trying to gnaw its way inside, was a white mouse. I put the milk and the eyedropper down on the step and crept up to the cage. I had already lost the female, I did not want to lose the father as well. Next door’s cat was bound to be around somewhere. It spent more time in our yard than it did in theirs.

I wondered how the male had got out. The cage door was definitely shut. I wondered if Mary had let him out in revenge. No. Even she would not do that. Beside she was scared of them and had refused to even look in the cage since it had been in the house.

The mouse took absolutely no notice of me nor did next door’s cat which was busy stalking up the yard, its eyes fixed firmly on the cage. I stamped my foot and shouted, "Scat!" The cat stopped moving and stared at me. The mouse did not stop trying to get in. I could probably have driven up in a steamroller. All it was interested in doing was getting into the cage. Quickly I picked it up before the cat could decide it was safe to leap. The cat gave an angry lash of its tail and walked off down the yard, growling to itself.

I looked at the mouse in my hand and then in the cage. Another white mouse sat in the middle, staring up through the bars. I looked at the one in my hand again more closely. It was the female.

My shriek brought my mother running out of the kitchen. "Look!" I cried. "It’s the mother, she’s alive." Quickly I put her in the cage and watched. The father retired to a corner after a quick sniff at his wife, then she fed the babies and re-arranged the bedding. "Typical Woman!" I thought, but I did not say it out loud.

"Thank Heavens for that!" said Mum. "Now perhaps I can get some sleep."

I was allowed to keep the mice in my bedroom. As winter came on, the bottom fell out of the white mice market. Mr Black could not sell the babies. I had to split up my pair to stop them having any more litters. Eventually they grew old and died, within hours of each other. I never replaced them.