The Highland Falcon Thief Read online

  M. G. Leonard

  When my friend, Sam Sedgman, asked me what I was going to write next, I said I wanted to write an adventure series set on trains. My children love Thomas the Tank Engine, Duplo, Hornby and Lego locomotives, but when my eldest was old enough to choose his own books, he searched for chapter books about trains and he found none that gave him the realism, the route, the facts and the locomotive details he wanted, using the vocabulary he possessed and enjoyed. I wanted to write that book, but I couldn’t, because I knew nothing about railways. Sam erupted with enthusiasm for the idea, saying he would have loved such a book when he was a boy and that I should write it immediately. He suggested types of mysteries, the amazing trains they could take place on, and the routes they might travel, and it was immediately clear to me that Adventures on Trains would only be possible if Sam agreed to write the stories with me. And so, I asked him, and our journey together began.

  Creating these stories has been a delight. Sam is a wonderful writing partner, a fantastic friend, a delightful co-conspirator, hardworking, optimistic and generous. I am grateful for everything these books have brought into my life, but in particular the opportunity to work with Sam, who has ignited a life-long passion for railways in me.

  A hearty thank you goes to my beta readers, my husband Sam Sparling and my best friend Claire Rakich, who have both loved this book since the first draft and cheered me on through my many insecure moments.

  I am eternally grateful to my husband who works with me, supports me, and believes in me more than anyone ever has. This book is, in no small part, for the boy he is at heart, a boy who loves trains.

  I wish to thank my father-in-law, John Sparling, for enthusiastically sharing his knowledge (and his friends’ knowledge), posting me train-related cuttings, and correcting my errors.

  I would also like to say a big thank you to Tom Leaper and Francis and Cynthia Sedgman for putting up with me in their spare room, enabling our writing sessions and feeding me delicious food.

  Huge thanks to our kick-ass agent Kirsty McLachlan for seeing the potential in this idea, encouraging mine and Sam’s collaboration and finding Adventures on Trains a wonderful home at Macmillan.

  Continuing thanks and gratitude to Lucy Pearse (our brilliant train-loving editor), Kat, Jo, Alyx, Venetia and all the great people working at Macmillan, thank you for all your hard work and your love for trains. We salute you.

  A crew member who climbed aboard a little down the track was illustrator Elisa Paganelli, who has taken this story to the next level by becoming Hal and doing his drawings, as well as creating the cover, which I adore. Thank you Elisa, I cannot wait to go on more Adventures on Trains with you.

  Sam Sedgman

  I must start with my brilliant parents, without whom this book would not exist. I have them to thank for always doing everything they could to fill my imagination to the brim with books, adventures, the time and space to play. They took me on holiday to places with steam railways and to see murder mysteries at the theatre. They took me to hedge mazes, played the games I made up, and helped me name characters in my notebook at the seaside. This book is the book I always wanted to read and you have given me everything I needed to write it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  I would be lost without my wonderful partner Tom Leaper. Tom gets it. Tom understands that living with a temperamental creative person is a nightmare, but loves me anyway. Thank you for being my cheerleader, for making me laugh, and for making me believe I could do it. I love you.

  I have always written, but I have not always been good at it. Thank you to everyone who has helped me get better – especially Mrs Lunnon, who mortified me by reading my story out in front of the entire class, and persuaded me to study English.

  Thank you to Emma Reidy, the third member of our dream team, for tireless enthusiasm. Thank you to Sam Sparling for all the delicious meals. And thank you to Uncle David for building an enormous model railway in your barn and showing me trains were something fun that grown-ups could take seriously.

  Publishing is a bewildering world and I am immensely grateful to have the support of my agent, Kirsty McLachlan, who has worked tirelessly and unflappably to support this project and find it a welcoming home at Macmillan. Macmillan themselves deserve perpetual thanks – thank you to the supreme Lucy Pearse for being the kindest editor we could hope for, and to Venetia, Jo, Alyx, Kat and the rest of the team who continue to do so much for us.

