Hamster Gangster

by Angela Robb

  We are watching from atop a pile of crates. Everything about this place spells trouble: the stale smell in the lane; the drip of water into murky puddles; the cat-shaped shadows that creep on the walls.

  ‘An’ you should think abou’ that,’ says Dwayne. ‘Sssssubtlety. Not your ssstrong suit, you lot.’

  ‘No, it ain’t,’ laughs the big ginger tom. ‘We prefer diggin’ up your tunnels, don’t we Moley?’

  The cats snigger.

  ‘Yes! No rrrespect for hard work, you catsss … nnever do any hard work.’

  ‘’Course not!’ says the smoky grey cat, rolling on to her back. ‘We’ve got stooges to do our spy work for us! Like moles, and pigeons.’

  ‘Ahhh,’ says Dwayne, ‘pigeons are grubby.’

  ‘Honest as always!’ This time it’s the black cat with one eye and four white socks. ‘You keep that up, Moley. It’s the best policy.’

  ‘Assolutely. Cannot tell a lie.’ Dwayne tries to stand straight and proud, but tips forward.

  ‘Them rats don’t know how lucky they are to have you.’

  Now they’re yowling with laughter.

  ‘Tell us,’ says the ginger one, ‘how you became so very honest.’

  ‘Well …’

  Dwayne is really blabbering now, so I’ll try to translate …

  Okay, so as a young mole, he once … took revenge on some naughty cousins … who played some kind of trick on him with little pieces of earthworms … by sending them the wrong way through his tunnels … so that rather than coming up in a field of strawberry plants as he’d said they would, they found themselves … on a golf course … surrounded by angry golfers who didn’t like moles or molehills, and who … took a swing at them with their golf clubs …

  And the cousins came home … black and blue. Even for moles. And so great was the shock … and the row Dwayne got from his parents, and his auntie and his uncle … that he has never been able to tell a lie since.

  The cats are lying down and stretching out, but also shuffling on their bellies towards Dwayne, tightening the circle around him.

  I am suddenly aware of Tina on my left, preparing to take a daring leap. Nev grabs hold of her.

  ‘Well there’s a lesson in there somewhere,’ says the tabby, the hugest of them all.

  ‘Sure is,’ agrees Dwayne.

  ‘So maybe,’ continues the cat, ‘we can appeal to that good, honest nature of yours one last time, an’ ask if there’s one or two itty bitty pieces of information you might not have given us last time we talked.’

  ‘Aaahhh … tha’ll be ’cause you never asked lass time we talked.’

  ‘Absolutely. So now we’re askin’.’ The cat stands up and slinks even closer to Dwayne, but the mole is smiling and swaying gently from side to side. ‘Is it true what everyone’s sayin’ about the hamster? We’ve been hearin’ all about him, this hamster who’s got in with the rats. Seems he’s makin’ quite an impression.’

  I feel a little quiver running down my spine. I’m not sure whether it’s pride or panic. Tina gives me a thumbs up.

  ‘Is it true he’s as big as a guinea pig? That he can toss bicycles and lift a can of treacle in each hand?’

  Dwayne is laughing. ‘You mean Rocco?’

  The cat smiles, but he’s showing a lot of fangs and there’s a growl in his throat. ‘What can you tell us about young Rocco, Moley? We’d all like to congratulate him on his achievements. In person.’

  I know this is what I’ve been dreaming of: showdown with the alley cats, Rocco the Incredible takes on the fearsome enemy (and wins). Yet suddenly I feel a bit light-headed. Nev looks as if he’s about to be sick, but Tina is pumping her fist like I’ve already flattened the lot of them.

  ‘Well, I … ssss’pose that sounds like … a nice … nice thing …’ Dwayne’s voice is fading, and his head keeps nodding forward on to his chest. ‘You see the … the thing ’bout Rocco is …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘… he does tend to … win … every time … ’cause he has a dog … a dog …’

  Dwayne flops to the ground, snoring quietly.

  ‘He has a what?’ spits the tabby. ‘A dog? How can he have a dog!’ He prods Dwayne hard.

  ‘He’s passed out,’ sighs the grey cat.

  ‘Well he’ll be seein’ plenty more of us when he wakes up,’ says the black-and-white one. ‘That last bit’s gonna need some explanation.’

