E-Book, Englisch, 288 Seiten
Foxlee The Bother with the Bonkillyknock Beast
1. Auflage 2025
ISBN: 978-1-78269-561-5
Verlag: Pushkin Children's Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Miss Mary-Kate Martin's Guide to Monsters Book 3
E-Book, Englisch, 288 Seiten
ISBN: 978-1-78269-561-5
Verlag: Pushkin Children's Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark
Karen Foxlee is an Australian author who writes for both children and young adults. She grew up in the Australian mining town Mount Isa and still frequently dreams she is walking barefoot along the dry Leichhardt River. She is the author of Dragon Skin and the Carnegie Medal-longlisted Lenny's Book of Everything, both published by Pushkin Children's Books. The first book of the Miss Mary-Kate Martin's Guide to Monsters, The Wrath of the Woolington Wyrm, was a Foyles Children's Book of the Month.
Weitere Infos & Material
Mary-Kate placed the black tam-o’-shanter on her head and tried to smile. It was a good hat and it perfectly matched her black skirt with its shiny brass buttons. She couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed though that the pompom wasn’t red and sequinned. That would have matched her sparkly red shoes and her sparkly red backpack. She would have been so matching that nothing at all terrible could possibly happen.
Not that anything terrible was going to happen.
It couldn’t.
It wasn’t going to be like the last two trips she’d taken with her mother, Professor Martin. She’d met a fire-breathing wyrm and a two-headed sea monster on those occasions. This trip was with her granny, who liked reading romance novels and watching the shopping channel while eating spicy takeaway. Granny went on bus tours with her four-wheel zebra print suitcase and took terribly blurry photos of landmarks that she explained at length to Mary-Kate. Not once had she recounted anything mysterious or dangerous.
Still, Mary-Kate thought she couldn’t be too careful. She stood before her lucky items collection and decided on a lucky spool of green tartan ribbon. It was still neatly wrapped in cellophane. The tartan seemed fitting; they were going to Scotland, after all. She paused to see if the destination made her feel anxious. Scotland was far, far away, a long way on the train, over great rivers and probably across towering mountain passes. There could be floods or avalanches, for instance. Mary-Kate was pleased to find there was only a small tremor of worry. She placed the tartan ribbon into her backpack.
It’s Granny, she reminded herself. And Granny had said they were staying at a very quiet castle. The quiet castle was near a very quiet loch. It was a perfect destination for reading beside fireplaces or going for long walks in galoshes. And also there was a last-minute special reunion happening there with some of Granny’s old friends. That was bound to be boring.
Still, Mary-Kate took the lucky silver packet of chewing gum that contained the last five pieces of gum her father left behind before he disappeared on Mount Shishapangma when she was five. She put it in her skirt pocket. Then she placed her international coin collection that held thirty-two coins, and her lucky stress ball that was a miniature world globe, into her backpack. This was followed by a tiny glass bottle with a cork stopper containing, Mary-Kate was sure, lucky air and then her lucky ziggurat-shaped pencil sharpener. She added her brand-new strawberry-scented notebook, her glitter pens and her mobile phone.
Finally, she picked up her prized lucky possession: a bronze star-shaped medal on a short, striped ribbon. The colours were blue, green and magenta. Three words were engraved on the front. Her mother had told her they meant courage, knowledge and kindness. On the back there were four letters: W.S.M.H.
Mary-Kate knew what these letters meant, too. World Society of Monster Hunters. The good kind. She was one of them. She shivered as she put the medal in her pocket and her heart fluttered. Surely there couldn’t be monsters on a trip with Granny?
Prof was examining relics in the deepest Congo rainforest. Prof was what Mary-Kate called her mother. It wasn’t likely she’d be able to make phone contact for days, so Granny checked on Mary-Kate’s packing. She never told Mary-Kate to pack anything sensible.
‘Are you nearly ready, Mary-Kate?’ Granny said at the bedroom door, her ancient cat Mr Tom in her arms. Granny had purple-tinged hair and always wore pink lipstick. She was wearing bright green trousers and a large purple and white plaid coat. A yellow felt hat was perched jauntily on her head. Not one part of Granny’s outfit matched. Mary-Kate quickly grabbed her lucky electric candle from the shelf to make herself feel better.
