The Big Book of Old Tom Page 2

  The view was spectacular.

  But, inside, the danger light was flashing.

  Old Tom was off course … and overloaded.

  Angela was angry.

  She had work to do at home,

  and now she was off…

  to outer space.

  Old Tom wrestled with the controls.

  Angela was no help at all.

  They hurtled towards Mars

  as Angela served afternoon tea.

  ‘We re here!’ she shrieked.

  Angela was excited too.

  Old Tom prepared for landing.

  He wanted to make a good impression.

  He put on the brakes,

  and disengaged the thruster.

  His arrival caused a sensation.

  Old Tom wanted to make new friends,

  but the Martians wouldn’t play.

  ‘This doesn’t look like Mars to me!’ cried Angela Throgmorton.

  It had been a long, long trip …

  and Angela was a wreck.

  Old Tom’s adventure was over.

  Angela’s too.

  She was glad to be home.

  ‘There’ll be no more trips to Mars for us,’ said Angela Throgmorton.

  While she settled back into life on earth,

  Old Tom stayed in his room and sulked.

  Only one thing could cheer him up.

  And it arrived early the next morning.

  Old Tom had promised to be good.

  ‘Let’s hope it lasts!’ said Angela Throgmorton.

  ‘I’m tired of the same old faces at my garden parties,’ said the Queen with a sigh.

  ‘Why not pick a name from the telephone book, Your Majesty?’ suggested Sir Tassel Windburn, her able secretary

  ‘Splendid,’ said the Queen.

  Soon the royal finger stopped at a surname beginning with ‘T

  And so, when Old Tom went to collect the mail one day,

  there was a fancy-looking letter, for Angela Throgmorton.

  She was enjoying a well-earned rest, having cleaned the house from top to bottom.

  But this was a letter that couldn’t wait.

  A royal invitation for two, for afternoon tea.

  Angela knew the Queen was fussy about good manners. So she dressed up and wrote back straight away.

  Angela had done her best to bring Old Tom up nicely.

  He often happily helped around the house,

  and sometimes did two chores at once.

  But now that he was to meet the Queen,

  Old Tom needed extra instruction in how to be good.

  Angela invited a friend for tea.

  ‘Pretend it’s the Queen and practise your manners,’ she said.

  Old Tom had learnt from his lessons that a nice smile is always handy.

  He was eager to please and keen to be good.

  So, when Angela’s guest felt a little unwell, kind Old Tom kept an eye on her.

  Meanwhile, Angela went on with her eating instructions. ‘If offered cake,’ she said, ‘say yes please, and thank you, and don’t drop your crumbs.’

  There was a lot to remember, but Old Tom was pleased with his progress.

  Though Angela felt there was still work to be done.

  In fact, Angela was desperate.

  But time had run out and Old Tom was as good as he was going to get.

  So Angela and Old Tom packed their bags and off they went.

  Angela was excited …

  and so was Old Tom.

  After his journey, Old Tom was tired.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before,’ said the passport man.

  At the hotel,

  Angela explained that she was on a royal visit.

  Then, in the evening, Old Tom and Angela practised their curtsies and bows.

  Angela put on some gloves and pretended to be the Queen.

  ‘Kiss my hand,’ she said.

  In the morning, Angela got up bright and early. Old Tom had to have a bath …

  and she was needed to remove difficult oily patches.

  This was a big day, and Old Tom planned to look especially beautiful.

  So, all morning, he combed and brushed and fussed and even had his nails done.

  When the arrival of lunch stopped him cleaning his teeth,

  he still remembered his manners, and gave a big smile.

  Luckily, Old Tom s good looks hadn’t gone to his head.

  Angela, too, had spent hours getting ready.

  Now it was time for afternoon tea.

  So Old Tom and Angela caught a bus to the palace.

  When they arrived, Angela whispered, ‘Now, remember your lessons and you’ll blend in quite nicely.’

  Angela had expected only three for tea.

  But she was polite and hid her disappointment.

  Old Tom was on his best behaviour,

  while Angela began to introduce herself and make polite conversation.

  ‘Angela Throgmorton’s my name,’ she said, ‘and I’m here to meet the Queen.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ replied Sir Cecil Snootypants.

  At first, Old Tom was a little shy.

