From Gary M (U.S.)
""The Skipper's Child" is a
very entertaining and well-written adventure yarn for all ages. Having spent my
teenage years in the 1960's, and being a Dutch barge fanatic to boot, the book
was a wonderful way for me to experience what life might have been like if I'd
grown up on a Dutch barge in the Netherlands rather than the US Midwest.
Valerie Poore's story telling skills are superb. The rich characterizations and
enticing, fast paced plot-line pulled me into the story from the start, and
though decades older than Arie, the main viewpoint character, I immediately
identified with him and had no trouble seeing the world through his eyes. The
book is a delightful treasure to have stumbled on, and I too hope that Valerie
writes a sequel."
From Dark Scribe (Australia)
"This book is a delight. Valerie Poore
has the rare gift of being both able to tell an absorbing story and the
capability of telling it well. She knows how to write as well as entertain. In
a world where even children's literature can have very negative influence this
stands out. I read it to my grandchildren and I enjoyed it as much as they did.
It is fun, has tension, stimulates imagination, inspires interest in reading.
It takes me back to the children's books of my childhood, even though it is set
in modern times. It also shows a different lifestyle, that of a life on the
water - something that intensely interested my grand-kids. It is one of the
very few modern children's books that I can enthusiastically recommend. I hope
that Ms Poore continues to produce books of a similar style and quality."
From Minnie (U.K.)
"Although this is ostensibly a book for
older children, it is a gripping read, containing all the classic ingredients
of a thriller - and at the same time gives a vivid picture of life on a dutch
canal and the rather insular world of the bargee families which seems to
contain a kind of claustrophobic freedom.The characterization is skilful and
the plot gallops , or should that be skippers, along. [It] Contains enough
geography, history, politics and psychology to be educational in a most
discreet way -and, set in the early '60,s an innocence which is increasingly
hard to find in contemporary novels aimed at young people."
And here is an extract from Chapter 2:
The quay gleamed darkly as Arie stepped carefully off the side
of the barge. The cold wrapped itself round him like a blanket, numbing his
cheeks with the intensity of the chill. It seemed worse at the back of his
neck, though, so he pulled the hood of his duffle coat over his head and
buttoned the flap across under his chin. Treading his way carefully along the
narrow path, he found an opening with a few steps that took him up onto the
main road leading towards the city centre.
The streetlights splashed soft yellow pools of brightness on
the slippery surface of the paving stones, but beyond them, all was dark. Arie
shivered as he walked. There was an undercurrent of menace creeping out of the
shadows around him. Cars passed occasionally, cutting the silence with the
sound of their wheels crackling through the icy puddles on the road. In the air
there was a heavy smell of something rotten. Arie squeezed his nostrils
together to block it out. He knew that this was the stench from the flax mills that
discharged their waste into the canals, and poor Ghent was famous for it. He
was glad it wasn’t summer when the heat would likely make the air unbearable.
Crossing a bridge to the other side of the harbour, he headed into the city
away from the water and the smell of festering decay.
At first, the street he walked along was lined with sad looking
terraces, fronted by equally sad looking shops. In the reflection of the street
lamps, he saw the dirty yellow bricks, and grubby net curtains of these dreary rows
of houses. The atmosphere was so different from Dutch towns. Arie realised that
his own country was a much more cheerful place to live in with its focus on
warmth, cleanliness and cosiness. The outskirts of Belgian towns often seemed
horribly depressing and he wondered how people could bear to live in such bleak
and shabby surroundings. Things began to change, though, and as he trudged
towards the city centre, the buildings seemed to grow in stature, and the
facades became more elegant. Before he knew it, he had entered the old part of
Ghent and was struck by its beauty. Crossing a bridge over the Leie river,
which ran through and round the heart of the city, Arie gazed in fascination at
the stateliness and charm before him.
Ancient houses seemed to stoop gently, leaning against each
other for support and indulgently tolerating the water lapping round their
footings. Bridges arched gracefully over the water and as well as the rows of
barges, small pleasure-boats and punts were moored up to the sides for all the
world like a Venice of the north. He was captivated. His parents had told him
that he’d been born in Maastricht, which was apparently a very fine and
historic place too, and they sometimes joked that his love of beautiful
buildings was because he’d started life in such noble surroundings. Still, he’d
not been there since, at least not since he’d been old enough to know where he
was, but it was true that he was always aware of historic places and liked the
old architecture much more than the new stuff that was being built now.
