Everyone Needs a Hero E-Book

Linda Lawrence

• Herausgeber: Grosvenor House Publishing
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 94

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The book 'Everyone Needs a Hero' comprises six adventure stories for children. Each story has different characters and a new hero emerges in each one. But the heroes are all brave, resourceful and clever animals. In the first story, we meet Maisie and her friend TimTom and their adventures take them to the National Gallery in London to rescue the head curator who has been kidnapped to force him to steal a painting. Other adventures arise on the way, but the two cats show resourcefulness and bravery on every turn of the page. In the second story, we are introduced to Rosy the Duck who lives a sad life, bullied by other ducks on the lake who make her life a misery. Read how one day Rosy helps a fellow creature and that good turn leads to a complete change in her life. Story three tells us about two green parakeets who take on some vicious thieves and save the life of a policeman, but at no small cost to themselves. Moving on to story four, we meet Reg the tortoise and Pickles the guinea pig. Reg is a bit arrogant and cares for no one but himself and his main thoughts are centred around his next meal, until one day he is dragged into an adventure by Pickles to try and save their family's house from being burgled. In story five, we meet Charlie of no fixed address. He has a solitary life until one day, he rescues some kittens who had been left to die in a bin. In this story, Charlie has to rescue the kittens yet again before his own life changes completely. The last story takes us to a farm to meet twins Peter and Paul Pig and their little brother Frank. They live a wonderful life on the farm until one day, they realise they were about to go to market, so they plan their escape with near disastrous consequences. The stories are packed full of delightful animal adventures with our heroes demonstrating some vital life values such as friendship, teamwork, ingenuity, resourcefulness, bravery and love. The book has 30 delightful colour illustrations to enhance the reader's experience.

Leseprobe

In memory of my parents, Jack and Joyce Bagwell.

Contents

Dedicaton

1 Maisie Jones

2 Rosy the Duck

3 Big Bessie and I Fly into Trouble

4  Reg’s and Pickles’ Adventure or is it really Pickles’ and Reg’s Adventure

5  Charlie of No Fixed Address

6 Peter, Paul and Frank

Copyright

STORY 1

Maisie Jones

CHAPTER 1

Introducing Maisie

I am sitting on top of a lamppost, which is my favourite place to sit because from here I can see my entire world. At number ten there’s Mrs Grey, who sometimes leaves me titbits, such as a little piece of fish or, occasionally, a tiny morsel of meat and I never mind if the meat is a bit fatty or gristly as it all tastes just as delicious to me. I don’t think kind Mrs Grey has very much to share to be honest, but it shows she really loves cats like me. Then at number twelve is Mr and Mrs Watson, who are always very busy as they don’t seem to find the time to leave me even a slither of food – in fact I don’t think they’ve even noticed I exist which I know seems unbelievable as I am such a beautiful specimen of cat hood…

I have to be very careful of the grumpy man at number fourteen, as he mumbles when he walks past me and even though I try to avoid his large boots I always seem to be in his way. Once he even went to kick me, but thankfully Mrs Grey shouted at him, and he thought better of it.

I can rely on the couple in number sixteen to leave me a saucer of fresh water every morning and, if I’m very lucky, occasionally they leave me a saucer of milk. It can take a whole three seconds to drink it as I want to savour every drop.

In number eighteen there is a young family and the two young girls who live there always stop to stroke me or tickle me under my chin which is so delightful as these days any affection is gratefully received. They do say such daft things to me though such as ‘here, kitty kitty’ when my name is Maisie or, ‘would you like a tickle-wickle?’ Don’t they know English? But then I mustn’t complain as their gentle attention to my furry coat and their warm comforting hands is so very much appreciated these long, lonely days on the streets.

So yes, by now you’ve realised I’m a feral cat but it wasn’t always the case. I lived at number twenty with Mr and Mrs Jones and their two children and I was so loved it was embarrassing at times. I always had the best food, with milk twice a day, and so much affection I was occasionally bored with it all. Now I realise how naïve I was to take it all for granted as one day the world was my oyster and the next I was alone and unloved. Even now I can’t tell you what happened. Not really. I’ve gone over it in my mind so many times, but I can’t fathom out how I ended up like this. I recall, so clearly, the morning it happened. The girls, Jenny and Sharon, left for school as normal and then about half an hour later Mr Jones took a call on his mobile. As the call ended he said something to Mrs Jones that I couldn’t catch but it must’ve been bad news because Mrs Jones looked frightened as Mr Jones then made a call himself – I think it must’ve been to Jenny and Sharon’s school because I heard the girls’ names mentioned. Mr Jones came off the phone, shaking his head at Mrs Jones and after that everything seemed to fall apart. With jerky movements Mr Jones gathered some bits together, put on his coat, kissed Mrs Jones goodbye – who was sobbing in earnest now – and quickly made for the front door. It was all very perplexing. I’m sure this is nothing to concern me, I thought to myself, but I was soon to learn that I was to be very much mistaken.

