Harry and Hope. Sarah Lean

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Название Harry and Hope
Автор произведения Sarah Lean
Жанр Природа и животные
Серия
Издательство Природа и животные
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007512256



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       Copyright

      First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2015

      HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

      1 London Bridge Street

      London, SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Copyright © Sarah Lean 2015

      Illustrations © Gary Blythe 2015

      Cover photographs © Mark harris (dog), Cavan images / Getty images (boy), Shutterstock (all other images)

      Sarah Lean asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

      Gary Blythe asserts the moral right to be identified as the illustrator of the work.

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Source ISBN: 9780007512263

      Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780007512256

      Version: 2015-02-05

       Praise for Sarah Lean

      “Sarah Lean weaves magic and emotion into beautiful stories.”

      Cathy Cassidy

      “Touching, reflective and lyrical.”

      The Sunday Times

      “… beautifully written and moving. A talent to watch.”

      The Bookseller

      “Sarah Lean’s graceful, miraculous writing will have you weeping one moment and rejoicing the next.”

      Katherine Applegate, author of The One and Only Ivan

       For my little sister

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      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Praise for Sarah Lean

       Dedication

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Acknowledgments

       About the Author

       Also by Sarah Lean

       About the Publisher

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      It must have snowed on the mountain in the night.

      “Have you seen it yet, Frank?” I shouted downstairs.

      “You mean did I hear?”

      “I know, funny, isn’t it? The snow’s so quiet but it’s making all the animals noisy.”

      We didn’t normally see snow on Canigou in May, and it made the village dogs bark in that crazy way dogs do when something is out of place. Harry, Frank’s donkey, was down in his shed, chin up on the half open door, calling like a creaky violin.

      Frank came up to the roof terrace where I’d been sleeping in the hammock. He leaned over the red tiles next to me and we looked at Canigou, sparkling at the top like a jewellery shop.

      And it’s the kind of thing that is hard to describe, when snow is what you can see while the sun is warming your skin. How did it feel? To see one thing and feel the complete opposite? I only knew that other things didn’t seem to fit together properly at the moment either; that my mother and Frank seemed as far apart as the snow and the sun.

      “Frank, at school Madame was telling us that the things we do affect the environment, you know, like leaving lights on, things like that,” I said. “Well, I left the lights on in the girls’ loo.”

      Frank smiled. Frank was my mother’s boyfriend, but that won’t tell you what he meant to me at all. He’d lived in our guesthouse next door for three years and he wouldn’t ever say the things to me that Madame had said when I forgot to turn the lights off. In fact, what he did was leave a soft friendly silence, so I knew I could ask what I wanted to ask, because I wasn’t sure about the whole environment thing.

      “Did I make it snow on Canigou?”

      “Leave the light on and see if it snows again,” he whispered, grinning.

      He made the world seem real simple, like a little light switch right under my fingertips. But there were other complicated things.

      “Remember when the cherry blossom fell