Rosemary Wilkie

Chapter 1

Tom's Dad didn't like drivers wearing hats. He said they crept along with twenty cars behind them, indicating left and turning right, or going the wrong way down a one-way street. But the worst ones come out of side roads without stopping.

That's what happened to Dad and Tom on their way home from the hospital where Mum had just had Tom's new sister. She was ever so small, just a reddish blob with a screwed up face. She didn't move or say anything. Mum and Dad were holding hands, all googly-goo, and forgot to choose a name for the baby, so Tom called her Blob.

The other car struck them on Dad's side with a horrid crump. Something hit Tom's head and his arm hurt. Suddenly he was outside on the grass verge, feeling much better and jumping up and down like a man on the moon. The cars were jammed together and people were running to help. Dad was still in their car and looked as if he had fallen asleep. Well, they had got up early, considering it was the beginning of the school holidays and Dad wasn't going to work until Mum came home.

Lots of sirens, really loud, and blue lights flashing. Their car was surrounded by men in yellow jackets. Two of them carried Dad into the ambulance.

Tom called out, "Hey, wait for me!" but no one took any notice.

A boy appeared from nowhere and put his arm round Tom's shoulder. Tom felt happy just looking at him, he was so light and shimmery. "What's your name?" Tom said.

"Mike, I'm your...."

"Who? "

Then Tom woke up in hospital with a bandage round his head and a big bruise on his arm. The doctor said they were short of beds and Tom was well enough to go home, but his Dad had a broken leg and something called concussion. A nurse took Tom to see him, but he was asleep.

As Mum and Dad had to stay in hospital, there was no one at home to look after Tom. So Mum rang Grandma, who came all the way from her house near the sea. Meanwhile Tom had to hang around the baby ward. He was an active, wiry boy with freckles and unruly brown hair. The nurses smiled to cheer him up as they rushed past, but Mum was sleepy and there was nothing to do. Really boring.

At last Grandma arrived. She was plump and had long grey hair wound up on her head. She gave Tom a hug and took a quick look at Blob, then sat patiently while Mum wrote a long list of instructions telling her what to do with Tom. Grandma dropped the list in a bin on the way out.

At Tom's house Grandma peeped underneath his bandage. She spread arnica cream on his arm and let him put everything he wanted in her car. As soon as they were out of town, she bought him a super meal of curry, chips and beans, with pancakes, ice-cream and hot chocolate to follow.

Before they drove on, she made room for Tom to lie down on the back seat. It was comfy with cushions and a blanket, and he fell asleep. He woke up as they drove into her garage and they went straight into the house through an inside door. It was a muddle. Computers, newspapers and wodges of knitting everywhere.

Grandma stood with her arms full of toys in the doorway of the guest room. It was nearly full with one big bed and a small one. "No room for your trains here," she said. "I'll put you in the attic."

The attic had been changed since Tom's last visit. It was great. A little window at each end, a shiny wooden floor and a folding bed.

"It was to be an office for my knitting business," said Grandma, "but there were too many stairs."

Tom was glad. Lots of space, all to himself! They took everything up, including his white mice in their cage. He fetched water for them from the bathroom on the floor below.

Grandma produced tomato soup and cheese sandwiches for supper, then put more stuff on his arm.

"Bedtime," she said, giving him a kiss. "Sleep well. "

* * * *

Tom wasn't tired, so he made a layout for his train using every single rail and lined up his cars for a car park by the station. When it got dark he lay down, thinking of Dad, Mum and Blob. He hoped they could all go home soon.

The moon rose and shone on his face. He got up and looked out of the windows. There wasn't much to see. A garden at the front, then the village green all silvery, with houses beyond. At the back was more garden, and trees hiding the fields that went all the way to the sea.

Tom felt peckish so he crept downstairs into the kitchen and found the bikky jar. He went outside and sat on the step, thinking about the day. He remembered the shiny boy at the accident. What was his name? Mike.

Suddenly Tom heard a man's voice behind the tall hedge that ran from the road to the far end of Grandma's garden, dividing it from the long drive to a big house.

"Who lives there?" the man said.

"Jus' an old woman. Knits all the time. Plays loud music. Probably deaf," said another voice.

"She could see up the drive from the windows."

"Nah. No winders on the side of the 'ouse. Look, it's all creeper."

"There might be someone there with her." Tom's heart began to thump.

"Nah. I saw 'er come 'ome this evening. She was alone. There's a daughter comes and goes but she don't live 'ere."

"I still don't like it, Bill."

"Yer'll worry yerself ill, Dave! It's quite safe, I tell yer."

When they had gone Tom went indoors and got some more chokky bikkies while he thought about it. At least they didn't know he was there! But who were Bill and Dave and why didn't they want anyone looking up the drive? Tom looked for Furry, his bear, and took him back to bed. Tom heard some rumbling like thunder, and hugged Furry in case he was frightened.