  But mostly, I must thank Maya. After appearing like a fairy godmother in my hour of need and offering me my first real job, she quickly went from being the best boss I’d ever had to one of my greatest friends. Working with her has been the highlight of this whole process. Her fierce work ethic, generosity and insight leave me in constant awe, and it has been a privilege to be her partner in crime. Maya, thank you for changing my life several times. Thank you too to the incredible Elisa Paganelli, who has brought Hal’s drawings to life with such magic and joy.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  M. G. Leonard is the internationally bestselling author of the Battle of the Beetles trilogy and the non-fiction companion, The Beetle Collector’s Handbook. Beetle Boy won the Branford Boase award and has been translated into 37 languages worldwide. She is a beetle expert and lives in Brighton with her husband and two sons.

  Sam Sedgman is a novelist, playwright and award-winning digital producer. His work has been performed internationally and shortlisted for the Courtyard Theatre award. Written with his friend, M. G. Leonard, The Highland Falcon Thief is Sam’s first book for children. He lives in London and is a lifelong train and mystery enthusiast.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Elisa Paganelli was born in Italy and since childhood, hasn’t been able to resist the smell of paper and pencils. She graduated from the European Institute of Design in Turin and worked in advertising, as well as running an award-winning design shop and studio. She now collaborates as a freelance designer with publishers and advertising agencies all over the world, including designing and illustrating The House With Chicken Legs (Usborne) and the Travels of Ermine series (Usborne).

  Turn the page for an exclusive peek

  at the first chapter of Hal’s next adventure,

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHICAGO

  Stepping through the doors of Chicago’s Union Station felt like entering a cathedral. Dragging their cases and shaking rain from their coats, Harrison Beck and his uncle Nathaniel Bradshaw stopped in their tracks to admire the imposing grandeur of the vast marble hall.

  ‘It’s like a palace, a library and a church all rolled into one,’ said Hal, gazing around.

  ‘A destination station,’ Uncle Nat agreed. ‘Worthy of a visit even if you’re not catching a train. They filmed a famous gangster movie shoot-out here,’ he pointed, ‘right on those steps.’

  Hal imagined the white floor splattered with fake blood, and shivered.

  ‘Where are the trains?’

  ‘Underground,’ said Uncle Nat. ‘The tracks snake into the platforms through tunnels under the city.’

  ‘The trains are in tunnels, but the subway’s on stilts!’ Hal had spent the day before delighted by the L – Chicago’s metro system – whose trains clattered above the streets on bridges between skyscrapers.

  ‘Exactly!’ Uncle Nat said, picking up his suitcase. ‘Now come on. Let’s find the Metropolitan Lounge.’

  Hal followed his uncle down the marble staircase, gripping the brass banister and trying to contain his excitement. He’d been looking forward to this trip for weeks. Life had felt flat after he’d returned home from his journey on the Highland Falcon that summer. Ellie, his baby sister, had filled the time with her bottles, tears and dirty nappies – his parents were too exhausted to be fun.

  But everything had changed when Uncle Nat brought Hal’s new pet dog, Bailey, home. The fluffy white Samoyed was fully recovered after the excitement on the royal steam train, and Hal had been overjoyed to see her.

  ‘R
emember I told you I’d been asked to travel across America on the California Comet?’ Uncle Nat said, as Hal played with Bailey and his mum made tea. ‘It just so happens the dates fall in the October school holiday.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘What do you say, Hal? Are you ready for another adventure?’

  Hal had whooped, Bailey had barked, and Hal’s parents had worried about the cost. But Uncle Nat insisted it would all be taken care of. He was a respected journalist and travel writer, and he’d been invited on the California Comet to cover an important press conference being staged by a famous entrepreneur called August Reza. The train tickets would be paid for by the newspaper.

  ‘You turn twelve in October, don’t you?’ Uncle Nat had asked. ‘Consider it a birthday present.’

  Hal had had to get a passport. He’d also bought a new sketchbook, a tin of drawing pencils, and a sharpener.

  The flight to Chicago had been Hal’s first time on an aeroplane. The experience of being up in the sky had been more alarming than he’d expected. Getting into a metal machine that left the earth and landed on the other side of the world a few hours later was a disorienting kind of magic. Hal decided he was more of a train person than a plane person. He liked to see the places he was travelling through.

