Sam was six years old. Although, if you asked him he would disagree. He would inform you, quite seriously in his clear firm voice, that he was six and a quarter years old. And he would be correct.
It was pulse plus one week. Sam’s father had not come home from work after the pulse. He worked in London in a huge glass building that went up so high that it was on the same level as where God lived. Sam’s dad used to say that all decisions made on the top floor went from God, to mister Jenkins to him. The little boy had no idea what his dad actually did but he knew that he was important. Anyone who is removed from God by only one person (mister Jenkins) must be important. Very.
Sam’s mom was a stay at home mother. Sometimes dad used to call her a ‘Domestic Managerial Engineer’, and she would look cross even though Sam thought that it was quite cool being a domestic managerial engineer.
Sam’s mom’s name was Beverly. Dad used to call her, Lovely.
Lovely had been dead for two days now. Bad men had come to their house and mom had hidden Sam in the secret cupboard under the stairs behind the ironing board. The men made mommy scream and cry for a long time and then they went. The next day Sam had come out of the cupboard. He had tried to give his mommy some water. But it just dribbled all over her face and she didn’t move.
The bad men had taken all of the food. But they had left a bag of dog food. The dog food was old. Mom had bought it for Sasha the Labrador but then Sasha had got cancer and went to doggy heaven. No one had thrown away the dog biscuits.
The dog biscuits were very hard but not so bad if you mixed them with water. And Sam had lots of water that he collected from the rain water butt outside the back door.
Sam had put some in his mom’s mouth but she didn’t eat them. She was beginning to smell bad now. It made Sam feel ill so he took a bowl of dog biscuits and water and crept back under the stairs.
Chapter 12