by Heather Dyer
So the pirate with the eye patch went up close to Elinor. His one eye glittered. ‘Two little words,’ he said. ‘DON’T LOOK!’
‘I’m not looking,’ said Elinor.
‘You want to, though, don’t you?’
‘No.’
‘What – not even a tiny bit?’
‘Nope,’ said Elinor, and she turned away to rearrange the books upon her shelf.
The pirates looked at one another in surprise.
‘Fine,’ said the pirate with the wooden leg. ‘Don’t look, then.’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t!’
‘Good!’
The pirate with the patch put the gold key in the lock and waggled it.
Nothing happened.
‘Let me have a go,’ said the pirate with the wooden leg.
But he couldn’t do it either. Eventually they turned to Elinor. ‘Excuse me,’ they said. ‘Would you mind…?’
So Elinor took the key and twisted it the other way. At once the lid flew back revealing golden coins – hundreds of them.
‘We’re rich! Rich!’ cried the pirates. They linked arms and did a little jig. Then the pirate with the wooden leg took out one gold coin and turned it this way and that under the lamp.
Outside the wind roared and rattled at the windows as though it was trying to get in.
‘I bet you’d love to get your hands on these, wouldn’t you?’ said the pirate to Elinor.
‘Not really,’ said Elinor.
‘What – not even one?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ said the pirate with the eye patch. ‘Have this one. Go on.’
‘No thanks. I’m not—’
‘TAKE IT!’ roared the pirate.
‘All right! All right!’ said Elinor. ‘Keep your hair on.’ She took the coin and dropped it into the pocket of her dressing gown.
‘Now, then,’ said the pirate with the wooden leg. ‘We’ll share the rest of it between us. Half for me and half for you.’
‘Or,’ said the pirate with the eye patch. ‘Half for me and half for you.’
‘Exactly.’
The pirates rolled up their sleeves and plunged their arms into the chest – but their heads met in the middle with a hollow ‘clack’ and they both sat down abruptly.
Elinor laughed.
The pirates roared and struggled to their feet again. The pirate with the eye patch slapped the other pirate’s face. The pirate with the wooden leg yanked on the other pirate’s beard.
‘Cut it out!’ said Elinor.
The pirate with the wooden leg kicked the pirate with the eye patch. The pirate with the eye patch grabbed the other pirate’s wooden leg and made him hop in circles.
‘Stop it!’ said Elinor.
The pirates blundered round Elinor’s bedroom, crashing into the furniture and knocking things off the shelves. And all the while the storm raged on outside.
‘You’re going to break something!’ yelled Elinor.
The pirates ignored her. The pirate with the wooden leg snatched the other pirate’s eye patch and let go suddenly. The pirate with the eye patch thumped the other pirate with his plastic sword. Outside the wind howled.
‘Right,’ said Elinor. ‘That’s it!’
While the pirates carried on fighting, Elinor slammed the lid of the treasure chest, took hold of one of the handles and heaved it out onto the sand.
The weather was wild! But Elinor dragged the chest right down to the edge of the sea. Then she pushed it into the water.
With the first wave, the chest was afloat. The next wave drew it further out. Elinor watched until the treasure chest was just a small dark square bobbing on the waves. Then she marched back to her bedroom, put her fingers in her mouth and whistled.
The pirates stared at her. Then they stared at the place where their treasure chest had been.
‘Where’s our loot?’ they roared.
Elinor pointed at the sea.
With a cry of dismay the pirates ran down the beach, pushed their boat back into the waves, jumped in and began pulling at the oars.
‘Bye!’ said Elinor.
Soon the boat was just a small dark shape upon the sea – then it was gone. And the storm had retreated, too. The wind had fallen, the rain had stopped, and the night sky was full of stars. Elinor gave a sigh of relief. ‘At last,’ she said. ‘Peace and quiet.’ She took the coin out of her pocket, peeled back the gold foil and popped the chocolate disc into her mouth. Then she took off her dressing gown and rabbit slippers, and climbed back into bed. And eventually, lulled by the rush and sigh of the sea, Elinor slept.
When Elinor woke up, it was morning. The storm had passed. The sun was shining, the seagulls were soaring high over Aberdovey, mewing like cats – and the sea was twinkling more than diamonds.
The Flying Bedroom and the Train
Once, Elinor woke up to find her whole room rattling.
She sat up. The tassels on her bedside light were swinging back and forth, and the water in her glass was trembling. And what was that rumbling noise?
Clickety-click-clack went the wheels on the track.
Choo! Choo! went the whistle.
Elinor went to the window and looked out. To her surprise, she saw a rocky coastline rushing past. The clifftops were covered in pink flowers and the sea was crashing on the rocks below.
