Ford The Imagination Box

Main
ISBN: 978-0-571-31166-8
Verlag: Faber & Faber
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 288 Seiten

Reihe: The Imagination Box

There is a box. Anything you imagine will appear inside. You have one go, one chance to create anything you want. What would you pick?' That's exactly the question ten-year-old Timothy Hart gets to answer after discovering The Imagination Box. The greatest toy on earth. The top-secret contraption transforms his life but when the box's inventor, Professor Eisenstone, goes missing, Tim knows he has to investigate. With the help of a talking finger monkey called Phil, he sets out to find the professor. In order to rescue his friend, he must face his darkest fears and discover the true potential of his own mind. This stunning debut is first in an exciting new trilogy for readers aged 9+.

Martyn Ford is a journalist and award-winning author from the UK. His debut middle-grade children's book, The Imagination Box, was published by Faber in 2015 to critical acclaim and has since become a trilogy. This was followed by 2019's standalone title, Chester Parsons is Not a Gorilla. His adult debut, Every Missing Thing, was released in 2020, from Amazon imprint Thomas & Mercer. Martyn spends a lot of his time thinking, writing and thinking about writing. He has a lot of titanium implants in his mouth because most of his big teeth didn't appear but, get this, no one knows why . . .

Autoren/Hrsg.

Ford, Martyn

Leseproben

Chapter 2

Tim’s bedroom, formally room twenty, was exactly the same layout as all the guest suites in the building but looked more ‘lived in’, with considerably more mess. Sitting cross-legged on the end of his bed, he put the final touches on his drawing, turning Elisa’s accidental watermark into a puddle on the pavement.

The phone on his bedside cabinet rang. It was Elisa, calling him for dinner. She often contacted him on the hotel’s internal system. This made Tim feel even more like a guest and less like her son. Elisa and Chris Green, who ran the Dawn Star, had adopted him a week or two before they moved in. At the time it was a dream come true for them, as Elisa had wanted to run a hotel since she was little. This confused Tim because she never seemed to be happy here – in fact just the opposite. She was constantly anxious, spending much of her time upset about money, about how hard things were or about how she didn’t have time for any of Tim’s nonsense, ‘nonsense’ being virtually anything Tim said or did. This worked out quite nicely as he’d much rather sit by himself in some corner somewhere than be forced to spend time with Elisa.

As for Chris, well, Tim liked him a lot but they were very rarely together as he spent most of his time away on business. Working for some internet company, he was regularly jetting around the world, to sell or buy or look at or talk about … stuff. But when he was there, he was always asking what Tim was up to and he always cared about the answer. It was funny to think that Chris would be the ideal parent if he was there more and Elisa would be the ideal parent if she was there less.

And – although Tim knew the adoption was a permanent arrangement, that they had indeed signed documents meaning they were his legal guardians in every sense – he still couldn’t help feeling as though they might not be his parents forever. Sooner or later, he suspected, he’d be thrown back into one of the countless institutions through which he’d passed.

More than anything, though, Tim found the hotel a rather dull place, despite the corridor of lava. Even a brother or sister might brighten things up.

‘I’m too busy for children,’ Elisa sighed when he suggested that. She followed it with a guilty frown as, of course, Tim knew this to be all too true.

Chris and Elisa occupied what used to be the biggest room in the hotel, but which had been converted into living quarters when they took over. Here they’d meet as a ‘family’ to enjoy a quiet and generally tense meal together.

That night was no different. Elisa moaned for a while about the fact that the hotel’s head chef was leaving, and complained about how expensive things were getting, particularly the new CCTV cameras that she was having installed, and the added costs of the consultant she’d hired. She also told Tim that an ‘important guest’ was staying in room nineteen, opposite his bedroom, so he should be quiet.

Chris had cooked too, which meant the food was questionable. The sausages looked like coal and the mash was … well, Tim couldn’t be sure if it even was potato. He much preferred it when Elisa cooked, even if it created extra tension.

After dinner Tim returned to his bedroom and, the moment he closed the door, he heard some commotion in the hallway. Using his swivel chair, which he knelt on after rolling it across his carpet, he looked through the peephole. He spotted a man outside room nineteen carrying a huge cardboard box – it was the scientist, his cake-thief friend, and clearly the person Elisa had mentioned. Tim was intrigued. The old man was fumbling with the lock, whilst balancing the giant box with his other hand. It looked far too heavy for him and he seemed all the more comical through the peephole – distorted and stretched.

‘Come on, you slippery, wiggly little …’ the old man mumbled. The key tumbled from his hand.

Tim clambered off his chair and opened his door.

‘Would you like some help with that?’ he asked.

The man turned slowly, straining his neck. He smiled as best he could, the weight of the box visible on his face.

