Книга - An Elephant in the Garden

An Elephant in the Garden
Michael Morpurgo


A thrilling and moving novel about an extraordinary animal caught up in a very human war, for anyone who loved The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips or The Butterfly Lion…It’s 1945. Elizabeth's father is fighting with the German army on the eastern front. Her mother works at Dresden zoo, where her favourite animal is a young elephant named Marlene. When the zoo director tells her the dangerous animals must be shot to prevent them running amok if the town is bombed, Elizabeth's mother moves Marlene into the back garden to save her… and then the bombs start to fall.Their home destroyed, Elizabeth and her family must flee the bombed-out city and through the wintery landscape, all the while avoiding the Russian troops who are drawing ever closer. It would be hard enough, without an elephant in tow…










An Elephant in the Garden










Michael Morpurgo


















Copyright (#ulink_4d9c2535-b9f2-5722-b866-426ae066bb04)


First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2010

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF



Visit us on the web at www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) Visit Michael Morpurgo at www.michaelmorpurgo.com (http://www.michaelmorpurgo.com)

Text copyright © Michael Morpurgo 2010

Illustrations copyright © Michael Foreman 2010



Michael Morpurgo and Michael Foreman reserve the right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.



All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.



Conditions of Sale

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 consent 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.



HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780007339570

Ebook Edition © MAY 2010 ISBN: 9780007352128

Version 2018-09-05




Dedication (#ulink_0a99613c-0625-50fa-a99d-d1829f00431e)


For Bella, Freddie and Max










Contents


Title Page (#u762e65dd-9fa3-5c84-9a42-d2519996906d)

Copyright (#ud626f686-77ab-5183-8fa3-2399cdfee032)

Dedication (#ulink_a624d34d-09eb-56b8-beb6-1daec895d98b)

Part One Ring of Truth (#u6491fc6d-0e11-545c-ba79-0aa3359175d2)

1. (#u7a00d961-4a8c-59e3-a27e-63813a107aa8)

2. (#u9b358fdc-a212-5109-a4ab-cb10ca79b2ce)

3. (#u696ba750-aa0a-50e0-89e2-55a6e1e269c3)

Part Two Ring of Fire (#ua129c1a1-beaa-5645-a90b-6a11f81c2752)

1. (#u3b1f9477-f34f-545f-a056-053d87f99ea4)

2. (#u0de9f078-fa49-5564-988c-7673b9467912)

3. (#ub82e0060-1055-5d2a-bc93-8a613beb7ccc)

Part Three Ring of Steel (#uf05ad977-2de7-5627-8662-3b9a0dff55b1)

1. (#u01e640ee-4eb0-572a-9d49-914664fc7abc)

2. (#u86197616-998c-5589-8a25-3d558fcd7fe3)

3. (#uc0e3e07f-955b-5893-8130-e4fc22e113f7)

Part Four Ring of Bells (#uf87af5a4-1cbd-5ffa-bb04-8e183a6d7ae5)

1. (#u6c689dcd-5ccf-5a6c-94a2-fba11aeb5908)

2. (#u9c3d5e00-0cf4-5df1-83b2-6e282a1067e5)

3. (#ue20ec81c-417a-5c24-bdba-92dd03872806)

About the Author (#ulink_d765be9f-8e37-533a-97a8-b425025c8ec7)

About the Publisher (#ufdd2c8f3-68d2-5e50-a80c-99190ff791a0)



Part One Ring of Truth (#ulink_f52f6e8e-e582-5984-a953-edac6d9e1592)




1. (#ulink_e71539c3-552b-53d8-98dd-db5cdfca07ee)







TO TELL THE TRUTH, I DON’T THINK LIZZIE WOULD EVER HAVE told us her elephant story at all, if Karl had not been called Karl.

Maybe I’d better explain.

