River Daughter. Jane Hardstaff
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First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2015 Jane Hardstaff
Illustrations copyright © 2015 Joe McLaren
The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted
First e-book edition 2014
ISBN 978 1 4052 6832 5
eISBN 978 1 7803 1389 4
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Typeset by Avon DataSet Ltd, Bidford on Avon, Warwickshire
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For Frea
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
‘Sweet Harry’s scabs! Yer like a frog with hair, Leatherboots.’
‘Bet you’ve never seen a frog do this!’
Moss dived down, turning a full somersault as she went, leaving Salter grinning on the riverbank. As she stretched to touch the stony river bed, she felt the drag of the water against her body. The river here was in no hurry. No roar, no raging currents, just a wide bend and a grassy bank that ushered the moorhens politely on their way. Moss knew this stretch of river as well as she knew the scratches on her knees. She knew the vole holes. She knew where the kingfishers flicked their jewel wings. She knew every dip in the river bed. Because it was here she’d learnt to swim.
She wore an old apple sack with holes cut for her neck and arms. At first Moss had gasped at the clumsiness of her kicks, fists gripped tight to the branch that kept her afloat, her friend never more than a few steps away. On the surface was a spluttering fight for air. Yet under the water, the quietness calmed her. So Salter had tied a rope around her middle and she’d let herself sink, eyes open, arms outstretched, and gradually her legs had learned a rhythm that propelled her body forward. When she ran out of breath, she would rise to the surface and gulp another. And if she strayed too far into the river, Salter would haul her back on the end of his rope like a strange fish.
Now the rope was off. More than a year had passed since she, Pa and Salter had left London, and though Salter said she frightened the trout, Moss had spent