Chapter 1
‘Tom! Where are you?’ shouted Mrs Nightingale.
But her son was nowhere to be found.
First she looked around the houseboat where they lived. She checked all three bedrooms, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the deck and the roof.
Then she walked out on the towpath where the houseboat was moored. She looked up and down the canal bank and shouted ‘Tom!’ again.
She walked down to her father’s boat. His barge, the Molly Magee , was moored fifty metres further down the towpath. She swung herself on to the deck and opened the door.
‘Is Tom in here, Dad?’ she asked.
Grandad was watching a cricket match on the television. His feet were in a washing-up bowl full of hot water.
‘’Fraid not, Katie,’ Grandad replied. ‘You’re OUT, sir!’ he shouted at the television.
Mrs Nightingale walked back along the canal, peering into all the bushes and glancing up at the trees, checking to see if Tom was in any of his usual hiding places.
She climbed back on to The Ark , which was the nickname of their boat. It had potted plants on the roof and wild animals painted on both sides.
Her daughter, Sophie, was sitting by the kitchen table, wearing her coat and gloves.
‘Sophie, do you know where your brother is?’ Mrs Nightingale asked. ‘We can’t leave without him.’
Sophie got up with a sigh. ‘This happens every time. Can’t you just tell him we’re going to the zoo instead?’
‘Lying is wrong, Sophie,’ Mrs Nightingale said. ‘Besides, I tried that last time and he saw right through it.’
Tom was hiding. He had made up his mind about half an hour earlier and had tiptoed through the living room and off the houseboat. His mother and sister were too busy to notice – they were talking about a new ocelot that had arrived at London Zoo, where Mrs Nightingale worked as Chief Vet.
As he closed the front door, one of the family cats – Mindy – slid outside too and curled herself around Tom’s legs.
‘Can’t stroke you now, Mindy,’ Tom said. ‘Got to hide.’
He ran along the towpath and climbed up the bank towards the wall that separated the canal from the street. Then he walked along the wall for about ten metres, wobbling and veering from one side to the other, before lowering himself down off the end. He was now in the field behind the London Zoo car park, creeping through the long grass. When he reached an iron gate, he vaulted over, landing in the local boat repair yard. This was where barges were taken out of the water to be fixed or repainted or resealed. A small red houseboat was currently in the dry dock, propped up on wooden trestles, with half its hull missing.
Tom spotted what he’d been looking for – the foreman’s shed. He quickly slid behind it, and sat down next to a tree. He was completely out of sight. He got his portable games console out of his pocket and started to play Ninja Hippos.
Five minutes later, Sophie stuck her head behind the shed. ‘Come on, Tom,’ she said. ‘Time to go.’
So Mrs Nightingale, Tom and Sophie all went to the dentist’s together.
Tom couldn’t believe that Sophie had found him so quickly. She must have heard the beeps and pings from his games console. Next time, he’d turn the sound right down or bring his headphones.
‘Honestly, Tom, the dentist isn’t that bad,’ said Mrs Nightingale. ‘You don’t want to end up with brown teeth like Great-Uncle Humphrey, do you?’
‘Mm-nnn-mmm,’ said Tom, keeping his lips clamped tightly together.
‘It only takes about half an hour,’ said Mrs Nightingale, ‘and then it’s over for another six months.’
‘Nn-mm-nnn,’ said Tom, still keeping his mouth firmly closed.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Mrs Nightingale said. ‘I can’t understand a word you’re saying.’
‘I think he’s refusing to open his mouth,’ said Sophie. ‘That way, the dentist can’t look at his teeth.’
Tom pointed at Sophie and nodded. Then
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