Название | Henry and the Guardians of the Lost |
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Автор произведения | Jenny Nimmo |
Жанр | Учебная литература |
Серия | |
Издательство | Учебная литература |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781780317403 |
First published in paperback in Great Britain 2016
by Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2016 Jenny Nimmo
Cover illustration by George Ermos
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted
First e-book edition 2016
ISBN 978 1 4052 8087 7
Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1740 3
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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For Max, with love.
The yellow letter arrived on a Saturday, otherwise Henry would have been at school. The envelope was such a bright, sunny colour, no one would have believed that it contained a bombshell
There had been a storm in the night and the postman was late. Henry went out to see if the wild ocean had flooded the road. He knew he shouldn’t stand so close to the edge of the cliff, but he had survived so many dark and dangerous events, he had decided that nothing could finish him off. That was before he knew the contents of the yellow envelope.
Henry lived with his aunt, Pearl, and a black and white cat called Enkidu. Pearl wasn’t his real aunt, she was more of a minder, but she was distantly related to Henry, and also his cousin, Charlie. Henry’s parents had died long ago, nearly a hundred years in his father’s case. How could that be, you might ask, if Henry was only twelve?
That was his secret.
Henry’s life had changed in an instant, almost a century ago. He had been alone in the great hall of his uncle’s gloomy house when a large and beautiful marble had come rolling towards him. Unaware of the danger, Henry had picked it up and looked into it. He had been thrust into the future, and had lived in the present for almost two years, but in all that time he hadn’t grown. Not one inch.
Henry’s home was a small white-washed house perched halfway up a rugged cliff. For obvious reasons the house was called Ocean View. It was a place of safety for a boy whose past was almost too incredible to be believed.
Frank, the postman, arrived at last. He was a wiry, cheerful person with a wide smile and large, pink ears. He never complained about the steep lane that led up to the house nor the road below that was frequently puddled with sea water.
Henry met Frank at the front door. ‘Hullo, Frank. Have you had a bad time?’ Henry looked up at the rain-filled clouds.
‘Not so bad.’ Frank placed a bundle of mail in Henry’s hands.
The yellow letter was on top.
‘Interesting!’ Frank tapped the stamp in the corner. ‘Diplodocus, is it?’
‘Iguanodon,’ said Henry.
‘I’ll learn them one day.’ Frank grinned and got back into his van. ‘Give my regards to Auntie Pearl!’ he called as he sped off.
Henry