Everything new was so bland, dull and square, and it seemed to Arie that no one
wanted to make things look attractive any more.
As he meandered round the cobbled lanes lit softly by the tall
streetlamps, he saw the ancient cathedral with its soaring tower, the proud
Flemish town houses with their ornate frontages and the noble city hall. It was
like finding treasure after the gruelling day they’d had, and Arie grinned,
absurdly pleased to have seen all this beauty by himself. Being so cold, there
weren’t many people about, but those he did see glanced at him curiously, and
he realised he must look a little strange all alone with his ridiculous smile.
He sighed with pleasure and his breath made small clouds before him, but he no
longer noticed the falling temperatures.
Eventually satisfied with his visual feast, Arie set off back
towards the harbour and quay where the Rival lay. He definitely felt ready for
a good night’s sleep now. Whistling jauntily, he started on his way, but after
a few minutes walk, he realised he had no idea how long he’d been out so he
stopped under a street lamp to look at his watch. He still wasn’t really used to having one. He’d only got it
for his birthday the previous June, and he wasn’t allowed to take it to school
either, so it was still quite a novelty. Peering closely at its face, made
yellow under the lamplight, Arie saw with shock he’d been gone for nearly two
hours. It was only 8.30 but even so, his parents would be worried, he was sure.
Breaking into a run, he sped his way back through the dim and freezing streets,
gasping as the cold robbed him of breath.
********
Marijke glanced anxiously towards the clock on the dresser.
Arie had been gone a long time. He often took himself off for walks when they
moored up but he was usually back in an hour or so. It had been about 6.30 when
he went out and now it was getting on for two hours since then.
Hendrik caught her gaze and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry,
dear, he’s probably wandering round the city and forgotten the time. You know
what he’s like with old buildings. He’ll spend hours gaping at them.” He
chuckled at the thought and shook his head in bemusement. Where the boy had got
this craving for the world of cities and history, he really didn’t know,
because despite their jokes about his place of birth, there was nothing in his
background to account for such a passion.
Marijke looked at him in concern. “You know he won’t ever be a
skipper, don’t you Hendrik?” She looked around their tiny home. The girls had
already cleaned their teeth and gone off to bed, even though it was still
early. There was nothing else for them to do. She sighed, then articulated
slowly. “Arie will never be satisfied with this life. He’s too hungry for the
world.”
“I know that, schat.”
Hendrik could only agree. He wasn’t blind to his son’s lack of interest in the
only life he had ever known himself. He regretted it, but was philosophical all
the same. “Maybe he’ll change his mind when he’s older and sees how his fine
cities and people are really full of cheating, sin and greed.”
Marijke nodded “Yes, but he’s so full of curiosity, and he
wants to know so much about life on the land.”
“It’s not all it’s
cracked up to be, if you ask me, but he has to find that out for himself.
Anyway, if he doesn’t want to be a skipper, then I’ll have to sell the barge
when the time comes.” Hendrik patted her knee, raising his voice slightly to
make sure she could hear. “Don’t fret, though, love, he’ll be back soon.”
********
Arie slowed to a walk as he came to the last bridge over the
harbour where the boat was moored. He trod more carefully now as the pavement
was even more slippery on the stretch over the water itself. As he crossed
over, he could see the Rival as a long dark mass with only the vooronder lit by one of the
streetlights. It was a nice shape, he reflected. He leant against the railings
for a moment to look at it. Not often conscious of the barge itself, he was
aware that it was called a Luxe Motor, and that it had very good proportions
with its wheelhouse sitting before the roef
and its long lean lines.
As he watched, he noticed something moving on the gunwales
where nothing should have been at all. Looking more intently into the darkness,
he could see that the thing was moving towards the hatch to his room in the vooronder, and then suddenly, the pool
of light fell on the shape revealing it to be human. Arie’s mouth went dry, and
he gasped with shock. Under his stunned gaze, the hatch opened and the shape
disappeared inside.
Shock turned to excitement as Arie wondered what to do. Who
could it be? And why were they creeping about so stealthily? For that matter,
where had the person come from? And how had he or she got on board without
being heard? He pondered about whether to alert his parents, but something told
him not to. Almost bursting with suspense, he finished crossing the bridge and
then ran quickly back to the barge. As he approached their mooring, he decided
to say a quick goodnight to his mum and dad, apologise for being late and then
head off to his room. He wanted desperately to find out what was going on, and
he wanted to do it without any interference from anyone else. This was going to
be his adventure, and his alone.
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