  ‘Let’s leave him here, he won’t be going anywhere in the next hour or so,’ growls the tabby. ‘I don’t know about you lot, but I’m ready for some more of that delicious fish. Let’s go see what our new best friend’s been pan frying.’

  We duck low as the cats troop past our crates. The ginger cat comes last. ‘Sweet dreams, Moley,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘We’ll be seein’ ya.’

  We sit perfectly still until they’re safely out of earshot. Now, at last, I can say what’s on my mind.

  ‘What’s he talking about?! I have a dog?! That’s either a genius way of convincing them to stay away, or the best reason they’ll hear to make getting rid of me their first priority!’

  ‘I think we should try and wake him up,’ says Nev. So we hurry over, and Nev’s saying, ‘Dwayne. Dwayne,’ softly in his ear, but I’m quite keen to give his shoulders a good shake and see if that helps. Suddenly, Dwayne starts murmuring.

  ‘… a dogged deter … determination.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Nev. ‘I think that explains Rocco’s dog.’

  ‘Well, hulloooo,’ Dwayne manages. ‘Didn’t … sssssee you there.’

  ‘You’re blind, Dwayne, you don’t see anything.’

  ‘True. Ahhhhh. Just wait till I tell you how I … just got rid of a load of those cats, N— … Ne—’

  Dwayne’s head drops back on to the ground. He’s snoring loudly.

  ‘All right,’ I say. ‘Let’s get him out of here.’

  We pick Dwayne up and carry him back to the beer kegs. He can sleep it off in one of those – one that is completely fume-free.

  28

  Fromage Fray

  ‘How very helpful of them!’ Vinny sneers from the front of the chamber. ‘Those cats ’ave finally done us a favour by riddin’ us of that good-for-nothin’ mole. The molehills ’ave been smashed up and the park’s a mole-free zone.’

  The rats chuckle unpleasantly, but Nev, Tina and I are looking at each other with relief: no one will be looking for Dwayne any longer. Nev’s mum and dad, Uncle Alfie and Pip have tears in their eyes, and they’re hugging each other, and – oh, yes, of course, they’re hugging the three of us as well … I want to tell them right now that Dwayne is fine, but it’s too dangerous; it’ll have to wait till we’re all back at the mouse house.

  ‘All righty,’ says Vinny, ‘that just leaves us with the flea-bitten furballs themselves. Not to mention the fiendish cook!’

  Cue grunting and muttering from the crowd.

  ‘We are the Big Cheese’s gang! We own these docks, and there ain’t no way we’re gonna sit ’ere and wait to be starved out, poisoned, and pounced on like cotton-stuffed cat toys!’

  A roar of agreement.

  ‘So what’s the plan, boss?’ Vinny turns towards the Big Cheese’s pipe. ‘Is it all-out war, or somethin’ more cunning?’

  Vinny is rubbing his hands together and is clearly very keen on that second option, but there is silence from the pipe.

  ‘Whatever you say, consider it done! And no messin’!’ There are shouts of ‘Yeah!’ and ‘No messin’!’ from the other rats.

  But still nothing from the Big Cheese.

  ‘Boss? You there, boss?’

  Everyone is starting to fidget.

  ‘All right, all right!’ Vinny gestures the crowd to be quiet. ‘Everyone stay calm. Any bets he’s just … just …’

  ‘Just w
hat?’

  ‘Just where?’

  ‘Maybe the villains got to him!’ someone squeaks. ‘Maybe the Big Cheese is …’

  A deathly hush falls over the gang. Vinny thinks about this for a moment.

  ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Let’s just go knock on his door.’

  He scurries out of the chamber and up the pipe that leads to the Big Cheese’s private quarters, with everyone hurrying after him. I’ve never been this way before, although of course I’ve dreamed of entering the Big Cheese’s den. There’s a smell like … well, like the smell inside the washing machine the day Gary put me in there with his dirty socks.

  Vinny stops by a hole in the wall. On each side of the hole sits a large and particularly plump rat. These are the Big Cheese’s personal bodyguards. They are staring at all of us in surprise.

  ‘Where’s the boss?’ demands Vinny.

  One of the guards shrugs. ‘Inside, of course,’ he says.