  Uncle Nat stopped at the bottom of the station steps, pointing to a distant glass door. ‘There’s the lounge. I could do with a coffee.’

  ‘I’d like to draw the Great Hall’ said Hal, looking up.

  ‘We’ve got plenty of time. Give me your case.’ Uncle Nat took the handle. ‘Come find me when you’re done. I’ll be near the hot drinks.’

  Taking out his sketchbook and a pencil, Hal studied the scene. He drew a drum shape in the middle of the page, making the ticket kiosk the focal point of his picture. Vertical lines either side became Corinthian columns, holding up the vaulted ceiling from which hung the vivid stars and stripes of an American flag, as large as a ship’s sail.

  A man in a crumpled suit, carrying a briefcase, paused at the top of the stairs to check his watch. Capturing the figure with the flat side of his pencil, Hal’s gaze swept across the white floor. An Amish family had gathered around the ticket kiosk. Their bonnets, hats and aprons made him think of characters from history books. Marking the diagonal lines of the hall’s long wooden benches, he sketched a woman in a long blue puffer-jacket, sitting with a lizard wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf. Is that a bearded dragon? Hal wondered as he added her to his picture.

  A tall man wearing blue tracksuit bottoms and a lime green training jacket crossed the concourse, trailed by a miserable-looking boy in jeans and a red t-shirt, with dental headgear strapped to his face. The pair passed a chunky man in dark glasses and a suit, striding purposefully across the hall. A confident-looking blonde girl in a grey pinafore and pink cardigan skipped by his side. She smiled at the boy in the headgear and winked, but he looked away.

  As he gazed up at the glass ceiling of the Great Hall, the station bustling around him, Hal felt like an antenna picking up mysterious signals that heralded adventure. He stepped back to take a long view of the hall.

  ‘Hey! Watch it buddy!’

  Spinning around, Hal found himself nose to nose with the bulging blue eyes of a stocky boy with dark hair. ‘Sorry! I wasn’t looking.’ He held up his sketchbook. ‘I’m trying to draw the Great Hall.’

  The boy cocked his head. ‘I’m trying to draw the Great Hall,’ he repeated.

  Hal frowned, unsure if he was being mocked.

  ‘You’re British, aren’t you?’ the boy asked eagerly. ‘Go on, say something else British.’

  ‘I … err … um …’

  ‘I … err … um …’ The boy copied him, then laughed at the confusion on Hal’s face. ‘Don’t mind me. Are you taking a train today?’

  Hal nodded. ‘The California Comet to San Francisco.’

  ‘Hey, me too!’ The boy put his arm around Hal’s shoulder. ‘This is great. You’ve gotta meet my sister. She’s in the Metropolitan Lounge.’

  Hal glanced over his shoulder at the barrel-vaulted skylight above. ‘But I want to finish …’

  ‘You want chips and soda? They’re free!’ The boy patted Hal’s back and pushed him towards the glass door. ‘Hadley’s going to freak when she hears you talk. My name’s Mason, by the way.’

  Surrendering with a shy smile, Hal put his sketchbook and pencil into his yellow anorak pocket. ‘I’m Harrison, but everybody calls me Hal.’

  ‘This way, Hal.’ Mason guided him into the lounge, towards a table where a girl with wavy honey-coloured hair was playing cards. ‘Hey, Hadley! Meet Hal.’

  Hadley turned to greet them and without looking, swept her deck of cards up in one fluid movement. She was wearing a purple hoodie with a slogan on the front in white: What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes – Harry Houdini.

  ‘Hi.’ She smiled at him with perfect teeth.

  ‘Hal’s British.’ Mason nudged him. ‘Go on, say something.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Hal said, blushing slightly.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Mason mimicked Hal.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ Hal mumbled.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ Mason replied.

  ‘Mason copies everyone. It’s annoying, but his impressions are really good.’ Hadley’s brown eyes were warm and her manner friendly.

  ‘I’ve never had a Brit to impersonate before.’ Mason looked at Hal as if he were a prize turkey at Thanksgiving. ‘Say the alphabet. Wait, I need my recorder. I want to put you in my voice bank.’

  ‘Voice bank?’

  ‘I collect voices, so I can practise the sounds and shapes of words.’ Mason stretched and squashed his mouth into several alarming positions, his olive skin remarkably elastic.

