Black Queen Read Free Page B

in ten minutes.

    “You’re miles away, Billy,” he said. “Anything the matter? You don’t look too good.”
    I should have spoken up. I had the chance, but I didn’t. “Not in the mood,” I said, and left it at that.
    I had another sleepless night, thinking how hard it was going to be to pretend to be a woman, dreading everything I had to do the next day. I drifted in and out of nightmarish dreams – dreams full of killer bees and haunted houses and cackling witches, and a prowling black jaguar with orange eyes which chased me through the jungle.

    By the next morning I really did not want to go and feed Rambo at all. I kept trying to convince myself that promises didn’t matter. Rambo could manage by himself – he’d catch a few mice, he’d murder a few robins. He didn’t need me to feed him, he’d be fine. But when I went out into the garden and heard him yowling pitifully on the other side of the fence, I knew I couldn’t just leave him to starve. I had to do it, I had no choice.
    My father was out at work, and the others had gone shopping. It was now or never. I scrambled over the fence and dropped down into the long grass the other side. Rambo hissed horribly at me from the top of the sundial. He even swiped his claws at me as I crouched down to see if the key was under the flower pot, where the Black Queen had said it would be. It was.
    Quick as a flash I was up the steps and inside the house. My heart was pounding in my ears. I wanted to get it all over as quickly as possible. The black coat and the floppy black hat were ready and waiting. She’d left some glasses too. I put them on and got dressed up. I opened a tin of cat food and scooped it out into the bowl, all the while trying to remember how exactly she had called for Rambo. I practised out loud in the kitchen, imitating her accent, her tone of voice. “Rammy Rambo!” I called out. “Rammy Rambo!” It didn’t sound at all convincing to me.

    I was just making my way out of the kitchen into the hallway, the bowl and spoon at the ready, when I remembered the milk. I went back to the fridge to get it, took out a bottle and nudged the door shut. I was all set. As I came out into the hallway again I was still practising my “Rammy Rambo” call out loud. I was getting better at it all the time. I had the bowl in one hand, the milk bottle in the other. That was the moment I heard someone coughing.
    It sounded at first as if there was someone in the house. A chill of fear crept up my spine. Then I saw the shadow outside the front door, through the frosted glass. I froze where I stood and held my breath. How the milk bottle slipped out of my hand I do not know, but the crash of it echoed through the empty house, echoes that seemed to go on for ever.

    “Are you all right in there, Mrs Blume?” The milkman! I knew his voice. “I thought you said you were away for a couple of weeks.”
    He could see me through the glass. I couldn’t just stand there. I had to say something. “Tomorrow. I’m off tomorrow,” I called out, in her voice, in her accent. “A little accident, that’s all.” I could see his face was pressed up against the glass. “I’m fine, just fine.”
    There was a long pause.
    “You sure you’re all right?”
    “I’m sure. Thanks anyway.”
    There was a long silence; then the shadow bent down. “OK then. I’ll just pick up the empties. Have a good trip.”
    I heard the clinking of bottles and then his footsteps going away down the steps. I couldn’t believe it. I had got away with it! I had fooled him! It was all I could do to stop myself giggling with triumph as I swept up the glass and mopped up the milk. I could hear Rambo yowling out in the garden. If I can fool the milkman, I thought, then I can fool Rambo. He was only a cat, after all.
    I did just as the Black Queen had told me. Tapping the bowl, I went down the steps into the garden and called out: “Rammy Rambo! Rammy Rambo!” Sure enough, Rambo came at