  ‘Well he wasn’t at the meeting just now. You sure he ain’t gone out?’

  ‘’Course not. He never goes out, you know that.’

  ‘For reasons of personal security,’ adds the other guard.

  ‘And no one else could’ve slipped in?’

  ‘Like who?’

  Vinny eyes them suspiciously. ‘How come you pair are still so chubby?’

  The two guards look offended.

  ‘’Cause you see,’ Vinny continues, ‘the rest of us ’ave been feelin’ a bit peckish lately, lyin’ low down ’ere, stayin’ out the sight of them cats. You sure you ain’t been sneakin’ out for snacks? Found a handy stash of grub somewhere and keepin’ it all to yourselves? I hope you ain’t been bringin’ in any titbits for the boss, ’cause you might have heard, there’s poison doin’ the rounds.’

  ‘Look, we ain’t been sneakin’ no place, ’cause our job is to stand ’ere, like so.’

  ‘And we take our job very seriously.’

  ‘Yes we do. Now why don’t you try sittin’ still, day in, day out, gettin’ no exercise or nothin’, an’ we’ll see how the pounds drop off you.’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ says Vinny impatiently. ‘In that case you won’t mind all of us goin’ into the Big Cheese’s office to see he’s all right and have a chat with him.’

  ‘’Course we’ll mind. We’re stayin’ put, and we ain’t lettin’ anyone through. Them’s the rules.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Well today the rules have changed. You might not let anyone through, but you can’t not let everyone through.’

  The guards barely have time to exchange puzzled glances before the rats pile on top of them. The method of attack seems to be to tip them forward, on to their stomachs. As they rock back and forth on their bulging bellies, they wave all four feet like crazy, but can’t make them touch the ground.

  So just like that, we’re all squeezing through the hole and racing through the dark passageway that leads to the Big Cheese’s chamber. Now everyone’s spilling through the doorway … I’m just trying to get in among them, and … ouch … I’m being carried through, wedged between several warm, wiry bodies …

  Inside the chamber, I’m struck by many things at once. There are makeshift shelves from floor to ceiling, bending under the weight of all kinds of foodstuffs … Then there’s the shapeless blob of candle wax over by the far wall, and in the corner, another shapeless blob …

  No. Wait. The blob in the corner is a rat, a huge rat who makes the guards back at the hole look like little dainty rats … He’s lying on his back, snoring at high volume … As a matter of fact, he’s lying on an old roller skate with the upper part of the shoe torn off …

  ‘Is that the Big Cheese?’

  I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but then, someone had to. Everyone is gathered round. There are shocked faces. Disbelieving faces. Angry faces.

  ‘Boss?’ says Vinny. The giant rat does not stir. ‘BOSS! BOSS! WAKE UP!!’

  The Big Cheese wakes with a start, grunting loudly. ‘What? What? Who—?’ He stares, blinking. ‘Woss all this about? You ain’t s’posed to be in ’ere.’

  ‘You weren’t at the meeting, boss,’ growls Vinny. ‘We was concerned that somethin’ bad had happened.’

  ‘Well I’m fine. As you can see. So all of you can clear off back to the chamber and tell me what I missed.’

  There is a lot of snarling and shaking of heads.

  ‘Afraid we can’t do that, boss,’ says Vinny. ‘See, all this time we thought you was our upstandin’ leader who stays in ’ere for security reasons. But it turns out you ain’t upstandin’, ’cause you can’t even stand up, and you’ve been stayin’ in ’ere so that none of us would know what a lazy layabout you are.’

  The Big Cheese bristles. ‘You criticise me because of my size?’ he asks huffily, in a suddenly posh accent.

  ‘No!’ Once again I didn’t mean that to come out, but there it is; and now everyone’s looking at me, so I better continue. ‘We criticise you because you are greedy and dishonest! You let others do all the work, find all the food – while you feast on what they bring back!’

  I can hear murmurs of agreement all around me, and I’m not done yet.

  ‘You might not have noticed, but we’ve all been rather hungry lately, since those cats came along. Perhaps you forgot to mention your secret store of gourmet grub, or maybe you just don’t like to share!’

  ‘How dare you!!’ explodes the Big Cheese. ‘I demand respect!’

