It was war. Gordon Parker was armed, prowling through the undergrowth, scanning for his target. The wind rustled overhead, dancing across the back of his neck. Any moment now, he would find what he was hunting and attack.
A voice broke through his concentration.
‘Have you got them yet?’
Gordon glared at his sister, gesturing for her to be quiet. June rolled her eyes and sat on the grass, opening a book, no longer interested in her brother. Somewhere above him, a kookaburra chortled, the gum trees sending leaves to the grass below.
There was a giggle.
Gordon stepped forward, feet soft. The sound came from the blackberry bushes. He couldn’t see through the foliage but his target had finally revealed itself.
Gordon raised his weapon, readying for battle.
A roar, and the bush split apart as Gordon’s prey launched at him. There was no time to react, his weapon – a tree branch posing as a gun – skittering aside as he was tackled by four of his younger siblings.
There were nine Parkers in all: Venn and Harry, plus their seven kids. June was the eldest, thirteen months older than Gordon, something she took great delight in. After Gordon was Donald, a year and a half younger, currently tugging at Gordon’s right arm, trying to pull him to the ground. Jeanette was the fourth, sharp and observant, watching the fight in front of her and waiting for her moment. Then came his brother, Robin, thirteen years old, quiet, with cheeky eyes, too busy laughing to make use of the ambush, and a few years younger was Jennifer, raining gentle but considered blows on Gordon’s stomach. It had seemed like the family was complete, until Jim arrived three years earlier, a surprise wartime baby…
Leave a Reply