Author's Note: The late Nigel Kneale wrote the sci-fi Quatermass TV programmes. When I learnt that the artist and children's author Judith Kerr was married to Nigel Kneale, I thought that here was a marvellous idea for a crossover, even if nobody ever read it. I do hope you like this short one-off story.
Quatermass and the Tiger
When Daddy came home the water was off, and the fridge and pantry were empty. Mummy blamed a mysterious visitor, though she and Sophie were remarkably calm and accepting. No, they had not been robbed.
So Daddy took them to a little café down the road. Fortunately, it was welcoming to children, and little Sophie, quite untroubled by the afternoon's events, tucked into a good meal, finishing with her favourite ice cream. They told him about the tiger: "Not a Mister Tiger, but a real beautiful huge tiger," Sophie explained.
"You must have been scared witless?" he asked gently.
"No, uh … no," said his wife. "He … she, I don't know … the tiger was quietly spoken, polite even, not at all threatening."
"The tiger, an animal, spoke to you?" He kept his voice quiet and even – for they were in public – but the puzzlement and incredulity in his voice was unmistakable.
"Yes, Daddy," said Sophie. "He was very nice. I hope he comes again."
He asked no more questions after that. Back home they found to their relief that there was now water in the taps, and a very tired little girl was swiftly put to bed. Only then did her parents sit down to talk, facing each other over the kitchen table. Mother remained implacably matter-of-fact about the events of the afternoon, as though the visit of a full-sized talking tiger was, if not routine, at least unremarkable: nothing more than a trifling adventure for her and their daughter.
Baffled, Father let the matter rest that night, but thinking it over and over he lay awake a long while, his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. In the morning Sophie chattered on about the tiger, while her mother declined to discuss it, as though it was a past event of no interest.
After Daddy had gone to work, Mummy and Sophie went shopping and bought bread and milk and lots of other things. To keep Sophie happy, Mummy bought the largest can of cat food they could find and told Sophie that it was 'Tiger Food'; well, the label did say 'Tiger Food' in big print.
That very afternoon, Sophie and Mummy were sitting down to tea when there was a ring at the door. Mummy opened the door expecting it would be the tiger again, but on the doorstep was a man with greying hair and a moustache. The stranger wore a dark suit and a trilby hat which he raised in greeting; his was a face she had seen occasionally on newsreels. "My name is Quatermass, may I come in? About the visitor you had yesterday."
Sophie did not like this visitor as much as she did the tiger; but he was nice, and he wanted only one cup of tea and only one biscuit. He asked lots and lots of questions. He wanted to know about the tiger who had come to tea, and asked Sophie and Mummy all about him.
Sophie told him how lovely the tiger was; but also how he had eaten all their food and drunk all their drink, even Daddy's bottles and all the water in the tap.
The Professor wrote all this down in his notebook. He told Sophie and Mummy that the tiger had visited lots of people in the town, and nobody knew where he came from. He told Mummy, "I happened to see a report in the local paper: 'Tiger ate my biscuits says pensioner'. It intrigued me, and every since the events at Hobbs Lane I've been on the lookout for the strange or un-canny."
Mummy asked, "How did you find us?"
The Professor said "The shopkeeper told me; he overheard you and Sophie talking, and you bought Tiger Food. This is the only town where people buy Tiger Food, and they only buy it if they know about the tiger who comes to tea."
Sophie asked, "Will the tiger come again?"
The Professor smiled. "I don't know," he said, "but I would not be surprised, because you make your visitors so welcome." Sophie was very pleased with this answer and gave him a big smile back.
Mummy was pleased too, but she asked, "Why are you interested in this tiger? An important man like you must have more important things to do."
"Well, I'm not so important now that I've left the Rocket Group. I am interested in your tiger because it is such a mystery."
"What is so mysterious about calling in for tea? It seems perfectly natural to me."
"A big, talking tiger is … err … most unusual. But the biggest mystery is that you don't think that it is unusual."
"My husband said the same thing this morning."
"Did he? But he did believe you, didn't he?" Mummy nodded. "I believe you, too," said Quatermass. "And I want to find this tiger."
Sophie asked, "Do you want to catch him and put him back in the zoo? I don't think he would like that."
"I don't think that he is that sort of tiger. I think he is a very special sort of tiger. I want to talk to him and ask him why he eats and drinks so much."
"How can we help," asked Mummy.
"Nobody knows where he lives; did you see which way he went when he said goodbye?" asked the Professor. Mummy shook her head.
"Did he leave anything behind, a hair even?"
"I spent a lot of time today cleaning the house, didn't I Sophie, but I didn't see anything, not even a single hair."
"Could I possibly have the dust out of your vacuum cleaner in case it picked up a hair or two? You don't keep a dog or cat, do you?"
Mummy thought this a very strange thing to ask for, but she found a paper bag and the Professor empted their Hoover into it. He then thanked them both very much and said goodbye.
He went into a telephone box down the street, and made a call. "Quatermass here. The alien did call on them yesterday, it's definite. The same as before: it looks like a tiger; it speaks English; eats and drinks everything; and leaves. And nobody who sees it thinks it unusual! … No, still no photograph. I do have a bag of sweepings from the house and I'm bringing it in to the lab now. … Oh, and congratulations on the 'Tiger Food' ploy: the tracing device in it worked a treat: led me straight to their house. Bye."