  There it is again, the sudden absence of gangster-speak. I point my most accusing finger.

  ‘You, sir, are a fraud! You’re not even a gangster, are you?’

  The Big Cheese folds his arms. ‘I’ll have you know that I led the rodent invasions of three luxury hotels. But you can’t go on avoiding those dratted pest controllers forever, you know. And so I was forced to seek out fine cuisine wherever I could get it. Play the part of a dim-witted bully to rise to the top of this lot. Do you think I live in this dirty sewer by choice?’

  The others look offended. Come to think of it, I should be offended too: I did choose to live here.

  ‘It’s a perfectly nice sewer,’ I say.

  Everyone turns to stare at me – approvingly. All except the Big Cheese, of course, who clearly wishes he could run me over with his roller skate, and Vinny, who I guess had all of this under control till I opened my big mouth and took over.

  Suddenly, the Big Cheese begins laughing crazily. ‘You’ll never overthrow me!’ he squeaks. ‘I’m untouchable! I’m unbeatable! I’m too darn big! Haha!’

  Tina rushes past me … and begins trying to tip over the Big Cheese’s skate.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he demands.

  In an instant, the three rats standing closest have rushed to assist Tina. Together, they heave the skate on to its edge. The Big Cheese lands on the floor with a heavy thud and a sour face.

  ‘Dirty rats,’ he whimpers.

  29

  The Crowd-pleaser

  We stand quietly as the Big-Cheese-No-More exits the sewer. The squeaking of the wheels on his roller skate as it rumbles through the pipe fades gradually, along with his mutterings about the unfairness of it all. Two of the rats have sneaked out behind him, just to make sure he actually leaves.

  Finally, there is silence – save a crunching here and a munching there, as more than a few of the gang help themselves to the shelf-loads of goodies.

  ‘All right then,’ someone says, ‘what happens next?’

  ‘We ’ave to find us a new leader, of course!’

  ‘And fast!’

  ‘Well you needn’t look far.’ Vinny strides to the front of the group. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious who the next Big Cheese should be. I’ve practically been runnin’ the show anyhow, ever since we went arms tradin’ with the magpies.’

  ‘Yeah, and look how that turned out!’
yells a small rat.

  ‘It was the ’amster who saved the day that time!’ cries someone else.

  ‘It was the ’amster’s fault we got into that mess,’ shouts Vinny, his eyes glowing, ‘with his nonsense about the foxes selling their patch to some posh Siamese alley cats! And speaking of the foxes, well, they didn’t like that rumour very much, now, did they? Nearly got us all killed, so he did!’

  ‘But it was Rocco who found out the cats really was comin’. Got it right that time round.’

  ‘And he got the cheese out Claude’s mousetrap and lived.’

  ‘And don’t forget he can knock folks out with bicycles.’

  The small room is filled with chattering voices.

  ‘There’s only one way to sort this out,’ says a tall rat near the front of the crowd. ‘Whoever beats the alley cats becomes the new Big Cheese! Tell us, Vinny: what’s your plan for kickin’ out the kitties?’

  All eyes turn to Vinny. He clears his throat and fidgets with his long fingers.

  ‘Ah … well I’m workin’ on that, we’re all workin’ on that, ain’t we? … If we all gets our heads together …’

  There are unhappy mutterings. Now the tall rat is looking at me.

  ‘And what about you, Rocco? What’s your plan?’

  I can feel Vinny’s glare drilling through me.

  ‘Well … the thing is … I don’t really make plans, you see. I’ve found that I’m not much good at them. Usually I just throw myself into the fray, have a flash of inspiration and come out victorious.’ As I’m saying all of this, I can feel a change coming over me: something bright and hopeful, washing away the doubt. ‘And yes, it’s also true that I’ve had a few mishaps. But I suppose no one ever achieved greatness without a mistake or two along the way, did they? And when you think about it, maybe it’s learning from your mistakes that makes a truly great leader … Someone who doesn’t give up when things go wrong, but who grows, and becomes wiser, and better?’

  Everyone is looking at me in silence. ‘That’s all I can say, really,’ I add – and suddenly the room is buzzing, filled with cheering and clapping and whoops of excitement that can only be Tina’s.