Monkey and Me Read Free Page B

gone home. And the fire escape felt wonky. It creaked and groaned and I noticed it was quite rusty. I thought I might be too heavy for such an old bit of iron. My banner was flapping a bit as the wind picked up and I tried to climb back into the building. But as I put my feet on the railing it came away from the wall. Not much. But enough. It was a gap big enough to fit my lunch box in, between the wall and railing. I got this sudden lurch in my stomach and I caught my breath, because if it came away from the wall any more I was going to have a problem. Like falling.
    I must have been really clumsy and left too many clues at home, because I saw Mark and Dad arrive in the car and Mark was already pointing up.
    â€œJez! Stay there, son! Don’t move!” Dad shouted.
    I waved, but the iron fire escape wobbled. I held on and had to grip the railing tighter because my knees were trembling and all of a sudden it seemed a long way down to where Mark stood alone looking up at me.
    â€œYou idiot! You absolute moron!” he shouted by way of making me feel better and to disguise his true feelings of concern for me.
    Then, all of a sudden, there was a crowd of people and kids, standing on the other side of the fence. Maybe they’d come to offer their support to save the factory. And right over there, coming down Jessup Road, was a police car with its lights flashing. I’m not so sure they were there for crowd control.
    Then I went all wobbly. That’s happened before once in a while, but just then was not a good time to faint. I gripped the old iron tighter. My nose was running, but I couldn’t let go to wipe it. Then I found it was bleeding. Dad calls it a Bloody Nuisance Nose – it happens now and again.
    Then I saw Dad. He popped his head through a broken window. He smiled and rolled his eyes. He always sees the funny side of things. Dad’s a lot of fun. Sometimes when we’re all out together he embarrasses Mum. There we are walking down the shopping mall and suddenly he jumps in front of us, opens up his big hands and stops us dead in our tracks.
    We know what’s coming.
    â€œJim! Don’t!” Mum warns him.
    But he puts on his mad face which cracks us up. Then he starts. “What do we want?”
    And Mark and I shout back: “Each other!”
    â€œAnd when do we want it?” he yells.
    â€œNow!”
    And we all give high fives. And then he does it again because Mum looks fit to die but he won’t stop until she joins in.
    â€œWhat do we want?”
    â€œEach other!” we shout back and even Mum joins in – she has to or he’ll keep on doing this until someone calls security.
    â€œWhen do we want it?”
    â€œNOW!”
    Then Mum’s also laughing.
    â€œYou’re certifiable, you are, Jim Matthews,” she tells him.
    â€œWell, I’d have to be, coming to the shops on a Saturday with you lot.”
    It’s just one of those moments. It’s called magic.
    I think being stuck up there on an old fire escape that was about to fall four stories into broken rubble might have been what Dad meant about being scared. What he never mentioned was the embarrassment of being rescued. I was never really frightened, but it was extremely embarrassing. Dad reached down and grabbed me and put me over his shoulder – like a sack of coal. And when we got down to the ground there was an even bigger crowd. I closed my eyes tight. That was the only way I could stop everyone gawping. The police said something about trespassing, Dad told them I was only a lad and they said something about at least no one was hurt. Dad was agreeing and said that he’d take me home.
    I didn’t listen to the funny remarks and laughter from the crowd. If you close your eyes tight enough it can affect your hearing.
    I think that’s called turning a blind ear.
    Of course they took me to the hospital – because of the nose bleed – and this set Mum