‘Ah, hello. Indeed, yes, if you could retrieve the key, there, on the floor.’ He pointed with a tilt of his head and a madman’s wink. Tim crouched and picked it up.

‘Now, yes,’ he continued, ‘if you could throw it into my mouth I think I might be able to unlock the door with my teeth …’ Leaning forwards, he held his lips open and waited.

‘Um, I could … just open the door for you?’

‘Hmm, no … wait … Yes! Much better idea. Let’s do that.’

After Tim had let him in, the man carefully placed the cardboard box on the floor and stood up straight with a groan. ‘Oh, oh, that’s better … Nice to get my back upright again. It’s you, isn’t it? It is.’ He squinted through his specs.

‘It’s me?’

‘You, yes, indeed, the boy. I hope you kept your promise and didn’t tell anyone about …’

‘I didn’t. Although Elisa saw chocolate on my face, so I was rumbled.’ All hell had broken loose over dinner. Elisa said Tim never did as he was told and never listened to what she said … or something like that.

‘Oh yes, of course … wait … Elisa?’ he frowned.

‘She’s the owner, the manager,’ Tim said.

‘The manager of the brownies? What a fine job.’

‘No,’ Tim laughed. ‘She’s the manager of the hotel. My adoptive mother – she takes care of me. Well, she feeds me and provides me with a room to sleep in …’

‘Oh yes, yes. I know Elisa. I am glad you kept your promise. A promise between friends … oh my, it is not to be broken. I am George Eisenstone,’ he said, extending his arm to Tim.

‘Timothy Hart.’

They shook hands.

‘Elisa said I shouldn’t disturb you,’ Tim added, turning to leave.

‘Ah, no, no,’ he smiled. ‘This is my room, I have paid no small sum to stay here. Indeed. It is up to me who comes and goes. Besides, you, well, helped me with my box.’

‘She told me not to annoy you.’

‘No doubt she told you not to steal a cake too. You are not annoying me, young man. No, no.’ Eisenstone sat on the bed, removed his glasses and began cleaning them with a small yellow square of soft material.

The only thing as deep as Tim’s imagination was his curiosity. ‘So … what’s in the box?’ he asked.

Eisenstone glanced over his shoulder. ‘In there is my work. It is very important.’

The vague answers were simply making him more excited. ‘And what, exactly, is that?’

‘Secrets.’ The professor smiled. ‘At any rate, I fear it won’t be terribly interesting. My work isn’t … it isn’t finished. Now …’ Eisenstone pulled a small silver watch from his top pocket to check the time. ‘I must go. I have arrangements.’

‘OK.’

‘It was nice to meet you,’ he said, standing.

On the way out Tim peered over for one last quick glance. He struggled with his inquisitive nature at the best of times, but a big mysterious box filled solely with secrets? This was some kind of torture.

The moment he returned to his room, he knelt back on top of his swivel chair and watched the professor leave. This man was intriguing, Tim concluded, still staring through the peephole. Out of the ordinary, and certainly worth investigating—

Hang on.

A strip of natural light escaped into the hall from room nineteen. The door was open, only a slither, but open nonetheless. Professor Eisenstone must have assumed the first click meant it was locked. In actual fact these old doors needed quite a tug to close completely.

Interesting …

Again, Tim left his bedroom and stood for a moment alone in the corridor, biting his thumbnail as he evaluated the temptation.

Could he?

He couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

But … maybe … maybe just a quick peek. What’s the worst that could happen?

So he pushed the door open a tiny amount and sneaked a look inside the room. The cardboard box was on the bed, on its side. It was empty. He stopped for a moment and considered turning back. If Professor Eisenstone returned he’d be angry – he might even tell Elisa. But maybe just a little further, he thought.

On the floor, he saw some wires. Red, white, green, blue and striped ones all tangled and bunched together with elastic bands. His gaze followed the cables to a large silver contraption sitting on top of the wooden chest of drawers next to the bed. It looked like a microwave, only … different. There were exposed circuit boards and a forest of complicated-looking buttons and settings on top. Whatever it was it looked homemade and unfinished. A small hatch on the top of the box caught Tim’s eye. He slid a metal lock, like one from a bathroom, and lifted the lid. The machine was hollow, empty. What does this thing do, Tim silently wondered.

Below him, resting on the carpet, was what looked like a very unusual hat plugged into the box. Before Tim could stop himself, the helmet had found its way on to his head.

It felt heavy and uncomfortable as he continued inspecting the main part of the machine. On the top right-hand side was one button that stood out. It had nothing written on it but it was big, circular and green – green being the universal colour for ‘Go’, and circles, well, they’re just an all-round nice shape.

Then, with no conscious thought, Tim’s hand moved forward and pressed the button.

Whoops.

There was a quiet beep when he pulled his arm away....