I followed Mr Jones out of the house, more out of curiosity than anything else and sat on the doormat watching as Mr Jones unlocked the car, got in and with unaccustomed speed backed out of the drive onto the road. He then turned and drove off, the wheels screeching as he disappeared around the corner. I turned to go back into the house, but the door was now closed, obviously by Mrs Jones. No worries, I thought to myself, I’ll go in through my usual window that’s always open, but to my surprise and annoyance, it was shut. This was weird. I kept looking, watching, checking but not a sound from the house. Nothing. There wasn’t a thing I could do until Mrs Jones let me back indoors and I was sure she soon would. I wondered, not for the first time, why Mr and Mrs Jones didn’t get one of those cat flaps fitted as having my own front door would be perfect. Oh well something to work on in the future, when this business was over.

But getting back into my home, where my breakfast was waiting, wasn’t as simple as it seemed. There was no sign of Mrs Jones, and Mr Jones hadn’t come back so there was no way for me to get back indoors. My breakfast would be dry and horrible – this was most inconsiderate of Mrs Jones and quite out of character.

Over the following day and night, during which time I fretted constantly about what could have happened, I concluded that no one could be at home after all, and I must have missed Mrs Jones leaving and unbelievably they had completely forgotten about me because I never saw my family again from that day to this.

So, although I still think of myself as Maisie Jones, in reality I’m now simply Maisie.

CHAPTER 2

Introducing TimTom

Although my lovely, cosy existence has gone in a blink and my life is now very tough and scary there is one compensation in all this and that is my new friend Tim. I assume his mum named him that as he has never actually belonged to anyone. He lived with his mother, and his two sisters, but once Tim could fend for himself his mum and sisters simply disappeared. One morning when he awoke he found himself alone. TimTom was heartbroken he told me and from that day on he has never seen any of them again and still feels very sad when he thinks of them and wonders where they are now and if they are happy. That makes me feel so sad for TimTom.

I know what you’re asking. Why do I call him TimTom and not his given name of Tim? Well I added the Tom bit because of course he is a tom cat. It amused me. He isn’t pretty like me as he’s never been cared for, loved, fed a decent meal or even combed whereas I still look loved – although as time passes living on the streets with TimTom, I will become feral-looking and more like skinny TimTom with knotted fur, bald patches and dull, hopeless eyes. The girls in number eighteen will start to ignore me then. Knowing this, when I started out being feral, whenever it rained I did try to wash in one of the many puddles that form in the dips in the road but it only made me look dirty and roguish and didn’t improve my looks at all – quite the opposite in fact, so I have now resigned myself to looking more and more bedraggled, more and more ugly, more and more ignored. Not exactly a bright future is it but I can’t see any alternative unless I do a ‘Puss in Boots’ act and seek my fame and fortune elsewhere but the trouble is I’m too much of a scaredy-cat to try. Besides which, the position of lord mayor of London has, I understand, already been taken.

I don’t know what’s worse – being TimTom, who has never known the delights of family life with its endless love and affection, regular food, warmth at night and his own bed and blankets or being me who has enjoyed all those luxuries, given with love from an adoring family then losing the lot in a blink. Hard to say other than we are now in the same sorry situation – living life on the streets, struggling to survive. TimTom has already warned me that it’s not fun, particularly in the winter and my first winter as feral Maisie is just around the corner when the evenings will draw in and dampness will creep into my bones during the long, winter nights. TimTom and I have discovered that if we sleep close together, it keeps us both warm and although we don’t have much to eat, we share everything fairly. Without TimTom, life, I admit, would be even more desperate than it is. How TimTom has managed on his own all this time I’ve no idea, but he’s obviously made of sterner stuff than I. Thanks to TimTom’s experiences I am learning to be quick, cunning, wheedling, in order to survive. I’m not sure I like the new Maisie but needs must. The one thing that is most pleasing though, in this nightmare, is that TimTom enjoys my company – seeks it, in fact, and that is heart-warming when I think of the bitterly cold nights to come.

CHAPTER 3

The Adventure Begins

TimTom and I spend our days searching for food, sleeping, searching for food and sleeping and yes, it’s as boring as it sounds but I am on this downward spiral and I’ve no idea what I can do about it. If only I did.

TimTom was out looking for food – it was his turn this morning – and as I say I’m at the top of my lamppost where I can see everything. Suddenly my heart skips a beat as I can see someone walking up the path to my house. It’s a man. It must be Mr Jones. I can’t help letting out a meow of excitement, delight, happiness, euphoria, relief and I am slipping almost falling down my lamppost and running over as fast as I can to be let into my house. A plate of fresh food is surely awaiting my attention, one if not two saucers of creamy milk, my bed and blankets will be warming by the fire… Oh bliss, oh wondrous life… Oh… Then I realise it isn’t Mr Jones at all but some other man I had never seen before. I’m puzzled. This stranger has a key and is opening the front door, and although I’m running at breakneck speed the door is already closing and ouch, I have ended up with my nose pressed hard against the cold wood of the closed door.