I’m a nurse. I was working part-time in an old people’s nursing home just down the road from where we live. It was part-time because I wanted to be home for Karl, my nine-year-old son. There were just the two of us, so I needed to be there to see him off to school, and be there for him when he got back. But sometimes, at weekends, they asked me to do overtime.

I couldn’t always say no – we all of us had to take our turn to do weekend duties – and if I’m honest, the money helped. So at weekends, if Karl hadn’t got anywhere else to go, or anyone else to look after him, they let me bring him into work with me.

I was a bit worried about it at first – whether anyone would mind, how he’d get on with all the old folks – but he loved it, and as it turned out, so did they. For a start, he had the whole park to play around in. Sometimes he’d bring a few friends. They could climb the trees, kick a football about, whizz around on their mountain bikes. As for the old folk, the children’s visits became quite a feature of their weekends, something for them to look forward to. They would gather around the sitting-room windows to watch them, often for hours on end. And when it was raining, Karl and his friends used to come inside and play chess with them, or watch a film on the television.

Then, just a couple of weeks ago, on the Friday night, it snowed, and snowed hard. I had to go to work at the nursing home the next day – I was on morning shifts that weekend – and so Karl had to come too. But he didn’t mind, not one bit. He brought half a dozen of his friends along with him. They were going tobogganing in the park, they said. They didn’t have a toboggan between them. They simply brought along anything that would slide – plastic sacks, surfboards, even a rubber ring. As it turned out, bottoms worked just as well as anything else. The nursing home was loud with laughter that morning as the old folks watched them gallivanting out there in the snow. In time, the tobogganing degenerated into a snowball fight, which the old folks seemed to be enjoying as much as Karl and his friends were. I was busy most of the morning, but the last time I looked out of the window I saw that, much to everyone’s delight, Karl and his friends were busy building a giant snowman right outside the sitting-room window.

So I was taken completely by surprise when I walked into Lizzie’s room a few minutes later and found Karl sitting there at her bedside in his hat and his coat, the two of them chatting away like old friends.

“Ah, so there you are,” Lizzie said, beckoning me in. “You did not tell me you had a son. And he is called Karl! I can hardly believe it. And he looks like him too. The likeness, it is extraordinary, amazing. I have told him also about the elephant in the garden, and he believes me.” She wagged her finger at me. “You do not believe me. I know this. No one in this place believes me, but Karl does.”

I hustled Karl out of the room, and away down the corridor, ticking him off soundly for wandering into Lizzie’s room like that, uninvited. Thinking back, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. Karl was always wandering off. What did surprise me, though, was how furious he was with me.

“She was just going to tell me about her elephant,” he protested loudly, tugging at my hand, trying to break away from me.

“There isn’t any elephant, Karl,” I told him. “She imagines things. Old people often do that. They get a bit mixed-up in the head sometimes, that’s all. Now come along, for goodness’ sake.”

It wasn’t until we were back home that afternoon that I had a chance to sit Karl down and explain all about Lizzie, and her elephant story. I told him I knew from her records that Lizzie was eighty-two years old. She had been in the nursing home for nearly a month, so we had got to know one another’s little ways quite well already. She could be a little prickly, and even cantankerous with the other nurses sometimes. But with me, I said, she was considerate and polite, and quite co-operative – well, mostly. Even with me, though, she could become rather obstinate from time to time, especially when it came to eating the food that I put in front of her. She wouldn’t drink enough either, no matter how much I tried to encourage her.

Karl kept asking me more and more questions about her. “How long has she been in the nursing home?” “What’s the matter with her?” “Why’s she in bed in her room, and not with the others?” He wanted to know everything, so I told him everything…

…how she and I had taken a particular shine to one another, how she was very direct, to the point of bluntness sometimes, and how I liked that. She’d told me once, on the very first day she came into the nursing home, “I might as well be honest with you. I do not like being in here, not one bit. But since I am, and since we shall be seeing rather a lot of one another, then you may call me Lizzie.”