Elinor put on her dressing gown and rabbit slippers and opened her bedroom door. But instead of the upstairs corridor, Elinor found herself in the corridor of a train. Through the windows on the other side she could see fields of sheep rushing past, and several other carriages curving along the track ahead.
Elinor stepped back into her room and shut the door.
The train was slowing. The brakes squealed and the train came to a stop beside a lonely platform. A woman with a backpack got onto the train, then the door slammed, a whistle blew, and the train pulled off again.
A moment later Elinor’s door opened and the woman appeared. ‘Hello!’ she said. ‘Is this a private carriage?’
‘No!’ said Elinor. ‘It’s—’
‘Oh, good!’ The woman took off her backpack and sat down opposite Elinor. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Elinor.’
‘But that’s my name!’ said Elinor.
‘Call me Ellie, then. Everyone does. Have you come far?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Elinor. ‘I just woke up, and here I was.’
Ellie laughed. ‘That’s the best thing about travelling: waking up somewhere new each day. Isn’t it marvellous?’
‘But I’ve got to get back. I’ve got school in the morning.’
‘Don’t worry too much about that,’ said Ellie. ‘You’ll reach your destination in the end. We all do. In the meantime, enjoy the journey. Sandwich?’
‘Thank you,’ said Elinor.
Ellie unpacked a cheese and pickle sandwich and gave half to Elinor, and when Elinor next looked out of the window she saw that the train had left the coast behind and was passing through a dark pine forest.
‘Are you going far?’ asked Elinor.
‘No idea! I just keep going until I feel like stopping.’
‘Really? Where have you been?’
‘Where haven’t I been?’ said Ellie. As they ate their sandwiches she told Elinor about the time she had sailed around the Cape, lived in a treehouse in the Amazon, and built an igloo with the Inuit.
‘Don’t you get homesick?’ asked Elinor.
‘Not me!’ said Ellie. ‘The way I see it, it seems a shame to stay in one place all your life when there’s a world out there, waiting to be explored.’
‘I suppose it does,’ said Elinor.
The train was climbing now, and they could see snow-capped peaks in the distance. It was getting chilly. Snow was falling on the silent pines. Elinor put on her winter coat and woolly hat and scarf. Ellie unpacked a flask of hot chocolate and poured them each a cup.
Presently, the train stopped and three skiers got ou
t of a carriage further down. Then a door banged, the whistle blew, and the train pulled off again.
Elinor sighed. ‘I wish I could go travelling too,’ she said.
‘You will, one day.’
Down the mountainside went the train, faster and faster, and from the window they could see steep ravines with raging rivers crossed by narrow rope bridges. It was getting warmer now, so Elinor took off her coat and hat and scarf and put on her sunglasses. When she sat back down she saw that they were passing through fields of tea bushes, where women were picking leaves and putting them in baskets on their backs.
But soon the train was slowing down and pulling into a busy station. Doors banged, the whistle blew – then in came several women wearing saris. They piled their cases on top of Elinor’s wardrobe, and sat in a row on Elinor’s bed. Then the whistle blew, and the train pulled off.
The women chattered in a language that Elinor didn’t understand, but Ellie passed round a bag of salted peanuts, and the women shared their sticky gulab jamun, and one of the women gave Ellie and Elinor a red dot on their foreheads with her thumb.
But soon the train was slowing and the women in the saris packed up their things, collected their bags, and all got off again.
CLICKETY-CLICK-CLACK went the wheels on the track.
Choo! Choo! went the whistle.
Elinor found a pack of playing cards in her top drawer, and she and Ellie played snap and ate fruitcake. The train passed through shanty towns with houses made of corrugated iron, and then it crossed a bridge over a wide brown river, and they saw water buffalo wading in rice paddies.
The train was stopping again. Four children in school uniform got on the train. They sat in a row on Elinor’s bed and got out their recorders, so Elinor got out her recorder too, and they played a tune.
At the next stop the children gathered up their things and left.
CLICKETY-CLICK-CLACK went the wheels on the track.
Choo! Choo! went the whistle.
Every time the train stopped, people got on and people got off. It was hotter now. The train was crossing a wide plain, dotted with acacia trees. They saw a giraffe drinking from a waterhole, and a leopard sleeping in a tree. Then – whump! – Elinor’s bedroom was plunged into darkness. It rattled and shook and then – whoosh! – the train came out of the tunnel again. Now it was passing between tall office blocks, and it was raining.
Ellie began packing up her things. ‘I’m getting off here,’ she said. ‘Enjoy your journey, Elinor.’
‘You too,’ said Elinor.
They hugged. Then Ellie shouldered her backpack and headed for the door.