‘I do like your hat. Imagine if the pompom was sequinned? Then it would match perfectly,’ said Granny.
‘That’s exactly what I thought,’ said Mary-Kate.
‘Well, luckily, I ordered the right thing on the shopping channel then,’ beamed Granny, putting down Mr Tom and reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a tam-o’-shanter with a sequinned pompom in Mary-Kate’s favourite colour: red.
‘Granny!’ cried Mary-Kate, rushing to embrace her. Mr Tom meowed his approval.
‘Quick-sticks with your packing,’ smiled Granny. ‘Mr Tom’s pet sitter will be here any minute.’
Mary-Kate replaced the hat on her head and observed her reflection in the mirror. Perfect. She was almost one hundred per cent certain that this would be a most uneventful, monster-free trip to Scotland.
Being almost one hundred per cent certain made Mary-Kate worry. She wished she knew the exact figure. Was it ninety-eight point five per cent certain that nothing outrageously dangerous involving monsters would happen, or ninety-five per cent? Or even seventy-five per cent? There was a big difference.
The not knowing made her feel fidgety on the train. She unzipped her backpack and touched her blank strawberry-scented notebook and her new glitter pens in their unopened case. That made her feel better. Unused notebooks and glitter pens pristine in their packaging comforted Mary-Kate in the same way that an even number of shiny brass buttons did, or plain cheese sandwiches cut into perfect triangles, or thirty-minute infomercials on first-aid kits.
‘So, this castle is very quiet?’ she asked Granny, who was crunching on spicy chilli crisps and watching the green fields whizz by.
‘Bonkillyknock Castle is very remote,’ said Granny, ‘far from anywhere. A fabulous old place. I’ve brought a book on castles for you to look at if you like; there might be something interesting in it. Bonkillyknock Castle was once home to many rare and wonderful plants, too, including fairy tresses. Utterly delightful, although very hard to find now, I believe. Oh, and I’m told the castle is very close to Loch Morgavie where the secretive Loch Morgavie Monster lives.’
A monster!
Mary-Kate’s mouth opened. No useful words emerged.
Granny took a particularly large crisp and crunched on it with a smile. ‘There’s something I have to tell you, Mary-Kate,’ she said.
Mary-Kate had a familiar sinking feeling in her belly. A change was about to happen. A very large and sudden change. She could sense it.
Many things made Mary-Kate feel anxious:
* Brown colouring-in pencils
* Beginnings and endings
* Facing backwards on trains
* Saying the wrong thing during small talk
* And sudden changes.
Definitely sudden changes.
She took a deep belly breath and placed a hand over her skirt pocket, feeling the comforting weight of the medal and lucky chewing gum.
‘What is it, Granny?’ Mary-Kate tried to say as calmly as possible.
Her grandmother leaned forwards and lowered her voice. ‘Remember your last adventure?’ she whispered. ‘And how you found out the meaning of the words on your medal?’
‘World Society of Monster Hunters?’ whispered Mary-Kate.
‘Indeed. And how you learned you are a monster hunter? The good type, of course.’
‘Yes,’ said Mary-Kate, breathlessly. ‘And Prof is one and so was Father … Granny, are you saying …’
Granny grinned. She leaned back and placed another crisp in her mouth and crunched, nodding. ‘I’ve been a monster hunter since I was your age. You have much to learn, Mary-Kate, and that’s why we are going to Bonkillyknock Castle.’
‘To help the Loch Morgavie M-Monster?’ stammered Mary-Kate.
‘Oh, no, dear. The monster needs no help. We’ll be lucky if we even catch a glimpse of it,’ said Granny. Mary-Kate’s shoulders relaxed. She let out a whoosh of air. She hadn’t known she’d been holding her breath.
‘No, no. It’s the World Society of Monster Hunters’ Conference, the ninety-third to be exact,’ said Granny, cheerfully. ‘There’s been a last-minute change of venue and now it’s at Bonkillyknock Castle, which is most exciting. Also, I happen to know there will be a few other novice monster hunters for you to meet.’
Mary-Kate tensed. A conference? She’d never been to a conference. Also, Granny had said one of her least favourite words: meet. Meet meant small talk. And small talk was one of Mary-Kate’s least favourite things.
London to Bonkillyknock Castle was an endless blur of fields and fleeting...
