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Hawkwood Books - Ellis Delmonte

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80 pages

English

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The second in the Tubemice series about mice adventures on the London Underground.

Informations

Publié par	Hawkwood Books
Date de parution	15 septembre 2017
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781908577672
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Table of Contents
Title Page
1 Rumour
2 Palaver
3 The Eyeseer
4 A Warning
5 Departure
6 Earthworld Music
7 Joe’s Dream
8 The Unsettled
9 Food for Thought
10 Spaces Within Spaces
11 Marylebone
12 Surface World
13 Song of Return
14 The Settled
15 Eyeseeing
16 Ratso The Third
17 The Song of Liberty
18 Jubilee Joe
Jubilee Joe

Jubilee Joe

Ellis J. Delmonte

Text copyright 2017 Ellis J. Delmonte
Cover copyright  Ian Purdy (2009 amended)
Main Illustrations copyright  7 Melanie Ortins
Edited by Eleanor Broadbent

First Published 2017
2 3 4 5

All rights reserved
E-PUB ISBN 978-1-908577-67-2
PRINT ISBN 978-1-908577-65-8
ISSN 2515-2858

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.

Conditions of Sale
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any means without the permission of the publisher.

Any reference to mice, living or dead,
is purely coincidental.

Hawkwood Books 2017

In memory of Sally Ann Lidgett

Tunneller Notes
Mice do not see very well. They use their sense of smell and touch much more than Tunnellers. However, they also have their own surprisingly rich way of communicating to each other about their world. Here are some common words with Tunneller translations:
Tubeworld
The London Underground
Goldworld
Circle Line
Oceanworld
Piccadilly Line
Emeraldworld
District Line
Skyworld
Victoria Line
Nightworld
Northern Line
Bloodworld
Central Line
Sunsetworld
Metropolitan Line
Sunriseworld
Hammersmith and City
Silverworld
Jubilee Line
Earthworld
Bakerloo Line
beast trails
rail lines
hometrail
below platform
beasts of burden
trains
Eyeseer
mouse who foretells danger
herding area
Tunneller platform
homehole
a station
nesthole
family nest
Palaver
mouse meeting
Paw Express
secret messenger route
pup
young mouse
Stairway to Heaven
Escalators
Surface World
Earth
Tunneller
human being
unimog
cleaning machine
way
mouse tunnels
1 Rumour
“ They’re coming!” shouted Joe, bursting with excitement. “It’s true, they’re on their way! I heard them! I…”
“Slow down, Joe,” said his father. “More haste, less cheese. Who is coming?”
“The Tunnellers, dad! Everyone’s saying so!”
Most dads were quiet and wise but Joe suspected that his particular dad was simply quiet. He never appeared to grasp news quickly and often put a damper on Joe’s enthusiasm. Not that St. John’s Wood was the most enthusiastic of homeholes. They were the respected but reserved mice of Tubeworld.
“This isn’t one of your rumours, is it Joe?” his father asked. “You know what you’re like.”
“I don’t think so, dad. I mean… Well…”
Poor Joe seemed uneasy with the news all of a sudden. Yes, he truly did know what he was like, seeing things others never saw and hearing things they never heard. It was hard to separate truth from dreams, sometimes. But this felt so real!
“There’s always talk of the Tunnellers coming again,” said Joe’s father. “Take it with a pinch of salt. They’ll leave us alone, you mark my words.”
Joe didn’t want to mark his father’s words. He wanted to see the Tunnellers in action, and he said so.
“No, you don’t,” replied his father, “with their beasts of burden so noisy and rumbustious, we’ll have no peace. They’ll deafen us or drive us out of our holes. We’ll be flustered and won’t know up from down. We’ve been settled here for many a year. We don’t need excitement of that sort, if it’s true.”
Joe wasn’t convinced.
“But they look after us, dad. They know we’re here and give us food. They make the tunnels we live in, they’re our friends.”
“They are not our friends,” said his father, severely. “They know we’re here alright, but we were here first, Joe, in the earth. We were happy enough as mice of the land before and we’ve carved out new lives since. But it was hard. Don’t you listen to the stories of how hard it was, Joe?”
He did, but they were just stories. This was real! Something new and wonderful, surely? Other mouseways would be opened up, they could make new friends, see new homeholes, it would be eye-opening, not dangerous, not if they were careful.
“Your great, great, great, great many times great grandfather saw the Tunnellers at work and told stories about the way they opened up the ground, Joe. I know that stories change over the telling but there was truth in the accounts. Others have told the same thing. They rip earth apart with giant claws, so big you cannot comprehend the size. It would scare a mouse to death to see one of them in action, and to be near one, well, that would be the end of all things.”
“Of all things, dad?”
