The Girl Who Saved Christmas. Matt Haig
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Название: The Girl Who Saved Christmas
Автор: Matt Haig
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
isbn: 9781782118589
isbn:
‘What a pair of grubby little animals you are!’
Captain Soot’s hair stood on end, making him look like a fluffy ball of anger.
‘He doesn’t like being called names, sir.’
Mr Creeper clearly did not like being talked to in this way by a child. Especially a poor one, dressed in sooty rags, whose cat had made a mess of his floor. ‘Stand up, girl.’
Amelia stood up.
‘How old are you?’
‘I’m ten, sir.’
Mr Creeper grabbed Amelia by the ear. ‘You are a liar.’
He bent down and squinted at her as if inspecting some dirt on his shoe. Amelia saw his crooked nose and wondered how it had broken. She silently wished she could have been there to see it happen. ‘I spoke to your mother. You are nine. A liar and a thief.’
Her ear felt like it was going to be pulled off. ‘Please, sir, that hurts, sir.’
‘I could have gone for another sweep when your mother fell ill,’ said Mr Creeper, letting go of Amelia and rubbing away the dirt from his hands. ‘But no, I said I’ll give this girl a go. What an absolute mistake. My workhouse is where you should be. Now, the money . . .’
‘It’s three pennies, sir. But as I made a bit of a mess you can have it half price.’
‘No.’
‘No what, sir?’
‘You’ve got it the wrong way round. You are the one who has to pay me.’
‘Why, sir?’
‘For ruining my rug.’
Amelia looked at the rug. It probably cost more than a chimney sweep could earn in ten years. She felt sad and angry. She had needed the three pennies from Mr Creeper to buy a figgy pudding for her and her mother tomorrow. They couldn’t afford a goose or a turkey but they could afford a Christmas pudding. Well, they would have done.
‘What money have you got in your pocket?’
‘None, sir.’
‘Liar. I can see the shape of a coin. Give it to me.’
Amelia dug in her pocket to produce the only coin she had. She stared at the face of Queen Victoria on the brown halfpenny.
Mr Creeper shook his head. And looked at her, as if he really was a crow and she was a worm. He grasped her ear again and twisted it. ‘Your mother really has been soft with you, hasn’t she? I always thought she was a weak kind of woman. I mean, your father obviously thought so. He didn’t stick around for either of you, did he?’
Amelia’s face reddened. She had never known her father except as a charcoal sketch her mother had drawn. He was dressed in a soldier’s uniform and was smiling. William Wishart looked like a hero and that was enough for her. He had been a soldier in the British Army and had gone to war in a very hot country called Burma. He had died there the year Amelia was born. She had imagined him being strong and noble and heroic and the exact opposite of Mr Creeper.
‘Your mother has not been a good one. Look at you. In your ragged trousers. You would hardly know you weren’t a boy. Your mother hasn’t taught you to be a girl, has she? At least she probably won’t be around for long . . .’
Even Captain Soot seemed cross about this and he pounced across the room and swiped at Mr Creeper, digging his claws into his black trousers and ripping the material. Mr Creeper pushed the cat away with his cane, and Amelia felt a red flash of rage. She jabbed the sooty bristles of her brush into Mr Creeper’s horrid face and kicked him in the shins. Then she kicked him again. And once more.
Mr Creeper coughed on soot. ‘YOU!’
Amelia wasn’t scared any more. She thought of her mother lying ill in bed. ‘Don’t. Talk. About. My. Ma!’
She threw the coin on the ground and stormed out of the room.
‘I’ll be seeing you.’
No, you won’t, Amelia thought, and hoped like mad that it was true, as Captain Soot trotted by her side, leaving sooty footprints all the way.
Outside, Amelia walked eastwards, through the dark and dirty streets towards her home on Haberdashery Road. The houses got smaller and shabbier and closer together. A small church hummed with the sound of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. As she walked she passed people setting up stalls for a Christmas market, girls in the street playing hopscotch, servants with geese from the butcher’s, a woman carrying a Christmas pudding, and a man waking up on a bench.
A chestnut seller called out, ‘Merry Christmas, love!’
Amelia smiled and tried to feel merry and Christmasy but it was hard. Far harder than it had been last year.
‘It’s Christmas Eve, love,’ said the chestnut seller. ‘Father Christmas will be coming tonight.’
Amelia smiled at the thought of Father Christmas. She raised her chimney brush and shouted, ‘Happy Christmas.’
Little Mim
As you could guess from his name Little Mim was, well, little, even by elf standards.
And young. He was younger than you. A lot younger. Three years old, to be exact. He had dark black hair that shone like lakes in moonlight and he smelled faintly of gingerbread. He went to the little kindergarten that was now part of the School of Sleighcraft, and lived in a small cottage just off the Street of Seven Curves in the middle of Elfhelm.
But today wasn’t a school day.
It was Christmas Eve. The most exciting day of the year. And this year it was the most exciting Christmas Eve there had ever been. At least for Little Mim. Because today he was going to see the Toy Workshop along with all the other elf children. You see, once Father Christmas’s sack had been filled with all the presents for the human children, the elf children were allowed to pick whichever toys they wanted. And Little Mim had never been to the Toy Workshop.
‘It’s Christmas Eve!’ he yelped as he jumped onto his parents’ bed. His parents’ bed, like most elf beds, was as bouncy as a trampoline, so the moment he jumped on it he bounced so high he hit his head on the ceiling and tore through a red and green paper chain that had been put up as part of the bedroom’s many Christmas decorations.
‘Little Mim, it’s too early,’ moaned his mother, Noosh, from beneath a tangled mess of dark hair. She pulled the pillow over her head.
‘Your СКАЧАТЬ