Free Monkey and Me by David Gilman Page B

modern, nothing like a film star’s name, but it just felt right. “Thank you, Malcolm, for showing me how not to be scared.”
    Malcolm Monkey just rubbed his head, scratched his bum and curled up next to me. He was warm, smelly and hairy – and I loved him.
    â€œUh!” I gasped. Malcolm had jumped off me and was beating the floor. I thought I’d been dreaming but there was the banana skin and the apple core and the comics. It was almost dark so I must have slept for a couple of hours, but Malcolm was frightened about something and ran off.
    â€œMalcolm!” But he just ignored me.
    I went after him and saw him scurrying up the stairs towards the bedroom. By the time I got there I was wheezing and I saw this lump under the cushions and curtains squirming. He was hiding from something, but what?
    I climbed up on top of the bedstead and peepedout the window. I could just see a splash of blue and yellow through the trees. It was a police car. I squashed my face against the window pane so I could see further and there was a white van parked just next to it.
    I got a shock. There were three men walking down the track. Two were policeman and the other was an RSPCA inspector. One of them looked up and I fell back in fright. I landed on the bed and heard Malcolm screech. I burrowed under the covers and put my hand on his head and a finger to my lips. “Shush,” I whispered. “There are people outside and they must be looking for you.”
    He burrowed deeper and I covered him with another piece of old lace curtain, then I climbed back up and peeped out the window again. I held my breath and tried to hear what the men were saying. I caught a few words: “No sign of entry in here… boarded up… ready to fall down… death-trap… not going in there, mate…’
    I watched as they walked back into the trees. Malcolm must be a fugitive, wanted by the police. Why? What had he done? Or were they hunting him because he had escaped from somewhere?
    I heard a car door slam and the engine start up. I listened so hard I thought my eardrums were going to pop, but I couldn’t hear anything else. Maybe it was a trap. You know when the bad guys pretend to have left and the good guys come out but there are other bad guys waiting to snatch them? Watching films and reading books teaches you a lot about how horrible people behave. I waited a few minutes, but I still couldn’t hear anything, so I decided to tiptoe out the room.
    I got about halfway down the stairs along the creaking floorboards when I heard something. Someone was whispering. And there was a flash of light from a torch in the downstairs hall. I froze. My stomach felt as though I had swallowed a bucket of ice. The light jigged around and whispers were smothered by the old house as if I had cotton wool in my ears. I turned around and crept on all fours up the stairs to spread my weight and stop the floorboards from creaking. When I got to the upstairs corridor I walked as quickly as I could, went into the bedroom and closed the door, which did creak! My heart jumped. I clambered into bed and under the covers with Malcolm.
    It was almost dark so I could barely see his face, but I could feel him trembling with fear – or was that just my hand shaking as I reached out to comfort him?
    The muffled voices wafted up the stairs from the hall below. I had lifted my beanie above my ears so I could listen. Then I heard a familiar voice:
    â€œOuch!”
    â€œShut up, Skimp!” another hissed.
    I scrambled out from under the covers and made my way to the stairs. It must be Mark and the gang. I was still quite nervous, you never know what kind of tricks bad people can play, but by the time I was halfway down the stairs I was sure who it was.
    â€œDon’t be an idiot. Get that light out my eyes!” said Rocky’s voice.
    â€œI’m here!” I called.
    There was the sound of feet scrambling and by the