The Mystery of the Cupboard

The Mystery of the Cupboard

Lynne Reid Banks

Language: English

Pages: 256

ISBN: 0380720132

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


In the fourth book in Bank's acclaimed INDIAN IN THE CUPBOARD saga, Omri and his family move to an old farmhouse, where he finds an ancient notebook that reveals a family secret-and the mysterious origins of his magical cupboard.

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Little Lucy

Terrible Tudors (Horrible Histories)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fell? All those people — she’d be trampled—” “She won’t fall,” I said. “I promise you! Maria, let her do it! It’s something she’ll never forget — the end of this terrible war — a day of triumph and joy! Don’t make her watch it all tamely from a pavement - let her be part of it!” “But Jessie, she’s not even eight years old! What will people think?” I thought I’d lost. But suddenly to my astonishment, Matthew stepped in. “Yes!” he said. I’ll never forget it! The way he spoke — what a man! Such

“Of course it’s not ‘her’, Else,” said the older man patiently. “How could it be ‘her’? She was on her last legs thirty years ago, don’t you remember?” “Oh… Oh, yes. Of course. I remember now. Poor old duck. I didn’t half cry after she sent us back that last time, knowing we’d never see her again…” She gave a sentimental sniff. “Well, but who’s this one, then?” she asked sharply, pointing again at Omri. “And where’s Jenny and the sergeant? And that thievin’ little tyke, what was his name—”

her a couple of days after the burglary, all muddy and bedraggled, and she hugged it and cried over it, and forgot for the moment that everything valuable had gone. It was a bit of Matt for her to treasure.” Omri felt the sweet fresh air going down into his lungs as he breathed deeply. Of course. Of course. That was it - that was what he’d been trying to remember! His mother had told him - long ago, when he’d first had the key — that the jewel case had fallen to pieces! If she knew that, she

Charlotte singing. The chance of actually meeting her. The relief of knowing that he had not interfered — or rather, that the interference he’d intended hadn’t changed anything. His gratitude to Patrick for being so unexpectedly sensible. He decided he wouldn’t. Those things were more important than earrings. He felt sorry his mother wouldn’t have them, though. But then, when he thought about it, he decided she’d have looked funny in them. She only wore silver and fun stuff. Glittery real jewels

impossible. His grandmother had died in the bombing of London in World War Two, when his own mother was only a few months old. By 1950 she would have been dead for eight years. Anyway, even though this house had been owned by some distant cousin, any connection between it and his grandmother was impossible. She had lived in south London all her short life. His mother had told Omri that the only place his grandmother’d ever visited out of London was Frinton, a seaside place where her sailor

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