AN EXCERPT: The Two Worlds of Tom Tinderlee

December 1952, North-West England

It was Tom Tinderlee’s eleventh birthday, and he had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to live with his uncle and aunt any longer. He’d had enough and was determined to get away. The last time he had tried to escape, he had been caught and brought back. But this time he had a plan which he was sure would work. There was only one question he couldn’t answer. What would he do with his dog Charlie? As much as he loved him, he knew he had to leave Charlie behind. The dog sensed something was wrong, held out his paw and tilted his head which made his chewed ear flop to the side. Tom let the paw rest on his hand, and it gave him an idea. He would be seeing his best friend, Pete Ash at the Tuck Shop after school, and that would be a good time to ask if Charlie could stay with his family.

There was no heating in his room so, standing in front of a cracked mirror which cut him in half, he dressed as quickly as he could and just as he did every morning, he stretched an area of skin on either side of his nose to see if he had any more freckles. It was pointless trying to count them, but the tear-shaped birthmark under his left eye, well that was different He couldn’t help scraping his cheek in the hope that the mark would fade or better still, disappear altogether. Some of the kids at school kept making fun about it. At first the teasing had upset him but then there were days when he lost his temper and got into fights. On his end of term reports the headmaster had written, “He is getting into trouble too often He must control his temper,” and it was double underlined.

Tom’s room was in a flat at the top of an old house, and he had to pick his way carefully across the wooden floor to avoid stray splinters. He gathered up pages of the Eagle comic a friend at school had given him. His favourite comic hero Dan Dare, a spaceship commander, stared at him as he saluted. Tom put on his coat and saluted back.

Before he left he checked the broom cupboard near the front door, pulled out an old tin box from inside a drawer, and carefully counted two-hundred-pound notes. He then slid the box back into the same place. Each month his uncle received the money in an envelope marked, “For the benefit of Tom Tinderlee.” Tom had no idea what his uncle did with the money, but he knew it was more than enough to pay for a train ticket to London and a place on a ship that would get him to America. The idea had come from a letter he had found from his cousin Joe who lived in Texas. He remembered his father’s story how Joe had built a big cattle ranch and Tom was sure he could start a new life there.

He was about to go downstairs when he thought it best to check in case his uncle or aunt had sneaked in during the night.

‘Aunt Florentine, you here?’

The house was quiet, but in case she had just woken up, he raised his voice and called out again. There was no response and more importantly no sound of Bert gargling as he snored. Tom breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to face his uncle’s fierce morning temper.

Hands deep in his pockets where the lining was torn and with the dog by his heels, Tom strode away into the first flakes of snow hanging around the lamp posts. He pretended to be his hero. ‘I am Dan Dare, and Charlie, you can be the evil Mekon in his flying saucer, the alien enemy who is trying to destroy me. Away we go!’ and lowering his head, he charged up the hill shouting, ‘I’m flying over the world. You’ll never get me. ’

Tom pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his hands for warmth and ran a bit faster as the dog dashed ahead, but it wasn’t long before he had to stop, hands on knees, panting.

‘Hang on I’m puffed out here. Gimme a moment. ’

He was just about to carry on up the hill when he caught sight of something glinting on the pavement. It was difficult to see at first but he could just make out the outline of a coin stuck in a hard frost at the kerb edge. Tom placed his hands on the ground until the cold patch released a threepenny bit.

‘What a stroke of luck, hey Charlie. Someone’s left me a birthday present. ’

He ran on a few hundred yards as the dark shape of Monklow School, blackened by fire a year ago, loomed out of a mist. He was thinking about the first time he’d seen it and how, sick with nerves, he had hated the thought of going in on his own and knowing no one, when suddenly he lost his balance and had to stop himself from falling over. A long leg had emerged from a wall on his right and caught him as he ran past. He had missed the outstretched foot of a figure huddled in a doorway. An old man in a shabby coat tied with a belt and a broken buckle held out his arm and called to him.

‘D’you have any spare pennies, son?’

Tom was so surprised he didn’t know what to say at first and shook his head. ‘Sorry, mister, I’ve got nothing, ’ and ran on with the dog trotting alongside. They had not gone far when he stopped.

‘This isn’t right, is it? Can’t leave the poor old bloke on his own, can we Charlie? He must be starving. ’

Tom was breathing hard as he turned and went back to the doorway. The old man was still there with his knees up to his chest. His breathing crackled when he coughed. Tom looked at him, then the coin and gripped it tightly for a few seconds. He knew it was the right thing to do. ‘Here mister take this. ’

The man made a fist round the coin, and with his other hand spread his long bony fingers across Tom’s wrist pulling him close. They were face to face, and under the man’s hooded eyelids, his eyes were bloodshot and watery. Tom was surprised by the man’s strong grip.

‘What’s your name boy?’

‘Tom Tinderlee. ’

‘Of course, it is. I knew you would come by. I have a message. Good luck has found you. All will soon change for you. You’ll be leaving here soon and there are dangerous challenges ahead. If you don’t come back. I’ll look after the dog. ’ The raggle-taggle figure let go and folded his arms.