  But soon he relaxed and made himself comfortable.

  Angela kept an eye on things and whispered helpful hints when no one was looking.

  Old Tom remembered to look people straight in the eye and make them feel special.

  Then he had a rest from being good and made himself a sandwich.

  Being good had certainly improved his appetite.

  Old Tom made friends quickly and even found a favourite.

  He was careful, of course, to leave room for dessert.

  Meanwhile, Angela was having a lovely time.

  ‘What an unusual hat!’ mumbled Boswell Croswell.

  ‘I’m glad you like it,’ was her gracious reply.

  The afternoon-tea party was now in full swing.

  ‘I hear the Queen has been delayed,’ said Lady Arabella Volcano to her husband Horace.

  While chatting to Sir Basil Bossy and his charming wife Babette, Angela noticed that Old Tom had gone.

  She excused herself and began to search. Angela tried to tempt Old Tom out with a fresh chicken leg.

  Angela described Old Tom to everyone she met.

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ cried Sir Bertie Boodle.

  ‘Good gracious!’ shrieked Lady Winifred Pineapple De Groote and her husband Sir Ernest.

  ‘It can’t be human!’ cried Clarissa Cul-de-Sac just before she fainted.

  Angela had mislaid Old Tom, and wanted him back before the royal host arrived.

  ‘By the way, where is the Queen?’ asked Sir Dalvin Dooper.

  Suddenly there was silence, apart from a tiny shriek from Lady Pineapple.

  Her Majesty had arrived at last …

  and she had company.

  Angela was thrilled to see Old Tom and nearly forgot her manners.

  But not for long, of course.

  ‘So you are my other special guest! I’ve already met Old Tom,’ said the Queen.

  ‘And what jolly fun we’ve had!’

  Her Majesty insisted that they stay the night.

  After dinner there was a royal tour.

  ‘That’s my throne,’ said the Queen.

  And then it was time for bed.

  The comfort of her guests was most important. So that…

  … at breakfast, even if the Queen had seen Old Tom’s little mistake, she was too polite to comment.

  Soon it was time to say goodbye.

  The Queen had her royal duties and Angela had work to do around the house.

  As for Old Tom, he was happy with a kiss from Angela, his guide to being good.

  Life wasn’t always this good for Old Tom.

  These days he has a cosy warm bed on cold nights.

  And a cool swimming pool on hot days.

  Whenever Old Toni is out late, someone stays awake and worries about him.

&n
bsp; And if he sleeps in or feels a little unwell, someone brings him breakfast in bed.

  Of an evening, Old Tom likes to relax …

  before dinner is served by someone who loves him.

  Even if he forgets his manners, Old Tom knows that all will be forgiven

  and that someone will clean up after him.

  Angela Throgmorton likes her house neat.

  Which is why a visit to Old Tom’s room often comes as a horrible …

  surprise!

  Life would be easier for Angela if she had a little help around the house.

  But her little helper never seems to be around when she needs him.

  Of course, Angela is used to this by now.

  She knows that when the work is nearly done, Old Tom may well turn up …

  somewhere unexpected.

  Angela has always tried her best to be strict.

  But she found out very early on

  just how hard it was to stay cross with Old Tom.

  There was a time long ago when Old Tom had no name or place to call home,

  and no warm, cosy bed on cold nights.

  He was too hot in summer

  and too cold in winter.

  He gasped in autumn

  and sneezed and wheezed through spring.

  He had no one at all to protect him.

  There was no relaxing before dinner.

  In fact, there was often no dinner at all.

  Maybe just a nibble now and then.

  But that was never enough.

  What he needed most were warm and gentle arms around him.

  He did his best to put on a happy face.

  But that never seemed to help.

  He was all alone.

  Not far away lived a woman called Angela Throgmorton.

  Angela was always busy.

  There was much to do around the house.

  She had a spare room. It was all spick and span.

  At the end of each day, when her housework was done,

  Angela cooked a meal …

  just for one.

  Once a week Angela Throgmorton met her friend Lavinia for afternoon tea.

  On this particular day just as she left home,

  someone found a very pleasant place to take a nap.

  Angela didn’t stop to find out why a crowd had gathered.

  She had other things on her mind.