“All things. It’s enough as it is with their roars and calamities now, but we’ve learned to live with that. There’s nothing to get excited about hoping for more roars and more calamities. Better to wish it isn’t true at all. Who told you, Joe, and who have you told?”
“No one. I mean everyone,” said Joe, confused by his father’s harsh words. “I saw Widow Trot first and told her. Now she’s telling everyone.”
“Ah,” said his father. “She would, wouldn’t she? Nothing she wants more than a little gossip. You should think before you speak, Joe. You know what you’re like.”
“Sorry dad,” said Joe, “but if it’s true, it’s important. She’s only saying what everyone else will say. We ought to get ready.”
“Hmm,” said his father. “I think we need a Palaver to clear this up.”
A Palaver was the most important meeting a mouse could call. It wasn’t done often. Joe’s father was a pillar of the mice community living at St. John’s Wood. He was thoughtful and reserved, all qualities the other mice came to rely on at times like this, and so they would listen. If Joe’s warning was true, there hadn’t been many times like this. This would be exceptional. Normally, big decisions involved cleaning rotas, scavenging, food distribution, scouting for rats, care for the young, care for the elderly, hole maintenance and other jobs that had gone on for countless lives, with or without the Tunnellers chopping up the world. This was not normal. This was possibly a world ending event and Joe’s father did not like his son getting excited about it as if it was a game he and his friends played to pass the time.
“Call a Palaver for the Quiet Time,” his father said. “Tell Widow Trot first. That will save time as she’ll tell half the others before you swish your tail. Then tell Matthias and Grodnik and Jebella. If things are as you say Joe, they’ll come.”
Joe, headed off, proud that his father had trusted him to announce the Palaver.
He skirted the mouse holes of his friends, tempted to go and share the news with them, but fighting temptation, dashing along to Widow Trot’s dusty old relic of a mouse hole.
“I told dad,” he said.
“And?”
Widow Trot’s voice was gravelly and serious.
“He’s called a Palaver.”
“Has he, indeed,” she replied. “For Quiet Time?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
Widow Trot did not answer but turned and whispered to a group of ancient mice who immediately hurried out, almost knocking Joe over. His dad was right. If he didn’t get a move on, there wouldn’t be anyone left to tell.
He hurried on to Matthias, an old grey who was busy contemplating the mysteries of a small lump of gorgonzola. Joe didn’t have a chance to open his mouth.
“You’ve come about the Palaver,” growled Matthias.
“Yes! But I was supposed to tell you, that!”
“News travels fast in the mouseways,” said Matthias. “Tell your father I’ll be there, though it’s a waste of time. The Tunnellers won’t be coming this way. You’re having one of your turns, little Joe.”
Joe was going to argue but thought better of it. Matthias was well known for his strict views on everything and wouldn’t change his mind until a Tunneller’s shovel came bashing down on his head. Come to think of it, all these elders were a bit like that.
When he reached the mouse hole of Jebella, he hesitated. Not only known for her stubbornness, she was also sharp tongued. A “Do Not Disturb” sign was scratched into some doorway dust. Joe was caught in two minds. To disturb or not to disturb, that was the question. Fortunately for him, Jebella appeared at the entrance. Unfortunately, she was in a foul mood.
“A Palaver!” she croaked.
Joe thought that there was really no point in him carrying this news around if everyone had heard it before he arrived.
“Dad said…”
“I know what your father said,” Jebella interrupted. “Tell him I’ll be there, even if the Tunnellers won’t. They finished with us years ago. They won’t be back, you mark my words.”
Joe realised that if he tried to live by all the words ever marked by older and wiser mice than he, he’d be a useless little lump, marked out of thinking for himself forever.
“Thank you,” said Joe, and hurried on to the mouse hole of ancient Grodnik, the most talkative mouse in history. This time, Joe hesitated not from fear of rejection but for fear of spending the rest of his life listening to a Grodnik story.
“Ah, Joe,” said Grodnik, nibbling a piece of West Country cheddar, “come to tell me of the Palaver.”
Joe sighed. Talk about a wasted journey.
The sigh was all that Grodnik needed to pin him to the spot.
“You can tell your dad that I’ll be there but also that it is unnecessary. We are as safe here as any mouse could be anywhere in Tubeworld. Our homehole is done and dusted and there is no reason for the Tunnellers to start messing with it.”
“Goodbye then,” Joe said, trying to get away.
“There would be signs,” said Grodnik, “and there are none. I’ll tell them this at the Palaver, even though they know it, because I would have seen them, Joe, I would have seen them and they know I would have seen them, all signs, any signs, from near and afar, and I’ve seen and heard nothing, from far or near, and if I hear nothing then there is nothing to be