Eating Things on Sticks

BOOK: Eating Things on Sticks
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W
e were quite near the island now. Apart from one great lump of a hill that rose in the middle, the whole place was dead flat. There didn't seem to be a single tree on it – not even a stump.
‘Perhaps it's been used recently for bombing practice?' I couldn't help suggesting.
‘Nonsense,' said Uncle Tristram. ‘It is a wondrous sight. Wide and uncluttered. Perhaps the winters are quite harsh round here, so trees can't get established.'
‘Blown away, are they?'
‘Harry,' said Uncle Tristram testily, ‘this island is famous for its rugged beauty.'
‘So is the Gobi desert,' I snapped back, ‘but no one goes there on hols . . .'
‘
A controlled riot of invention, with a plot that embraces everything (or so it seems) from pork pies (some on sticks) to man (boy)-made floods, Morning Glory's sweet flutings to ear-crunching accents, incontinent seagulls to all those hairy chins. A laugh on virtually every one of its 180-odd pages
' C
AROUSEL
ALSO BY ANNE FINE:
Published by Corgi Books:
THE BOOK OF THE BANSHEE
THE GRANNY PROJECT
ON THE SUMMERHOUSE STEPS
THE ROAD OF BONES
ROUND BEHIND THE ICE HOUSE
THE STONE MENAGERIE
UP ON CLOUD NINE
Published by Corgi Yearling Books:
BAD DREAMS
CHARM SCHOOL
FROZEN BILLY
THE MORE THE MERRIER
A SHAME TO MISS . . .
Three collections of poetry
PERFECT POEMS FOR
YOUNG READERS
IDEAL POEMS FOR MIDDLE READERS
IRRESISTIBLE POETRY FOR
YOUNG ADULTS
Other books by Anne Fine
For junior readers:
ANGEL OF NITSHILL ROAD
ANNELI THE ART-HATER
BILL'S NEW FROCK
THE CHICKEN GAVE IT TO ME
THE COUNTRY PANCAKE
CRUMMY MUMMY AND ME
DIARY OF A KILLER CAT
GENIE, GENIE, GENIE
HOW TO WRITE REALLY BADLY
IVAN THE TERRIBLE
THE KILLER CAT'S BIRTHDAY BASH
LOUDMOUTH LOUIS
A PACK OF LIARS
STORIES OF JAMIE AND ANGUS
For young people:
FLOUR BABIES
GOGGLE-EYES
MADAME DOUBTFIRE
STEP BY WICKED STEP
THE TULIP TOUCH
VERY DIFFERENT
For adult readers:
ALL BONES AND LIES
FLY IN THE OINTMENT
THE KILLJOY
OUR PRECIOUS LULU
RAKING THE ASHES
TAKING THE DEVIL'S ADVICE
TELLING LIDDY
IN COLD DOMAIN
EATING THINGS
ON STICKS
Anne Fine
Illustrated by Kate Aldous
CORGI YEARLING BOOKS
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Epub ISBN: 9781409012597
Version 1.0
  
EATING THINGS ON STICKS
A CORGI YEARLING BOOK 978 0 440 86937 5
First published in Great Britain by Doubleday, an imprint of Random House Children's Books
A Random House Group Company
Doubleday edition published 2009
Corgi Yearling edition published 2010
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © Anne Fine, 2009
Illustrations copyright © Kate Aldous, 2009
The right of Anne Fine to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
The Random House Group Limited supports the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC), the leading international forest certification organization. All our titles that are printed on Greenpeace-approved FSC-certified paper carry the FSC logo. Our paper procurement policy can be found at
www.rbooks.co.uk/environment
.
Corgi Books are published by Random House Children's Books,
61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA
Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at:
www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
THE RANDOM HOUSE GROUP Limited Reg. No. 954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed in Great Britain by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon,
CR
0 4
TD
For Geoff and Joe, the pioneers
The plan
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!
‘No, no, no, no, no,
no
!' I said. ‘Not to Aunt Susan's! Not for a whole week! No, no, no, no!'
Mum wasn't backing down. ‘Frankly,' she said, ‘I don't believe I have to listen to any complaints from the person who burned our entire house to a crisp.'
I had to defend myself. ‘I did not burn the entire house to a crisp.'
I should have kept my mouth shut. Mum waved an arm around what little was left of our kitchen. ‘Excuse me? Are these walls the cheery colour that they used to be, or are they
black?
I don't recall choosing this nice “charred wood” theme for the cupboards. Is that clean water gushing out of the tap, or some dark dribble of sludge from melted pipes? And aren't we lucky that the sun's still up, because it's not as if, when I flick on this light switch, anything actually
happens
.'
‘Look,' I said for the millionth time, ‘I'm really
sorry
. I didn't
mean
to forget that I was making that toast. I didn't
realize
that I'd left that tea towel lying across the grill. And I did not
deliberately
forget we had a fire blanket.'
‘What's to forget? The thing was hanging on the wall in front of you with
FIRE BLANKET
printed across its case in big red letters. You can
read
, can't you?'
‘Yes,' I said sullenly. ‘I can read. I just didn't
see
it, did I?'
‘Apparently not. So now, when we try to make arrangements to find you somewhere to stay while the house is full of workmen, perhaps you'll stop whining.'
‘I was not whining,' I said huffily. ‘I was just saying that I didn't want to stay with Aunt Susan.'
Mum ticked our other conversations off on her fingers. ‘Or with Aunt Miriam and Uncle Geoffrey. Or with Great-Granny. Or with next door. Or with–'
I interrupted her. ‘Because it's not fair. Ralph gets to go to scout camp.'
‘Ralph was booked in to go to scout camp already. More to the point, Ralph is a scout, and you are not.'
I threw myself on her mercy. ‘Mum, please! Don't send me to Aunt Susan. I couldn't bear a whole week of her ghastly nature walks, and prissy little Titania prancing about in one of her frilly-willy frocks pretending she's a fairy and singing me one of her' – I did my imitation of my cousin Titania's lisp – ‘“thweet little thongs”. Oh, please don't send me. Please!'
‘Harry, there's no one else.'
I had an inspiration. ‘What about Uncle Tristram?'
Mum stared. ‘Tristram? You must be mad. Your Uncle Tristram couldn't look after a cat.'
Mum only said it as a figure of speech. Still, it reminded her of poor old Pusskins and what happened to him, so her face fell. I stood there sensitively for a moment or two before I said,
‘But Uncle Tristram could look after me. Because I can look after myself.'
‘But he won't want you,' Mum explained. ‘It's his week off. He'll have arranged to go away with one of his girlfriends.'

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