Four delightful stories following the adventures of intrepid mice living in secret within the tunnels and stations of the London Underground.
Read about Mitzie who opens up the old ways and District Dodie who interrupts the Wimbledon men’s singles final, or Joe who saves the day and Cinnabar who saves Christmas.
For good readers aged 9-12 and adults not scared of mice.
Age Range: 9-12
Size: 198 × 129mm
Format: Paperback Original
RRP: UK £5.99
1. Piccadilly Mitzie
2. Jubilee Joe
3. Circle Cinnabar
4. District Dodie
Their world was full of wonders, exactly like he had seen in his dream vision.
They got to their paws and looked around for the nearest dark corner. Once there, they peered into the Tunnellers’ Heaven, known to Tunnellers themselves as the ticket hall.
There was something in the air which made their little noses twitch. Some way beyond them, fascinating and mysterious, loomed a blackness that was neither tunnel nor mouseway. It was a hole in the world through which they felt rather than saw the shadows of the Tunnellers’ Realm. From it there blew a cold, damp air the like of which they had never breathed. Both were awestruck.
“Is that their heaven?” asked Turnip.
“Maybe,” said Boswell, “and if it is, then maybe that’s an angel!”
He pointed to a Tunneller sweeping the floor of the ticket hall looking rather more grumpy than angelic.
“Come on,” said Boswell. “We must go down.”
“Down!” said Turnip. “Aren’t we here forever?” He’d given up on the idea of a return journey.
They’d built a series of strange objects using Tunneller scraps. Some you climbed on, some you crawled under, some you jumped over and some you hung on. Dozens of pups were playing on them, having the time of their lives. At first it made no sense to the St. John’s Wood mice, and even after staring at it, they couldn’t quite understand. Somehow, the Marylebone mice were copying ideas from the Tunnellers – their pictures and their words. It looked positively weird.
Cinnabar and Tiffani had to take all this in at once, a mouse that could neither speak nor hear, a ‘fearful’ description of the world and the very mouse they had come to see, the mouse called Shadow. It wasn’t easy. Shadow stood, and the others around her, too, and each of them was taller than her. Even Tootle might have been a little bigger than this mouse who was clearly no longer a pup, but still no giant. She was petite, yet in that petite size was a concentrated energy. Her eyes, like the eyes of the other five Nightworlders, glittered, not all of it with goodness. Cinnabar felt that the eyes of these mice held ancient emotions, maybe ancient angers, mixed with present passions. They were deep mice.
Book launch held at the Drill Hall, Lincoln, 2011 with students from St. Francis Special School.