Mossy and the Midnight Drum

Isla found a drum in her wellington boot. It was a tiny green drum, no bigger than an egg cup, and it was sitting right where her toes should go.

"Hello," said a small voice. "That's mine."

A mouse in a raincoat climbed out of the boot. Her name was Mossy, and she was the drummer for the whole hedge.

"Tonight there's a thunderstorm," Mossy said. "The hedge folk get scared of the big booms. So I drum along, and then the booms sound like part of a song."

Isla wanted to help. She sat on the back step, in her pyjamas, with a blanket round her shoulders.

The sky went flash. Then, a long breath later, it went ROOOOM.

Mossy drummed. Tap-tap-tap. But the drum was so small that the thunder swallowed it up.

"Too quiet," said Mossy. "Oh dear."

Isla fetched a saucepan and a wooden spoon from the kitchen. She banged it. BONG! It was so loud that a snail inside the hedge fell off a leaf.

"Too loud," Mossy whispered. "Oh dear."

They sat and watched the rain. Flash. Then they waited. Isla counted under her breath. One, two, three, four, five... ROOOOM.

"Wait," said Isla. "The thunder takes its time. It always comes after the flash."

She held up the spoon. Flash! One, two, three... Isla tapped the saucepan very gently, just a little, and Mossy tapped her drum along with it. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.

Then ROOOOM rolled in right on the end, like the last note of a song.

"It's keeping the beat with us!" said Mossy.

All along the hedge, little faces peeked out of the leaves. A hedgehog. Two beetles. The snail, climbing back up.

Flash. One, two, three... tap, tap, tap-tap... ROOOOM.

Isla grinned. The rain pattered on the step. The saucepan hummed softly, and the last small tap of the drum faded into the dripping dark.