Read Frozen Billy Online

Authors: Anne Fine

Frozen Billy

Table of Contents
Will had perched himself on the chair at the end of the table. He sat stiffly, tipping his head from one side to the other in the same way that Uncle Len makes Frozen Billy's head move when he's asking him a question. And Will had somehow made his mouth look big and square, and his eyes round and marble hard, like the dummy's . . .
Clarrie and Will live with their Uncle Len, a ventriloquist in the nearby music hall. But though Len loves his act almost as much as he loves his beer, Top Billing is out of his grasp until Will thinks up a way to double the drama . . .
By Anne Fine, published by Corgi Yearling Books:
BAD DREAMS
CHARM SCHOOL
FROZEN BILLY
THE MORE THE MERRIER
Published in hardback by Doubleday:
THE ROAD OF BONES
Published by Corgi Books:
THE BOOK OF THE BANSHEE
THE GRANNY PROJECT
ON THE SUMMERHOUSE STEPS
ROUND BEHIND THE ICE HOUSE
UP ON CLOUD NINE
A SHAME TO MISS . . .
Three collections of poetry
Perfect poems for young readers
Ideal poems for middle readers
Irresistible poetry for young adults
Other books by Anne Fine:
For junior readers:
THE ANGEL OF NITSHILL ROAD
ANNELI THE ART-HATER
BILL'S NEW FROCK
THE CHICKEN GAVE IT TO ME
THE COUNTRY PANCAKE
CRUMMY MUMMY AND ME
GENIE, GENIE, GENIE
HOW TO WRITE REALLY BADLY
LOUDMOUTH LOUIS
A PACK OF LIARS
For young people:
FLOUR BABIES
GOGGLE-EYES
MADAME DOUBTFIRE
STEP BY WICKED STEP
THE STONE MENAGERIE
THE TULIP TOUCH
VERY DIFFERENT
For adult readers:
ALL BONES AND LIES
THE KILLJOY
RAKING THE ASHES
TAKING THE DEVIL'S ADVICE
TELLING LIDDY
FROZEN BILLY
Anne Fine
Illustrated by Georgina McBain
CORGI YEARLING BOOKS
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Epub ISBN: 9781409012986
Version 1.0
  
CORGI YEARLING BOOKS
FROZEN BILLY
ACORGI YEARLING BOOK 978 0 440 86630 5
First published in Great Britain by Doubleday, an imprint of Random House Children's Books
Doubleday edition published 2004
Corgi Yearling edition published 2006
5 7 9 10 8 6
Copyright © Anne Fine, 2004
Illustrations copyright © Georgina McBain, 2004
The right of Anne Fine to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
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Random House Children's Books,
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Cox & W man Ltd, Reading, Berkshir
For Cordelia and Russell
I found the notebooks again
today, and read them through
.
The First Notebook
I
hated
Frozen Billy. I hated everything about him. I hated him even more than Will did, if that's possible. I hated his painted staring wooden eyes and the way his eyelids clicked when Uncle Len pulled the string inside his back, to make them blink. I hated his long thin legs, like dangling rods. I hated his bright red wooden mouth, clacked shut or gaping open as square and wide as the opening in a pillar box.
But most of all, I suppose, I hated his chirpy, over-confident voice.
You think that sounds mad, I expect. Hate a doll's voice? A wooden doll can't speak.
But Uncle Len is a ventriloquist. Oh, you never see his lips move, but that's because you're too busy staring at Billy sitting on his knee, blinking, and opening and shutting his mouth, and chatting, chatting – forever chatting.
I never minded him when I was little. I'm teased about the time I dared stamp my foot and scowl at Uncle Len. ‘Make Wooden Billy speak!'
‘Not Wooden Billy,' Uncle Len corrected me. He tapped the rusty tin label screwed along one side of the carrying box. ‘See? It says here. His name is Frozen Billy.'
Will pointed to the label on the other side. ‘And Still Lucy?'
‘Yes.' Uncle Len ran a fingertip over the matching strip of tin on which
STILL LUCY
was painted in tiny white letters. He sighed. ‘And if she'd been hanging on the same hook as Frozen Billy on the back of that Curiosity Shop door, I'd have a double act to send me straight to the Top of the Bill.'
He must have said it dozens of times over the years – usually when he was inspecting a fresh hole in his boot or counting his last few pennies. ‘If I could only find Still Lucy, I'd be set fair for fortune.'
Mother would scold him. ‘Come, now! You know as well as I do, Len, a man makes his own fortune.'
We all knew she was thinking of our father. He's in Australia, on his most important job yet, surveying a road through the outback, and saving every farthing (if they have farthings in Australia) to pay for our passages, longing for us to join him.
A brand new life!
he wrote to us, the first week he was there.
You won't believe the wonders of this country. Mary, you'll be so happy. And Clarrie and Will will be in seventh heaven. Wallabies. Jacaranda trees. And heat, and sun, and huge wide skies, and everyone – everyone – building a brave new country.
‘All right for Charles,' Uncle Len muttered sourly. ‘He always was the lucky one.' But after a moment, his natural good spirits returned. ‘I'll just think myself lucky in his place while he's away, and eat his supper – if I'm invited, Mary.'
And Mother softened, of course, and let him stay. She can't help but be fond of Uncle Len, for all I used to hear her and my father whispering together about his faults. Uncle Len is a natural showman, with charm enough to fetch the ducks off water. That's why he works in music hall – luckily for him, because that meant he was usually still in his lodging house when Mother came home from serving in Mrs Trimble and Miss Foy's shop and, poking her head into the cupboard under the sink, called to me over her clattering of pots and pans.
‘Clarrie, run along and ask Uncle Len if he would like to join us.'
I'd slam my schoolbook shut and run down to the alley. A few doors along, I'd push at his creaking boarding-house door and hurry up the stairs. ‘Mother says there'll be plenty. Will you come?'
‘Will I
come
?' He'd spin me round, even though, now I'm older, I'm no feather to lift. ‘Will I choose to eat good food in fine company, rather than stone soup alone? Praise the day my dear brother married an angel!'
Uncle Len adores Mother. But, then again, he really loves his brother, too. I've sometimes thought he misses him almost as much as we do – like the night he reached for the cocoa tin and turned the picture of the girl on the front to face us.
‘See her?' he said, nodding.
I didn't need to look. I spend hours gazing at her. She has the roundest face I've ever seen, all black and shiny, and she's all smile.
He tapped his finger against her perfect little teeth. ‘Well,' he said, ‘when Charles has earned his pile, and all our family is together again, we'll every one of us have a smile like hers.'

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