Moss the Mill Mouse

After accidentally falling into a sack of grain on the back of a horse-driven cart, Moss the mouse found himself at Heckington Windmill and soon settled in. He now lives there with his best friend Cheesemould the rat and they spend their time hiding from Mr Pocklington the miller, dodging Grimclaw the wicked mill cat, chatting to the ladies in the hen house and finding tasty morsels to eat. Join the fun and follow the adventure in every edition of Heckington Living magazine.

In July 2019, Heckington Village relaunched the village magazine, renaming it Heckington Living. I submitted the idea of a serialised family friendly story and about a mouse called Moss who sets up home at Heckington Windmill in 1900 and was delighted when I was asked to write it. I was equally delighted when my dear artist friend, Patricia Mellett-Brown, agreed to illustrate the characters for me. Collaborating every couple of months, Patricia and I produce the next chapter in the life of Moss for each new edition of the magazine.

Here is the twentieth instalment from the November 2022 – January 2023 edition of Heckington Living:

CHAPTER TWENTY
Cheesemould Saves the Day

Cheesemould wasn’t sure his idea was going to work but it was worth a try. He pushed the two large stones together until they touched and then lifted the trowel and positioned the wooden handle on the groove that had formed between the two stones, the metal spade end resting on the ground. Scurrying back to the patch of dandelions, Cheesemould rummaged amongst the leaves at the base of the stems and picked up several pebbles and small pieces of gravel. With his arms full, he returned to the trowel balanced on the stones and placed the pebbles and gravel on the shovel part. Everything was set.

Now, it was his big moment. Cheesemould stood next to the handle of the trowel which presently was pointing up. He carefully checked the trajectory in relation to the cottage window pane above him. Then, inhaling a deep breath which filled his lungs, the rat jumped up into the air as high as he could go and flung himself on to the trowel handle. As he did this the metal end swiftly rose into the air, catapulting the pebbles towards the window pane.
Inside the cottage, Mrs Pocklington was still standing at the kitchen table when she heard the gentle tapping at the window, ‘What on earth was that?’
Grimclaw, stretched out on the hearth rug, stirred when he heard her voice. The miller’s wife brushed down her apron and wiped her hands on a cloth, ‘I best go and check.’

The cat watched Mrs Pocklington walk towards the back door, in the hope she might toss a tasty titbit in his direction as she passed. She opened the door and stepped outside, leaving the door ajar behind her. Cheesemould saw her appear. He was sitting on the ground, winded after throwing himself on to the trowel handle but there was no time to catch his breath. He had to move fast if Moss was to escape before Mrs Pocklington went back inside.
Dashing over to the back door, Cheesemould peered around the edge of the door-frame and saw Grimclaw outstretched on the rug. Without hesitation, he called out to the cat, ‘Oi! You mangy moggy! Catch me if you can!’ Then he stuck his tongue out and turned on his heel to run away.

In a split second, Grimclaw had sprung to his feet and darted through the gap in the doorway in pursuit of the foolish but brave rat.
Up on the kitchen table, Moss had been watching all of this from his hiding place behind the jug. He knew he had to act quickly if he was to break out before the woman or the cat returned. He ran to the corner of the table and deftly lowered himself over the edge until he could wrap his paws around the table leg. He then half slid, half tumbled down the wooden pole, hitting the floorboard with a bump. Next, he raced towards the open door and out into the yard. Moss had escaped, he was free.