  ‘You don’t want my voice. I’m Northern, from a place called Crewe. I’m not posh British, like the Queen.’ Hal didn’t like the idea of spending his train journey being a guinea pig for an impressionist’s voice bank.

  ‘How old are you?’ Hadley asked.

  ‘Twelve,’ Hal replied, not admitting it had only been three days since his birthday.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I’m thirteen,’ said Mason.

  ‘Really?’ Hal blinked. He’d thought Mason might be younger than him.

  Hadley giggled. ‘Everyone thinks Mason’s my little brother.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with being short,’ Mason protested. ‘All the best actors are short.’

  Hal sensed this was the beginning of an often-repeated quarrel and changed the subject. ‘Didn’t you say there were free chips?’

  ‘Yeah, over here.’ Mason took him to a counter, showing him a bowl of brightly coloured crisp packets.

  ‘They’re not chips.’

  ‘Yes they are,’ Mason said.

  ‘Chips are potatoes.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Chips are hot, and you dip them in ketchup. These are crisps.’

  ‘He means fries,’ Hadley said, grabbing a packet and pulling it open.

  ‘You call fries chips, and chips crisps?’ Mason shook his head. ‘Wild.’

  ‘America’s strange.’ Hal said. ‘Yesterday I got a pizza, but it was like a pie! Everything’s like it is back home but … different. Walking around Chicago made me feel like I was in a film.’

  ‘Mmm, deep-dish pizza,’ Hadley smacked her lips. ‘A Chicago speciality.’

  ‘Hal, there you are.’ Uncle Nat appeared at the foot of a staircase, standing out from the crowd in his spotless white trainers, rainbow-striped sweater and petrol-blue suit. ‘Already making friends?’

  ‘This is Mason and Hadley,’ Hal said.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you.’ Uncle Nat shook their hands. ‘I’m Hal’s uncle, Nathaniel Bradshaw.’

  Hal saw Mason mouth a pleasure to meet you.

  ‘Are you taking the California Comet as well?’ Uncle Nat asked.

  ‘Yeah, we’re going to Reno,’ said Hadley, try
ing to divert Uncle Nat’s attention away from Mason. ‘Pop’s working at a casino there.’

  ‘Is your father a croupier?’

  ‘He’s an entertainer,’ Hadley said.

  ‘How marvellous.’

  ‘How marvellous,’ Mason echoed quietly.

  ‘Well, I look forward to seeing you on board,’ said Uncle Nat. ‘Hal, we should check our bags into the luggage car.’

  Waving goodbye to Hadley and Mason, Hal pulled on his rucksack and helped his uncle carry their suitcases out of the lounge. A busker with a saxophone had set up in the hall, and Uncle Nat drifted over, enjoying the music. Hal pulled out his sketchbook. He only needed a few moments to finish his drawing, so he added the busker and his horn, and the figure of his uncle, listening. The song ended and Uncle Nat dropped a couple of dollar bills into the musician’s case.

  ‘Do you know Pennies from Heaven?’

  ‘I sure do.’ The busker moistened his reed and began playing, the music floating after them as they walked towards the luggage desk. As he followed his uncle across the concourse, Hal wished he could be more like him. Uncle Nat seemed to fit in everywhere he went.

  After checking in their suitcases, they paused in front of a large map of the United States while Uncle Nat read the ticket.

  ‘We want the south gate, track F,’ Uncle Nat said. ‘The California Comet is train five.’ He lifted his leather hold-all onto his shoulder.

  ‘What’s Amtrak?’ Hal asked, looking at the map, which had The Amtrak System written above it. Red lines criss-crossed it, marking railway routes across the country.

  ‘They run the passenger trains in America.’ Uncle Nat pointed at Chicago, in the middle of the map at the foot of a big blue lake. ‘We’re here.’ His finger traced a red line west. ‘We’ll travel through the farmlands of Iowa and Nebraska, up through the snow-capped Rocky Mountains in Colorado, cross the desert in Utah and make passage through the forests of the Sierra Nevada. From there we’ll sweep southwest to the California coast, arriving in San Francisco in two days’ time.’