Page 5 of Box of Frogs
Cursing to myself, I doubled back to accost the nearest passerby for their mobile phone so I could call an ambulance. With that accomplished, I went back to wait with him until the paramedics arrived, pouting the entire time. This simply wasn’t fair.
Chapter Three
I tried my level best to accompany the homeless guy to hospital but the paramedics were having none of it. They shooed me away before taking off with lights blazing and sirens blaring. I glared after the ambulance, as if dirty looks might encourage it to return, before I eventually stomped off to see if Mr Clumsy had any friends who might also know about ‘my lot’. Unfortunately, even though I came across several more homeless men and women, none of them seemed to possess his vital knowledge. On the plus side, they were a darned sight friendlier than he had been, pointing out which streets I would do well to avoid as a solitary, weak female.
I offered my thanks in the form of the Queen’s head and then made a beeline directly for the supposed danger zones. It was still only afternoon but I was hoping that I could make myself look like a target tempting enough for someone to attack. That way, even if I accomplished nothing else, I’d have an opportunity to see what else I was capable of. It wasn’t a great plan – but it was a plan.
The supposedly dangerous streets weren’t quite as seedy as I’d hoped for. Sure, there were some boarded-up windows and the odd dodgy-looking character wandering past with a shifty glint in their eye, but I walked up and down for the better part of an hour and not a single soul tried to mug me. I didn’t even get a creepy catcall from the builders who were bricklaying round an old, decrepit cemetery. The more time passed, the more frustrated I became. Clearly patience wasn’t my strong suit.
An elderly man, hunched over a gnarled walking stick, paused at the traffic lights not too far from me. I raced over, more than ready to offer my services to help him get across. After all, being heroic didn’t just mean grand, life-saving gestures. He didn’t so much as glance as at me when I reached him.
He started ambling across the road in a lopsided shuffle. ‘Here,’ I said, darting round to his side and offering my arm. ‘I’ll help.’
He raised his head with ponderous slowness and gave me a slitted glare. ‘Piss off.’
Somewhat taken aback, I blinked at him. ‘There’s no shame in accepting help when you need it.’
‘Well,’ he snapped, ‘I don’t need help. There’s no shame in ignoring plonkers like you, either.’
Deflated, I stepped away. He continued his shuffle, eventually reaching the other side of the road. He half-turned, realised I was still watching him and raised his middle finger in my direction. I huffed. Cantankerous old arsebadger.
Abandoning him to his fate, I headed to my right. There was a sex shop down this road and enough litter to create a small bonfire. While I waited for someone who wanted my help to appear, I started scooping up the crisp packets and discarded bottles, throwing them into an empty plastic bag I’d spotted curled round a lamppost.
The bag was almost full when I heard a small, plaintive meow. I brightened immediately and scanned up and down the street. I was just as willing to come to the aid of animals as humans.
The cat was on top of a roof nearby and peering down at me. It meowed some more, baleful yellow eyes fixed on me. Its fur was sleek and looked clean; all the same, it was obviously stuck and needed rescuing. I regarded it thoughtfully for a moment, trying to work out the best approach. Maybe one of my super powers was flight. I grinned. That would be fun.
Punching the air with one hand, I jumped upwards, willing myself to soar towards the cat. All that happened was that I fell down and jarred my knee. I braced my hand against the cold pavement to stop myself falling flat on my face and felt a shot of pain through my finger again. Ouchy.
Brushing myself off, I stood up. The cat gazed down at me and meowed once more. ‘Don’t worry, kitty,’ I called. ‘I might not be able to fly but I’m not defeated. I will rescue you, I promise.’
I backed up a foot. Handily, there was a red postbox right in front of the house. I clambered on top of it, swaying dangerously before I caught my balance. It was about two metres’ leap from here to the edge of the roof. That was do-able, I decided, because even if I didn’t have the power of flight I was still the mighty Madhatter.
Sucking air into my lungs, I braced myself for the jump. One. Two. Three. I threw myself forward, arms outstretched, but even with my best effort I only just managed to grab hold of the edge of the roof with one hand. I hung there for a moment, dangling uselessly. Then with a burst of strength and energy, I flung my other hand upwards and grabbed on so I could pull myself up. At least, that was the theory anyway; no matter how hard I tried, I didn’t have the strength to yank myself up. Well, that sucked.
‘Whatcha doing?’
I almost lost my grip entirely when I heard the voice. From somewhere underneath me and to my right, a small towheaded child was looking up at me with a fixed, curious expression.
‘Cat rescue,’ I muttered, trying to swing my left leg upwards in a pathetic bid to hook it over the edge of the roof.
‘What cat?’
‘The…’ I began, before I was interrupted.
‘D’ya mean this cat?’
I looked at the ground again and realised that the damned feline had already jumped down of its own accord. It sat next to the boy, blithely unconcerned, with the same vaguely curious expression on its face as he had.
‘Gasbudlikins!’ I exploded, dropping down to the pavement and spinning round. The cat meowed one final time and took off, sauntering down the road away from both of us.
‘Do you need help?’ I asked desperately. ‘Saving from some bullies? Help with your homework? Anything?’
The boy frowned, his brow creasing. ‘Actually,’ he said, while I started to smile hopefully, ‘nah. Fanks, though.’ He tripped away after the cat without a backward glance.
My shoulders sank. So much for being a damned superhero. Nobody seemed to want my help. All I’d learned about myself was that I couldn’t fly and that my biceps were weedier than an average IT technician’s. And my darn finger was even more sore than before. What a waste of sodding time.
I shook myself off and set off in the direction of the Travotel. I’d just have to try again later when it was dark. Besides, I needed to get some supplies.