So that’s what I did. To all the other nurses she was Elizabeth, but to me she was Lizzie. She slept a lot, listened to the radio, and she read books, lots of books. She didn’t like to be interrupted when she was reading, even when I had to give her some medication. She especially loved detective stories. She told me once, rather proudly, that she had read every book that Agatha Christie had ever written.

The doctor, I told Karl, thought she couldn’t have eaten properly for weeks, maybe months, before she came in. And that’s certainly what she looked like when I first saw her, so shrivelled and weak and vulnerable, her skin pale and paper-thin over her cheekbones, her hair creamy white against the pillows. Yet even then I could see there was something very unusual, very spirited about her – the steely look in her eye, the sudden smile that lit up her whole face. I knew nothing of her life – no relatives came to see her. She seemed to be entirely alone in the world.

“She’s a bit like Gran,” I told Karl, trying to explain her state of mind to him as best I could. “You know, like a lot of old people, a bit muddled and forgetful – like when she starts up about her elephant. She’s goes on about it all the time, not just to me, to everyone. ‘There was an elephant in the garden, you know,’ she says. It’s all nonsense, Karl, I promise you.”

“You don’t know,” Karl said, still angry at me. “And anyway, I don’t care what you say. I think it’s true what she told me about the elephant. She’s not fibbing, she’s not making it up, I know she isn’t. I can tell.”

“How can you tell?” I asked him.

“Because I tell fibs sometimes, so I can always tell when someone else is, and she’s not. And she’s not muddled either, like Gran is. If she says she had an elephant in her garden, then she did.”

I didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to make him any more cross with me than he already was, so I said nothing. But I lay awake that night wondering if Karl could possibly be right. The more I thought about it, the more I began to think that maybe there was a ring of truth about Lizzie’s elephant.

The next morning at work, with Karl and his friends cavorting about in the snow, I was sorely tempted to go in and ask Lizzie about her elephant, but it never seemed to be the right moment. It was best not to probe, not to intrude, I thought. She always seemed to me to be a very private person, happy enough in her own silence. We had got used to one another, and I think both of us felt comfortable together. I didn’t want to spoil that. As I went into her room I decided that if she brought up the elephant again, then I would ask her. But she never did. She asked about Karl though. She wanted to know all about him. She particularly wanted to know when he would be coming in again to see her. She said she had something very unusual, very special to show him. She seemed very excited about it, but told me not to tell him. She wanted it to be a surprise, she said.

I noticed then she hadn’t drunk anything again from her glass of water, and told her off gently, which she was quite used to by now. I walked past the end of the bed to close her window, tutting at her reproachfully. “Lizzie, you are so naughty about your water,” I told her. But I could tell she wasn’t listening to me at all.

“Do you mind leaving the window open, dear?” she said. “I like the cold. I like to feel the fresh air on my face. It cools me. This place is rather overheated. I think it is a dreadful waste of money.” I did as she asked, and she thanked me – her manners were always meticulous. She was gazing out of the window now at the children. “Your little Karl, he loves the snow, I think. I look at him out there, and I see my brother. It was snowing that day too…” She paused, then went on. “On the radio this morning, dear, I thought I heard them say that it is February the thirteenth today. Did I hear right?”

I checked my mobile phone to confirm it.

“Will your little Karl come in to see me today, do you think?” she asked again. She seemed to be quite anxious about it. “I do hope so. I should like to show him…I think he would be interested.”






“I’m sure he will,” I told her. But I wasn’t sure at all. I knew full well Karl wanted to find out more about her elephant story, but it looked to me as if he was having far too much fun in the snow outside. Lizzie said nothing more about it, as I washed her, and then arranged her pillows and made her comfortable again. She loved me to take my time brushing her hair. It was while I was doing this that there was a knock on the door. To my great relief, and to her obvious delight, it was Karl. He came in breathless, and sat down at once beside her, his face glowing, snow all over his coat, still in his hair. She reached out, brushing it away, then touching his cheek with the tips of her fingers. “Cold,” she said. “It was cold on February the thirteenth, February the thirteenth…” Her mind seemed to be wandering.

