Mad Dog Moonlight by Pauline Fisk Page A

bright, it seemed, then simply disappeared. They came into your life and then went again, and there was nothing you could do but stand by and watch. Mad Dog’s parents, for example, and now the sailors.
    Ever afterwards, there was something about those sailors that wouldn’t let Mad Dog go. He mightn’t know their names or anything else about them, but they’d come bursting into his life bringing stories of other places far away – of other worlds, and other ways of looking at the world. And even years after they’d gone, Mad Dog dreamt about their wide horizons and journeys without ending, and imagined himself a sailor just like them, travelling across seas that might be cruel but could never subdue him, meeting mermaids, discovering lost continents, chasing dolphins and cruising across silver seas. The rest of his life was dominated by mundane things like school and lessons and routine. But at least, as he grew up, he had other things to dream about.
    He was growing bigger all the time, and so was Elvis, who’d turned into a tough but friendly little lad, coming home from playing with his friends with scraped knees and glorious tales of fights. Mad Dog was proud of him. Aunty wasn’t so impressed, but he reckoned he could see his brother’s Trojan blood coming out in him. Nothing more was said aboutadoption, not since the day they’d sworn on the Bible, but neither was there any mention of leaving the Gap.
    No. 3 was their home, and Aunty and Uncle were their parents in all but name. The past was set aside as if it had never been. The
ffon
languished in the wardrobe, its secret message forgotten. Mad Dog was embarrassed about those old days when he’d talked to his walking cane as if it was a person. Only five-year-olds did things like that. And besides, he didn’t need secrets to feel like a person who mattered. He didn’t even need parents. Life was fine the way it was.
    And it remained fine too, until one February morning, the beginning of half-term week, when Mad Dog came downstairs to find Aunty on the phone and everything about to change. In total ignorance of what was happening, he went out to play on the barge den, only to come back later and find Aunty and her sisters huddled in the kitchen. Their heads were knit together and their voices were raised as one in indignation – which meant there could be only one person they were talking about.
    The Aged Relative.
    Mad Dog didn’t know exactly who the Aged Relative was, and he didn’t care if he never found out. He’d only spoken to her once, and that had been enough, picking up the phone when no one was about, only for a cold voice to bark at him, ‘I don’t want
you
. God, what’s wrong with the world? Why are children allowed to answer phones? I want to talk to your aunt.’
    Sometimes Aunty or one of her sisters would visit the Aged Relative, going with long faces and coming back with even longer ones. At times like Christmasthere’d be discussions about having her to stay but, despite their best-laid plans, she’d either refuse to come or pull out at the last minute. Now some sort of crisis seemed to be taking place, because Luke’s mum was saying, ‘It’s always the same,’ and Hippie’s mum was saying, ‘When
we
need help, she’s never there for
us
,’ and Rhys’s mum was telling Aunty, wagging her finger as she did so, ‘You leave well alone. If she’s got into a mess, it’ll be of her own making. However much you do for her, it’ll never be enough. But she tries it on with you because she thinks you’re a soft touch.’
    Unfortunately for Mad Dog, the advice wasn’t taken. Aunty flared up at the suggestion that she was a soft touch and said that her sisters weren’t being fair, either to her or the Aged Relative who – just this once – appeared to have a genuine grievance. Her sisters snorted and