wwwLookman painting the house and writing
Review ISBN 978 1 906710 071
“…this well-written book that is guaranteed to keep young eyes glued to the pages. I recommend Henri and the Alien as a “must read” for children who wish to share the trip toNetherworld with Henri, her classmates, Eanie Meanie and Geegle. After reading this book from the beginning to the end, they will eagerly be awaiting the sequel.” Review by Bettie Corbin Tucker.
Henri and the Alien by Lookman for Christmas magnify
HENRI’S Life
Henrietta really liked being called Henri. She compared her life with her friend Emily at her junior school.
I suppose my parents are rather strange. I never eat the same as my parents. Instead, I eat what they call special food for kids, like porridge, never a chip or a hamburger like other children. They never go to my parents’ evenings, or to my school sport’s days. We’ve no TVand rarely listened to the radio. I’m pleased my parents are always completely absorbed by each other. They’re a nice married couple.
However, Henri had upset them and feared them. She found herself sitting on her bed – grounded again. Some things they said earlier in the evening set her mind to query who she was. She wondered. What reward do my parents expect for looking after me? Nobody knew then how much this would change everyone else’s life in the whole world. All because of a few misplaced words. Not to forget the external involvement of an Alien called Eanie Meanie and Geegle the trickster from another dimension.
It all began when her father Humphrey Fitzgrumpy a high powered salesman returned late from work less than an hour before that evening. He turned his brass key in the front door of 13, Zig Zag Road. His dark matt hair brushed the hall light, setting it angrily swinging. Meanwhile, Henri ate her evening meal of wheatabix in her green plastic bowl, with dog written on the side. She sat busily finishing her school homework on the small crowded kitchen table. Meanwhile, her tanned, pampered mother Ada Fitzgrumpy, loudly drummed her fingers on the outer margins of Henri’s table. It set her daughter’s nerves on edge. Her mother looked forward eagerly waiting for the object of her adoration Mr. Fritzgrumpy, Henri’s father. Her mother ran out to greet him as he carefully hung his coat on a peg in the hallway.
She said. “Hello Dearest, you’re late!”
“I’m sorry dear.” His square greying moustache jumped about on his top lip. “The train was delayed and the manager had another sales meeting.”
“I’m sorry you’re unsettled. If you like, we can put the girl to bed early again. Then have a quiet evening together.” She eagerly sought to please him.
“Do you know? All we talked about at the meeting was his fishing trip last summer. He brought those holiday photos again!”
“Don’t worry dearest. Your dinner’s ready waiting in the oven, your slippers are warming by the fire, and I’ve got those special cream cakes you like so much.” She tickled him under his chin.
They both walked together through the door into the crowded kitchen, greeted by the aroma of a well-cooked meal. Henri looked up from the table to acknowledge them, as smoke began belching out of the oven.
“Useless girl!” Her mother shouted. “Didn’t you see your father’s food burning?”
“No Mum.” Henri frowned looking up from the table.
“What’s this hopeless girl done now?” Her father scowled getting ever more irritated.
“Hello Dad! I’m sorry. I didn’t notice…” Henri begged with dismayed reddening eyes and recoiled into her chair.
“You should have! you’ll be sorry!” He vented his frustration on his daughter, the only person deserving to be the household’s whipping boy.
“No Dad!” Henri’s voice quivered while observing her fathers darkening face and squeezing her dampening eyes. “Not the empty coal cellar again! It’s dark and damp down there.” Teary-eyed she appealed, thinking of great hairy spiders and the dank mattress left on the floor for her.
“We shouldn’t have taken this useless girl in!” Her mother complained clinging to Henri’s father, while caressing his shoulder. “All the food she’s eaten and the cost us! over the years.”
“You’re may be right dearest! We should’ve left her on the doorstep.” Her stooping father inspected his burnt meal with a fork.
“Well, what about the reward we were promised?” Henri’s mother pouted.
“You’re right again! Over the last ten years, we’ve never seen a penny of it yet! Send the girl to bed out of my sight please, before I burst!” He sighed inspecting his charred boiled potatoes.
“HENRI, go to bed, at once!” Her mother ordered.
“Mum-m, ple-ease!”
“BED!”
Henri hastily gathered her books and pencils into her school bag, fearing her mother’s bad temper. She crawled upstairs dragging her feet, feeling dejected, up to her small lonesome bedroom.
Henri slumped miserably on her lumpy bed thinking I’ve been sent early to bed again! In fact, she realised as the corner of her eyes moistened. I’ve hardly ever had an evening in my entire life that I went to bed at the allotted time. She wondered. What reward do my parents expect from me? She did all she could. I do all the hoovering, all the dusting, all the washing, all the ironing, and even mow dad’s lawns. Without housework to do, I can’t understand how my other school friends fill their spare time after school. Henri shook her head, thinking what does left on the doorstep mean. It doesn’t make sense to me! They must mean, that’s where the stork left me when I was born.
Later that evening, her mother violently swung open her bedroom door. To Henri’s surprise, an old threadbare coat flew through the door towards her. Plomp! Dust flew in every direction across her neat-emulsioned bedroom and settled between Henri’s many precious curiosities. She treasured things other people discarded, like broken toys and ornaments.
“This coat’s your rubbish!” Her mother shouted. “I DON’T WANT IT IN MY WARDROBE ANYMORE!”
—-—AVAILABLE for CHRISTMAS ON-LINE AT --—-
Amazon UK
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Barnes & Noble
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