‘Bye!’ said Elinor. She leaned out of the window and waved at Ellie until she was out of sight. Then she sat back down and opened a book.
Just then, her door opened again and in came a businessman. He put his umbrella in Elinor’s wastepaper basket, hung his coat on the back of the door, and sat down opposite. Then he got his newspaper out.
‘Hello,’ said Elinor.
The man glanced at Elinor over his paper. ‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Are you going far?’ asked Elinor.
‘Dulwich,’ said the man. He noted Elinor’s sunglasses, the red dot on her forehead, and her dressing gown. Then he said, ‘And you?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Elinor. ‘I just keep going until I feel like stopping.’
‘Really? Where have you been?’
‘Where haven’t I been?’ said Elinor, and she told the man from Dulwich about the snowy mountain tops and the deep ravines and the tea pickers and the leopard in the tree.
The man sighed. ‘I wish I could go travelling, too.’
‘Why don’t you, then?’ said Elinor. ‘The way I see it, it seems a shame to stay in one place all your life when there’s a world out there, waiting to be explored.’
‘You know,’ said the man, ‘you’re absolutely right.’ He got up and collected his umbrella and his coat.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Elinor.
‘To see the world!’ said the man.
Then he was gone.
The train was slowing. Through the window Elinor could see a brick wall sliding past. That was curious, she thought. Then there came an announcement, ‘NEXT STOP: EMBANKMENT!’ and the train pulled up beside a crowded underground platform. Elinor saw the man from Dulwich get off the train, cross the platform, and leap onto a train going in the opposite direction. A moment later her bedroom door flew open and a crowd of people poured in.
There was a woman with a toddler in a pushchair, a man with a guide dog and a boy wearing headphones. They sat in a line on Elinor’s bed, and were joined by a woman reading a book and a girl chewing gum. A very tall man went to the middle of Elinor’s bedroom and held on to the lampshade to steady himself – and several others crowded in around him. Soon there was standing room only. Then the doors closed and the train moved on again.
Every time the train stopped people got on and people got off: PICCADILLY CIRCUS … VICTORIA STATION … EUSTON SQUARE … until eventually, Elinor was alone again. She looked out of the window. Evening had fallen. It had stopped raining and Elinor could see back gardens. The lights were on in kitchen windows. Suddenly Elinor longed to be at home again.
Then the door opened and a conductor appeared. ‘Tickets, please!’
‘How much to Aberdovey?’ asked Elinor.
‘Two pounds twenty.’
So Elinor counted out the money in her piggy bank and the conductor printed her a ticket.
‘Thank you,’ said Elinor.
When he had gone Elinor closed the curtains, hung up her dressing gown, took off her rabbit slippers, and climbed into bed. And soon, lulled by the rocking of the train, Elinor fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, Elinor woke up. Her bedroom had stopped.
She got out of bed and went to the window. The moon was bright. The rooftops of Aberdovey were shining in the moonlight – and faintly, in the distance, Elinor could hear the train: Clickety-clack-clack. Choo! Choo! And there it was, pulling out of Aberdovey station.
There was a big world out there, thought Elinor. One day she would get on board that train again.
She watched until it had rounded the headland and disappeared. Then she yawned, and got back into bed again.
Heather Dyer grew up in North Wales. Her family moved to Canada when she was eight, where they lived for a time in a log cabin. Heather works as an editor and teaches writing at Aberystwyth University, where she is also studying for a PhD.
Her books for children have received several awards. The Girl with the Broken Wing was one of Richard and Judy’s ‘Best Children’s Books Ever’, The Boy in the Biscuit Tin was nominated for the Galaxy Best British Children’s Book Award, and The Fish in Room 11 won the Highland Children’s Book Award.
Chloe Douglass grew up in Hereford, nestled on the Welsh Border, a rural town surrounded by myths and legends. She was forever drawing dragons, unicorns and mountainous landscapes. Chloe graduated from Kingston University with an MA in Illustration in 2012 and has been creating stories and characters since then. She also produces her own greeting cards.
She lives in Wimbledon with her two fluffy cats, and when not illustrating she can be found singing at her local community choir, gardening, drinking an impressive amount of earl grey tea and sewing felt ponies.
First published in 2014
by Firefly Press
25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North, Cardiff, CF14 2JJ
www.fireflypress.co.uk
Text © Heather Dyer 2014
Illustrations © Chloe Douglass 2014
Heather Dyer and Chloe Douglass assert their moral right to be identified as author and illustrator in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior c
onsent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.
The author wishes to acknowledge the award of a New Writer’s Bursary from Literature Wales for the purpose of starting this book.
Print ISBN: 978-1-910080-02-3
Epub ISBN: 978-1-910080-03-0
