****
Simon’s Dad along with his Uncle Tim had gone inside. The outdoor table was full of party food and surrounded by Simon’s friends. His cousin Lynnie had assumed command over the other children now that the grown-ups had disappeared, based on the fact that she was the oldest.
“If anyone hogs all the food I’m gonna dob.” She said, and nobody seemed to argue with her.
Lynette Anderson was already seven years old and quite capable of bossing around a backyard full of boys two years younger than herself. She stood guard over the table in her white dress with a pink sash around her waist tied at the back in a bow. She wore a matching pink ribbon in her ash blonde hair. Her pretty blue eyes didn’t hide the fact that she had a stare like an army sergeant. Enough to make a boy retreat five paces if she glared at him, as Max Abbott Jnr found out when he snatched a huge handful of sweets from the table.
“Hey, don’t take that many!” She snapped at him.
“So?” Max had simply said as he backed away from the table.
“So, there are others okay!” Lynette continued.
Max found a place on his own in the backyard and began scoffing the sweets from his hand. His other hand still clutched the front of his shirt where underneath he was hiding the cowboy action figure he had given to Simon for his birthday. Nobody else had noticed him take it from inside the house earlier. The braces that went over his blue striped shirt had done a good job of holding the cowboy doll in place, as well as holding up his trousers.
Simon was over by the table standing next to his friend Brian. The two of them were drowning cocktail franks in a bowl of tomato sauce when Max came back over and pushed in between the two of them.
“Hey, don’t push.” Said Brian as Max bumped the small frankfurt from his hands. It left a trail of tomato sauce down the front of his bright yellow t-shirt. “Now look what you done.”
Max had grabbed the bowl of party sized frankfurts for himself and was turning away from the table when Simon grabbed his arm.
“Put them back Max,” he could remember shouting, shaking Max’s arm and causing half the frankfurts to spill onto the grass. Immediately Simon let go and Max backed away, still holding the bowl with two hands.
“That’s it!” Lynette shouted as she stormed her way around the table. “I’m dobbing on you!”
Everyone stopped eating and turned to where Max stood on his own, watching in stunned silence as the cowboy action figure fell out of his shirt and landed at his feet.
“That’s Simon’s.” Brian yelled at him.
“Yeah, why were you stealing it?” Demanded Cameron.
Simon rushed forward and picked the cowboy doll up off the ground. He stood there silently holding it for a moment, unable to think of anything to say. What happened next would stick in Simon’s mind forever. Max stepped forward and snatched the cowboy doll from Simon’s hand, and threw it high in the air, over the heads of the other children who turned and watched as it landed on the roof of the house. It bounced a few times along the roof tiles as it slid down towards the gutter, before it finally fell into it, and disappeared from view.
“I hate you Max!” Simon screamed, as he turned around to face him.
“Yeah, well this is a stupid party.” Max yelled back as he began throwing the remaining frankfurts at him.
“Stop that!” Lynette shouted as she reached out to grab the bowl from him. She wasn’t quick enough however, and one hit her in the face. Her second attempt managed to free the bowl from his grip, but sent the entire contents tumbling to the ground. “You are in so much trouble.”
“Simon, go tell your Dad!” Cameron shouted.
Simon turned and raced to the back door, tears welling up in his eyes after just watching his new cowboy doll end up on the roof. His party was being ruined by Max and he wished he had never invited him. Reaching the back of the house he slid the door open, tears now streaming down his face and stepped inside.
Confused at first with the sound of adults screaming at each other, he stopped himself from calling out for his father and froze at the far end of the kitchen, beside the bench. Looking through the kitchen into the dining room, his eyes opened wide in alarm at what was unfolding before him.
His Grandpa and Poppy were shouting at each other while his father and his Aunty Gail tried to hold them back. Simon watched horrified as his Grandpa punched his Poppy in the face. There was a lot of shouting from his Aunty Gail and Grandma while he could see his mother crying at the table, her head in her hands. Then he watched in horror as his Poppy hit his Grandpa again and again until he fell to the floor. His Grandma started crying and his Mum yelled at her to shut up. Finally his Dad shouted at everyone and the room went quiet. Scared of what might happen to him if they saw him, Simon turned and ran out of the house, hurriedly closing the door behind him.
