Two Weeks with the Queen Read Free

months.’
    And it’s Luke’s birthday in less than two months, thought Colin bitterly. Wonder what he’ll get? A working model of the Garden Island Naval Depot with matching aircraft carriers? A trip round the world? A car?
    â€˜They’re pretty snazzy shoes,’ Dad was saying. ‘Bloke could end up Prime Minister in shoes like those.’
    â€˜I’ve got shoes.’ Colin pointed down to his brown elastic-sided boots. OK, they were a bit scuffed from when he’d borrowed Doug Beale’s trail-bike and the brakes had failed and he’d had to use his feet to stop, but they’d rub up with a bit of spit and chicken fat.
    Dad sighed.
    â€˜Wish we could all wear boots,’ he said, ‘but if you want people to take notice of you in this world, you’ve got to dress proper and wear decent shoes. Look at me with the Wheat Board. Luke was born on the Sunday, I got the shoes on the Monday, landed the job on the Tuesday arvo.’
    Dad grinned and gave Colin a pretend punch in the guts. Colin tried to smile but his face felt like uncooked Chrissie pud.
    Mum looked at him closely, concerned.
    â€˜Love, is there anything else?’
    Colin was still trying to work out how to explain without sounding like the one thing Dad hated (a whinger) when they heard the thump from the lounge.
    They hurried in.
    Luke lay on the floor, eyes closed, very pale, very still.

Chapter Two
    The ambulance men grunted as they lifted the stretcher into the ambulance.
    â€˜Weighs a bit for a young ’un,’ one of them muttered.
    Mum and Dad, watching anxiously, didn’t say anything so Colin decided he’d better explain.
    â€˜It’s all the food in his digestive tract. Nine turkey nuggets and four lots of Christmas pudding. His large intestine’s probably blocking the flow of blood to his brain.’
    The ambulance men, who’d been half-way through a fourth helping of Christmas pudding themselves at the station and were keen to get back to it, ignored him.
    â€˜You can faint from overeating,’ said Colin. ‘It’s a medical fact. I’ve done it with jelly snakes.’
    One of the ambulance men helped Colin’s mother into the ambulance while the other helped a nurse tuck a blanket round Luke’s legs.
    â€˜Don’t worry yourself, Mrs Mudford,’ said the nurse. She checked Luke’s pulse. ‘He’ll be right. Probably just the excitement of the season.’
    â€˜We’ve warned him about going on bombing raids straight after meals,’ said Colin, climbing into the ambulance.
    The nurse blocked his way.
    â€˜Sorry, young man, full up.’
    Colin glared at her. What a nerve. Specially as she worked part-time in the cake shop on Saturday mornings and probably sold Mum the Chrissie pud in the first place.
    â€˜You go with your Dad,’ said one of the ambulance men, lifting Colin down like a sack of old bandages. He shut the rear doors and trotted round to the cab.
    â€˜Come on, fair go,’ Colin called after him. ‘I’ve never been in an ambulance. Where’s your Christmas spirit?’
    It was obviously back at the station with the Christmas pudding because the ambulance sped away down the street leaving Colin with a mouthful of dust.
    Behind him, Dad blew the horn and signalled tensely for him to get into the car.
    Colin sighed.
    Next Christmas he was going to stuff himself stupid.
    Colin peered down the rubber tube. At the other end the whole world was a tiny circle. In the centre of that circle was Luke, surrounded by most of the nurses and doctors in western New South Wales.
    Well, one doctor and three nurses. And a couple of pieces of important-looking medical equipment that Luke, twisting round in bed, was gazing at with fascination.
    Colin watched as the nurses and the important-looking medical equipment all hummed and winked and made a fuss of Luke.
    Then everything went black.
    At last, thought