The Dark Is Rising [antikvár]

Midwinter's Eve "Too many!" James shouted, and slammed the door behind him. "What?" said Will. "Too many kids in this family, that's what. Just too many." James stood fuming on the landing hke a small angry locomotive, then stumped across to the window-seat and stared out at the garden. Will put aside his book and pulled up his legs to make room. "I could hear all the yelling," he said, chin on knees. "Wasn't anything," James said. "Just stupid Barbara again. Bossing. Pick up this, don't touch that. And Mary joining in, twitter twitter twitter. You'd think this house was big enough, but there's always people." They both looked out of the window. The snow lay thin and apologetic over the world. That wide grey sweep was the lawn, with the straggling trees of the orchard still dark beyond; the white squares were the roofs of the garage, the old barn, the rabbit hutches, the chicken coops. Further back there were only the flat fields of Dawsons' Farm, dimly white-striped. All the broad sky was grey, full of more snow that refused to fall. There was no colour anywhere. "Four days to Christmas," Will said. "I wish it would snow properly." "And your birthday tomorrow." "Mmm." He had been going to say that too, but it would have been too much like a reminder. And the gift he most wished for on his birthday was something nobody could give