Lynne Banks - The Indian in the Cupboard Trilogy

These novels are entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in them are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

HarperCollins Children’s Books

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This three-in-one edition first published by Collins 1993

Text copyright © Lynne Reid Banks 1981, 1986, 1989

Lynne Reid Banks asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN:9780006749523

Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007405022

Version: 2016–10–28

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

The Indian in the Cupboard

Dedication

1: Birthday Presents

2: The Door is Shut

3: Thirty Scalps

4: The Great Outdoors

5: Tommy

6: The Chief is Dead, Long Live the Chief

7: Uninvited Brothers

8: Cowboy!

9: Shooting Match

10: Breakfast Truce

11: School

12: Trouble with Authority

13: Art and Accusation

14: The Fateful Arrow

15: Underfloor Adventure

16: Brothers

Return of the Indian

Dedication

1: A Defeat

2: A Victory

3: The Way it Began

4: The Sweet Taste of Triumph

5: From Dangerous Times

6: Going for Help

7: Matron

8: The Operation

9: A Good Luck Piece

10: Boone’s Brainwave

11: Target Omri!

12: The Troops

13: A Death and a Healing

14: Red Men, Red Coats

15: Corporal Fickits

16: If’n Ya Wanna Go Back …

17: As Far as You Can Go

18: Algonquin

19: The Terror of the Battle

20: Invasion

21: Rout of the Skinheads

Epilogue: By the Fire

The Secret of the Indian

Dedication

1: A Shocking Homecoming

2: Modest Heroes

3: How It All Started

4: Dead in the Night

5: Patrick Goes Back

6: A New Insider

7: Patrick in Boone-land

8: A Heart Stops Beating

9: Tasmin Drives a Bargain

10: A Rough Ride

11: Ruby Lou

12: Caught Red-Handed

13: Mr Johnson Smells a Rat

14: A Strange Yellow Sky

15: Interrogation

16: Panic

17: The Big Blow

18: Red Satin

Epilogue: At a Wedding

Keep Reading

Also by the Author

About the Author

About the Publisher

For Omri – Who else?

It was not that Omri didn’t appreciate Patrick’s birthday present to him. Far from it. He was really very grateful – sort of. It was, without a doubt, very kind of Patrick to give Omri anything at all, let alone a secondhand plastic Red Indian which he himself had finished with.

The trouble was, though, that Omri was getting a little fed up with small plastic figures, of which he had loads. Biscuit-tinsful, probably three or four if they were all put away at the same time, which they never were because most of the time they were scattered about in the bathroom, the loft, the kitchen, the breakfast-room, not to mention Omri’s bedroom and the garden. The compost heap was full of soldiers which, over several autumns, had been raked up with the leaves by Omri’s mother, who was rather careless about such things.

Omri and Patrick had spent many hours together playing with their joint collections of plastic toys. But now they’d had about enough of them, at least for the moment, and that was why, when Patrick brought his present to school on Omri’s birthday, Omri was disappointed. He tried not to show it, but he was.

“Do you really like him?” asked Patrick as Omri stood silently with the Indian in his hand.

“Yes, he’s fantastic,” said Omri in only a slightly flattish voice. “I haven’t got an Indian.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t got any cowboys either.”

“Nor have I. That’s why I couldn’t play anything with him.”

Omri opened his mouth to say, “I won’t be able to either,” but, thinking that might hurt Patrick’s feelings, he said nothing, put the Indian in his pocket and forgot about it.

After school there was a family tea, and all the excitement of his presents from his parents and his two older brothers. He was given his dearest wish – a skateboard complete with kick-board and cryptonic wheels from his mum and dad, and from his eldest brother, Adiel, a helmet. Gillon, his other brother, hadn’t bought him anything because he had no money (his pocket-money had been stopped some time ago in connection with a very unfortunate accident involving their father’s bicycle). So when Gillon’s turn came to give Omri a present, Omri was very surprised when a large parcel was put before him, untidily wrapped in brown paper and string.

“What is it?”

“Have a look. I found it in the alley.”

The alley was a narrow passage that ran along the bottom of the garden where the dustbins stood. The three boys used to play there sometimes, and occasionally found treasures that other – perhaps richer – neighbours had thrown away. So Omri was quite excited as he tore off the paper.

Inside was a small white metal cupboard with a mirror in the door, the kind you see over the basin in old-fashioned bathrooms.

You might suppose Omri would once again be disappointed, because the cupboard was fairly plain and, except for a shelf, completely empty, but oddly enough he was very pleased with it. He loved cupboards of any sort because of the fun of keeping things in them. He was not a very tidy boy in general, but he did like arranging things in cupboards and drawers and then opening them later and finding them just as he’d left them.

“I do wish it locked,” he said.

“You might say thank you before you start complaining,” said Gillon.

“It’s got a keyhole,” said their mother. “And I’ve got a whole boxful of keys. Why don’t you try the smaller ones and see if any of them fit?”

Most of the keys were much too big, but there were half a dozen that were about the right size. All but one of these were very ordinary. The un-ordinary one was the most interesting key in the whole collection, small with a complicated lock-part and a fancy top. A narrow strip of red satin ribbon was looped through one of its curly openings. Omri saved that key for last.