Jenny Nimmo - Henry and the Guardians of the Lost

‘You can see your cousin when . . .’ Pearl hesitated. ‘When all this is over.’

‘All what? Charlie’s my best friend, and I only see him at weekends.’

Pearl ignored him. ‘Pack everything you might need: pyjamas, wash-bag, clean underwear . . .’ She reeled off a list. Henry wondered how he was going to fit it all in.

Enkidu, Henry’s cat, was asleep on his bed.

‘We’re going away,’ Henry told his large, exceptionally fluffy friend. ‘So who’s going to look after you?’

Enkidu didn’t appear to be concerned. He was snoring.

Henry began to throw things into his bag, while Pearl shouted from her room. ‘Hurry, hurry, hurry!’ And then she called, ‘Henry, take something you love.’

Henry looked at Enkidu. ‘OK,’ he called back.

Throwing stuff out of his bag, he picked up Enkidu and put him in the bag. Enkidu didn’t mind. He didn’t even wake up. But he stopped snoring. If he hadn’t, things might have turned out very differently.

Henry zipped up the bag, leaving a tiny gap at the end to give the cat some air.

Pearl was already thumping down the stairs. Henry ran after her. He grabbed his anorak from the hallstand as Pearl opened the front door. ‘Come on, come on!’ she said.

‘Can’t you tell me where we’re going?’ Henry complained.

‘Somewhere safe,’ Pearl murmured. ‘It’s complicated.’

But I was safe here, wasn’t I? Henry thought.

Just in time, Pearl remembered to turn off the oven. She didn’t bother to remove the cake. When they were both outside Pearl locked the front door. Henry saw that her hands were shaking. A bad sign; Henry thought Pearl was a risky driver at the best of times. He waited while she backed the car out of the lean-to beside the house.

‘Hop in!’ called Pearl when she had manoeuvred on to the lane.

Henry put his bag carefully on to the back seat, then jumped in beside his aunt. He noticed that Pearl had only brought a handbag. There was no sign of anything for her overnight things.

‘Aren’t you –?’ Henry began.

‘Hold tight,’ said Pearl.

They swooped down the muddy lane and bounced on to the wet road. After ten minutes they turned off on to a narrow track. Henry had never gone this way before. Half an hour later they emerged on to a busy main road. On and on they went, through villages and small towns, over bleak brown moors and narrow bridges, through tunnels and around forests. The light began to fade and evening mists drifted up from the damp fields.

‘You said you would tell me why we’re doing this.’ Henry’s head felt heavy and he could hardly keep his eyes open.

Pearl took a breath. ‘People were coming.’ Her voice became deep and grave. ‘Someone talked about you, Henry. We don’t know who, it could have been quite accidental. But anyway, these . . . these beasts got wind of you, who you are and how you haven’t grown. And they would have taken you, Henry, for . . .’ her hands tensed on the wheel, ‘who knows what. But certainly I couldn’t have stopped them.’

Henry shivered. He was suddenly wide awake. ‘The yellow letter,’ he said. ‘It was a warning.’

‘Yes, from Treasure. She tried to ring but our phone was out of order, and we don’t get a mobile signal in our faraway part of the world.’

‘But why, Auntie Pearl? Why were they so determined to take me?’

She took a moment to reply, and then she said quietly, ‘They believe that you, and others like you, hold the key to obtaining the greatest prize on earth.’

‘And what’s that?’ asked Henry, somehow dreading the answer.

‘I think you can guess,’ his aunt said gravely. ‘The secret of eternal youth.’

‘Because I haven’t grown,’ Henry whispered.

They drove in silence for a while, and his mind raced so fast he began to feel dizzy. A loud noise from his stomach distracted him. He thought of the chocolate cake left in the oven. ‘Did you bring sandwiches?’ he asked, without much hope. ‘Or biscuits?’

Pearl shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Henry.’

Henry tried not to think about food, but he couldn’t help thinking of the chocolate cake, with loads of chocolate icing on the top. He could even taste it.

They drove through a dark, dense pine forest, emerging, at last, on to a wide road where lights twinkled in the distance.

‘There’ll be somewhere to eat,’ Pearl said cheerfully.

And there was. Halfway down the high street of a friendly-looking village they found a small, bright cafe with steamy windows and red checked tablecloths.

Henry tried to forget the people that were coming to get him, while he concentrated on his food. He had almost finished his large plate of sausages, chips and beans when he suddenly remembered his cat.

‘Enkidu!’ he cried, dropping his fork.

‘He’ll be fine,’ said Pearl, in a matter-of-fact voice.

‘He’s in the car,’ said Henry, ‘in my bag.’

‘What?’ Pearl scrunched up her eyes. ‘How could you be so stupid?’

‘You told me to bring something I loved,’ said Henry defiantly.

Pearl gave a loud sigh of exasperation. She put her keys on the table. ‘You’d better let him out. He’ll want to go for a pee.’

It sounded as if Pearl hoped Enkidu would go off and not return. Henry grabbed his remaining sausage and dashed outside. Enkidu ate the sausage gratefully, had a pee in a muddy verge, covered it with leaves and happily jumped back into the car.

Henry was about to run back into the cafe when Pearl came out of the door. ‘In the car, Henry,’ she said. ‘We must keep going.’

Henry hadn’t finished all his chips, but Pearl looked so stern, he didn’t like to mention it.

They drove through the darkness, their headlights shining on long, winter grass and high, wild hedges. On and on.

‘How d’you know where to go, Auntie Pearl?’ Henry’s voice sounded small and fearful.

‘A map in my head,’ she said. ‘My sister put it there.’ And there was the ghost of a smile in her voice. ‘We’re looking for an arch with carvings on it, birds and beasts and flowers and things.’

Henry became aware of a wall beside them. Not the usual kind of wall, but a screen of trees, laced with stone. A wall that vanished now and then, like a memory, a dream, a wall that could never be touched, a wall that would never let you through. And, all at once, there was the arch that would allow them into a place that had appeared to be forbidden.

‘Not birds and beasts,’ Henry whispered. For the carvings in the pale stone pillars of the arch were not birds, they were the bones of sad, fragile creatures that perhaps no longer existed.

‘It’s nearly midnight,’ said Pearl. ‘We’re just in time.’

‘Midnight already?’ Henry sat up very straight in his seat. Pearl accelerated a little, as though she wanted to get through the arch as soon as possible. They passed under the big, ghostly stones and emerged into total darkness.

The engine stopped. The headlights went out. Perhaps they were not in the car at all, for Henry couldn’t feel the rim of his seat, or his safety belt. He could hardly breathe. The darkness all about them was so dense and so black it seemed to smother them.

Enkidu growled.

Henry reached for Pearl’s hand. He could feel nothing.

‘It’ll be all right, Henry.’ Her voice came from a long way away.

Slowly the impenetrable darkness began to lighten. The smothering feeling lifted and Henry could hear the reassuring purr of the engine. They were moving again, and as they moved a peculiar thing happened. Ahead of them the sun began to rise; higher and higher, faster and faster. The night clouds melted away, leaving the sky a clear ice-blue.