“Your elephant, the elephant in the garden. You were going to tell me about your elephant, remember?” Karl said.

That was when I noticed that Lizzie was becoming quite tearful and upset. I thought perhaps Karl should go. “He can come back later, another time,” I told her.

“No.” She was very insistent that we stayed, that she wanted us to stay, that she had something she needed to tell us.

So I pulled up another chair, and sat down beside them. “What is it, Lizzie? Is there something about February the thirteenth that’s especially important to you?” I asked her.

She turned her head away from me, unable to control or disguise the tremor in her voice. “It was this day that changed my life for ever,” she said. I reached out and took her hand in mine. Her grip was weak, but it was enough to let me know that she really did want us to stay. She was looking out of the window, and pointing now.

“Look, do you see? Do you hear? The wind is blowing through the trees. The branches, they are shaking. Are they frightened of the wind, do you think? Little Karli said it that day, that the trees were frightened of the wind, that they wanted to run away, but they couldn’t. We could, he said, but they couldn’t. He was very sad about it.” She smiled at Karl. “Karli was my little brother, and you remind me so much of him. And this makes me happy, that you are here, I mean; and on this day too, so that I can tell you my story, our story, Karli’s story and mine. But it makes me sad also. On February the thirteenth I am always sad. The wind in the trees, it makes me remember.”

I had noticed before that she spoke English in a strange way, pronouncing her words carefully, too correctly, and in proper sentences. Her name might have been English, but I had always thought she might be Dutch, or Scandinavian, or German perhaps. “It was a hot wind, a scalding wind,” she went on. “I do not believe in hell, nor heaven come to that. But if you can imagine it, it was like a wind from the fires of hell. I thought we would burn alive, all of us.”

“But you said it was in February,” Karl interrupted. I frowned at him, but Lizzie didn’t seem to mind at all. “That’s in wintertime, isn’t it?” Karl went on. “I mean, where were you living? Africa or somewhere?”

“No. It wasn’t in Africa. Didn’t I tell you this before? I think I did.” She was suddenly looking a little unsure of herself. “There was an elephant in the garden, you see. No, honestly there was. And she liked potatoes, lots of potatoes.” I think my wry smile must have betrayed me. “You still do not believe me, do you? Well, I cannot say that I blame you. I expect you and all the other nurses think I am just a dotty old bat, a bit loopy, off my rocker, as you say. It is quite true that my bits and pieces do not work so well any more – which, I suppose, is why I am in here, isn’t it? My legs will not do what I tell them sometimes, and even my heart does not beat like it should. It skips and flutters. It makes up its own rhythm as it goes along, which makes me feel dizzy, and this is not at all convenient for me. But I can tell you for certain and for sure, that my mind is as sound as a bell, sharp as a razor. So when I say there was an elephant in the garden, there really was. There is nothing wrong with my memory, nothing at all.”

“I don’t think you’re batty at all,” said Karl. “Or loopy.”

“That is very kind of you to say so, Karl. You and I shall be good friends. But I have to admit that when I come to think of it, I cannot remember much about yesterday, nor even what I had for breakfast this morning. But I promise you I can remember just how it was when I was young. I remember the important things, the things that matter. It is as if I wrote them down in my mind, so that I should not forget. So I remember very well – it was on the evening of my sixteenth birthday – that I looked out of the window, and saw her. At first she just looked like a big dark shadow, but then the shadow moved, and I looked again. There was no doubt about it. She was an elephant, quite definitely an elephant. I did not know it at the time, of course, but this elephant in our garden was going to change my life for ever, change all our lives in my family. And you might say she was going to save all our lives also.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/michael-morpurgo/an-elephant-in-the-garden/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.