‘Wow!’ said Paul. At four he didn’t quite understand it, but was impressed by all the buttons.
‘Hey, I know,’ said Peter with a huge grin. ‘Why don’t I take a film of both of you, eh? You can act, can’t you? Be fun to see yourself like in the movies!’
Mum and Dad laughed as Peter concentrated through the viewfinder, and Paul and I sprinted off, dancing hand in hand. I was in a light green dress with big sleeves that made me feel girly for once, despite my cropped hair.
That afternoon, Peter captured a rare moment: us, a happy family on film. As our mum and dad held hands, watching their giggling children playing in the fields, for half an hour we were genuinely a family.
Chapter 2
Paul
The summer before I started school, Peter came over, a camera slung around his neck like always. Peter went to chat with Mum in the kitchen and we overheard him.
‘We’ve got more rabbits than you can imagine. Would Terrie and Paul like to come over and choose one?’
I leapt up and down excitedly, clapping my hands with Terrie. Dad didn’t like pets, but he hadn’t been home for weeks, so maybe we could persuade Mum? We both ran out to the kitchen. The excitement must have been showing all over our faces.
Mum sighed, looking at us both. ‘I guess you heard Peter’s news.’ She paused. ‘All right, let’s go and see them this afternoon.’
Terrie and I leapt up and down cheering, and Sam joined in, barking loudly.
Peter drove us to his house later that afternoon. It was bigger than ours and had cats everywhere, on every chair, surface and floor.
‘It’s like a cattery in here,’ laughed Peter. ‘Would you like a glass of orange squash, kids?’
‘Yes please,’ we chimed in unison.
We sat at a table sipping our drinks and nibbling a digestive biscuit Anne had offered from an exciting-looking tin. Terrie was pulling funny faces at me while the adults were busy talking. I tried not to laugh as my mouth was filled with squash, but I choked and sprayed squash all over the table.
‘Paul!’ I heard Mum scold.
‘It’s okay, Cynth,’ Peter said, smiling at me, ‘he’s just excited. Maybe we should go out into the garden.’
I held Terrie’s hand as Peter led us outside into his big grassy garden with a fence around it. There was a small open enclosure in the middle and there were baby rabbits of all colours hopping around. Peter lifted us over and we crouched down. I couldn’t believe how small they were.
I felt really excited and I tapped Terrie’s arm. ‘Can we choose one?’ I mouthed silently.
‘I think so,’ whispered Terrie back.
We started gently stroking them as they jumped past, nibbling grass. My eyes quickly scanned every bunny. I wanted to find mine.
Terrie fell in love with a beautiful fluffy black one. I had my eye on a grey speckled one that was snuffling at my finger. I giggled as the whiskers tickled me.
As we fussed over them, Peter appeared with his camera. Click, click.
‘Hey kids, smile for the camera!’ he said.
Proud in my favourite Superman T-shirt, I gave him my best grin.
After about an hour of deciding, we finally picked our bunnies. Terrie named hers Sooty and mine was Smokey.
Mum couldn’t thank Peter enough. ‘You’re so kind,’ she said repeatedly.
Peter ruffled the top of my head.
‘You’re more than welcome, Cynth.’ He smiled down at us both. ‘The look on these twos faces makes it worth it.’
Peter also gave Mum the things we’d need: a small hutch, sawdust, food, hay and a drinking bottle each. We excitedly set up our new pets’ home that afternoon.
They were so gentle, and soon grew used to us picking them up and stroking them. Every morning I jumped out of bed and went to poke grass through the wire of the cage as a treat. Then I sat and cuddled mine, rubbing my face against Smokey’s silky fur.
A few months after we’d got our new pets, something was wrong with Smokey. He was trying to hop, but looked lopsided. I gently picked him up, but he didn’t want to eat any grass and looked miserable.
‘Muuuuum!’ I cried, calling her to look.
‘Hmm,’ she said, looking upset. ‘He needs to go to a vet.’
We walked to the local vet, carrying Smokey in a box. The vet took one look at his leg and shook his head.
‘He’s broken it,’ he said.
‘What?’ gasped Mum. ‘How did he do that?’
The vet asked if we’d dropped him recently from a height or grabbed his leg in some way. Mum said absolutely not. The vet shrugged and plastered the leg up.
Mum was quiet on the way home. ‘Are you sure you haven’t been too rough with Smokey?’ she asked.
I was completely confused about how Smokey had done this. I kept thinking, maybe it was something I’d done.
My first day at school was traumatic as I hated leaving Mum. The thought of spending all day long without her was too hard and I cried so much in the classroom she had to come and get me. On the second day I was given a pedal bike to race around on in the playground, but when no teachers were looking I pedalled straight out of the gate and home.
‘What’re you doing here?’ asked Mum, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.
‘I don’t like school,’ I said simply.
She let me have that afternoon off, but in the morning I was back there. I found it hard to make friends and preferred sitting under a tree or hanging out in the dinner hall, instead of playing tag, or hopscotch or skipping.
My name didn’t do me any favours either. ‘Duckett, Duckett, there’s a hole in my bucket,’ kids chanted in the playground if I did dare show my face.
Kids always found it easy to be mean about me. From my scuffed shoes to my second-hand uniform that didn’t fit properly. Even the two slices of bread and butter I brought for lunch made kids laugh.
‘Is that it?’ taunted one little boy, waving a packet of crisps and a Wagon Wheel at me, as he tore off the plastic wrapper of the chocolate biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth.
‘Mmmhmm!’ he smiled, chomping into the chocolate.
I looked at my soggy white bread and nibbled it miserably. At least I’m not going to be a fat fucker, I thought to myself.
Mum always did her best, but you don’t get a lot of choice when you don’t have money. Thankfully I started getting free school dinners and quickly learned that making friends with the dinner ladies was the way forward. I loved any food. Lumpy custard with the skin on top was a treat to me.
‘Can I have more, please?’ I beamed gratefully, as an extra spoonful slopped on my plate.
‘You’re a good boy,’ said the kindly dinner lady. When no one was around I’d get slipped an extra biscuit too; coconut ones with a cherry on top were my favourite.
Having dinner ladies as allies made up for the fact I didn’t have many others. While the girls always refused to let me play kiss chase, teachers were more likely to appreciate the nice side of me. I could think up things to get myself out of most sticky situations too.