Black Swan Green
Black Swan Green
“OPEN UP!’ holler door knockers. ‘OR I’LL BLOW YOUR HOUSE DOWN!’ Bells’re shyer. Bells’re ‘Hello? Anyone home?’ The vicarage had a knocker and a bell and I’d tried both, but still nobody answered. I waited. Perhaps the vicar was putting his quill in his inkpot, huffing, ‘Gracious, three o’clock already?’ I pressed my ear to the door but the big old house gave nothing away. Sunshine flooded the thirsty lawn, flowers blazed, trees drowsed in the breeze. A dusty Volvo estate sat in the garage needi...ng a wash and wax. (Volvos’re the only famous Swedish thing ’cept for ABBA. Volvos’ve got roll-bars so you don’t get Garibaldi-biscuited if a juggernaut slams you down a motorway embankment.) I was half hoping nobody’d answer. The vicarage’s a serious place, the opposite of where kids should be. But when I’d crept here under cover of darkness last week, an envelope’d been Sellotaped over the letter box. FOR THE ATTENTION OF ELIOT BOLIVAR, POET. Inside was a short letter written in lilac ink on slate-grey paper.MoreLess
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