Outside again, he looked up in time to see Max push his cousin Lynnie to the ground causing her to cry. His friends Brian and Craig had been trying to stop him but Max brushed past them and headed straight for the table. Grabbing the tablecloth in a fit of rage he gave it an almighty tug, bringing half of what was on the table crashing to the ground and sending drinks spilling over whatever else remained on top. The backyard fell quiet. Even Max froze where he was standing, as all the children stared silently at the destruction before them. There was broken glass and smashed china bowls among the spilt food scattered over the ground. Soft drink still dripped through the cotton tablecloth that was dangling from the table onto the grass below.
In the silence, nobody heard Simon come charging from the back door. They only noticed him as he rounded the table and ran straight at Max, tackling him hard to the ground.
“You ruined my party!” Simon screamed at him as he sat up, straddling over Max and began pummelling the boy’s face with his fists.
Beneath him, Max started crying from the pain, blood flowed from his nose as Simon relentlessly continued his assault. All Max could do was try and shield his face with his hands. As Simon’s arms started to tire, Max was able to wriggle out from under him, desperate to get away. As he struggled to get to his feet, Simon grabbed him again, bringing him back down to the ground. As Max’s face was driven into the grass he felt a sickening, sharp pain just above his left elbow and let out a terrified scream.
Simon bit him hard, sinking his teeth into the back of his arm. Max continued to wail as Simon grinded his teeth down harder until a strange taste entered his mouth. No sooner had he noticed this however when Simon felt the pain of his head being pulled up by his hair, and immediately he let go.
During the scuffle Simon hadn’t heard his Uncle Tim, upon seeing what was happening in the backyard, come racing outside.
Tim yanked him off Max and immediately let him drop to the side, sending Simon sprawling backwards on the grass. He gave Simon a quick look of disgust as he lay there on the ground, his mouth stained red with blood. Scooping up Max in his arms he turned and raced towards the house, the children all watching silently until he disappeared inside.
“Do you think you’ll get in trouble?” Cameron asked after a few moments silence had passed.
“He started it.” Said Brian.
“Oh no!” Simon cried at the sight of his mother storming out of the back door, wooden spoon in hand.
His father was right behind her, looking just as angry. One by one the others appeared in the doorway, Aunty Gail, Grandma, Grandpa and Poppy. He had seen what had happened inside before and now they were all coming for him. The children parted in stunned silence as the adults set a quick pace across the backyard.
“I’m sorry Mum.” He cried. “I didn’t mean it, it was an accident. Please Mum, no!”
It didn’t stop them. They kept advancing towards him as he scrambled backwards on his hands and feet. His mother lashed out at him with the wooden spoon, missing him narrowly while his father grabbed him by one leg. They had circled him now, cutting off any chance of escape as he lay quivering on the ground.
He could see his Grandpa standing behind his father, his bottom lip was all bloodied.
Crack! A sudden sting exploded from his thigh as the wooden spoon connected. Crack! Again, as it struck him this time on his forearm. It was no use. They were going to hurt him like Poppy and Grandpa had hurt each other inside! Crack! Again the wooden spoon found its target, this time on the side of his stomach as he wriggled about on the ground. Simon bellowed out in pain. For years to come, this would be the part of his nightmare where he would wake up cold and sweaty.
Simon closed his eyes as he struggled frantically against them, he would have no further memory of this day as he grew up. No memory of kicking out his spare leg in defence and striking his mother in the stomach. No memory of the volley of blows with the wooden spoon that followed until finally it snapped in two. No memory of grabbing his mother’s hair and pulling on it with all his might, while the others all slapped at him until finally he let go. No memory of them stopping when they realised something was wrong and that Simon was convulsing uncontrollably on the ground. No memory of how it took four adults to restrain him in the middle of a fit and get him inside the house to try and calm him down. No memory of crying himself hoarse in his bed until exhaustion took its toll on his little body and tiredness won over, or the little sobs he continued to make all night in his sleep.
The only other memory Simon had of that day was a photo in the family album of him standing smiling on the front porch with his Grandma and Grandpa, his Uncle Tim and Aunty Gail and his two cousins Lynnie and Justin on the day he turned five.