  She knew, as usual, Lavinia would have lots to report about her wonderfully busy family life.

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Lavinia. ‘Living alone must be divine. No one to care for. No one to clean up after …’

  One hour later, Lavinia was still talking.

  ‘And of course, no one to have to cook for.’

  Angela did her best to put on a happy face.

  But it didn’t help.

  Because she knew that tonight …

  like every other night,

  it would be …

  dinner for one. Again.

  But at least she had dinner.

  Outside, someone knew what he was looking for.

  While inside, Angela knew what she was missing.

  Someone had a feeling he knew where he belonged.

  Now all he had to do was get there.

  Later that night there was a tap! tap! tap! on Angela s window. But she didn’t hear it.

  Later still, there was a knock! knock! knock! on Angela’s front door …

  but she didn’t hear that either.

  So someone made himself as comfortable as he could and settled down for the night.

  In the morning, Angela had the strangest feeling that she wasn’t alone. However, there was work to be done so she thought little of it.

  There were dishes to do,

  teapots to polish,

  a garden gnome to look after …

  and of course the spare room always had to have its daily dust.

  Today Angela was grateful for her household chores.

  With so much to keep her busy, her troubles were soon forgotten.

  In fact, she almost began to cheer up.

  Then, while doing some light dusting, Angela heard a knock at the front door.

  There on her doorstep was a baby monster.

  Angela carried him in. She named him ‘Old Tom’.

  That was a long time ago, and now Old Tom has almost grown up.

  But living with Old Tom hasn’t always been easy for Angela Throgmorton …

  or for the neighbours either.

  Early on, Angela thought school might help Old Tom learn to fit in.

  He certainly made an impression.

  But it wasn’t the right one.

  And so Old Tom’s first day at school was also his last.

  Things hadn’t turned out quite as Angela had hoped. She would have to bring up Old Tom all on her own.

  Back at home they had a heart-to-heart chat.

  Old Tom seemed keen to be good.

  In fact, he appeared eager to improve in all ways.

  So they had tea and cake to celebrate.

  Though they may have begun celebrations a little too early

  Sure enough, every now and then Old Tom

  needed a gentle reminder about how to be good.

  And Angela often had to stand guard outside his bedroom to make sure he cleaned up.

  It seemed Angela’s work was never quite done.

  These days, though, it’s not all work for Angela Throgmorton.

  She still meets Lavinia for afternoon tea.

  But now someone has her own busy life to chat about. What’s more, she can’t stay for long.

  Angela Throgmorton is eager to get home.

  After all, there’s a meal to prepare, and it’s dinner for two …

  followed by a little bedtime story.

  Every night, just before he falls asleep, a certain someone thinks how lucky he is …

  and so does Angela Throgmorton.

  A word from the author

  I don’t particularly dislike cats; it’s just that I am allergic to them. In any case, I am most definitely a dog person. And Old Tom is more like an Australian cattle dog, or blue heeler, perhaps with a touch of Tasmanian devil, than he is a cat. Well, in my mind, anyhow.

  In November 1992, I kissed a large envelope goodbye as I dropped it into a post box. The envelope was addressed to the senior editor at Penguin Children’s Books, and it contained a short letter introducing myself and a furry, orange one-eyed feline monster called Old Tom.

  Already rejected by a number of publishing houses, I was beginning to feel like Old Tom. And so I had decided that this was going to be my last attempt. In fact, somewhere I recall writing in large letters: ‘Posted letter today. Forget it.’

  Within a week, I had received a reply from the senior editor I’d written to, who said that she loved Old Tom and thought we should meet.

  I was thrilled. Old Tom, it seemed, had found a home at last!

  LEIGH HOBBS

  A note from the editor

  In 1992 I was a senior editor at Penguin Books in the children’s publishing department. One day a large envelope arrived. In it was a picture book dummy, with the words ‘OLD TOM’ on the cover accompanied by a loose, dynamic and hilarious illustration of a large, dishevelled cat holding the skeleton of a fish.

  It was love at first sight! I was captivated by the expressiveness of Leigh Hobbs’ character — in just a few pen-and-ink lines he had conveyed the most complex emotions. As I turned the pages, I experienced a telltale shiver up my spine, which meant that I was looking at the real thing: that Old Tom had to be published.