An Excerpt from The Ocean at the End of the Lane: Chapters 1 - 3

by Neil Gaiman

I was not happy as a child, although from time to time I was content. I lived in books more than I lived anywhere else.

they told me only that they were no longer affluent, that we would all need to make sacrifices, and that what I would be sacrificing was my bedroom,

I bent down, dipped it into the water, rubbed my fingers across it to clean it off. I stared at it. Queen Victoria’s face stared back at me. “Sixpence?” I said. “The fish ate a sixpence?” “It’s not good, is it?” said Lettie Hempstock. There was a little sunshine now: it showed the freckles that clustered across her cheeks and nose, and, where the sunlight touched her hair, it was a coppery red. And then she said, “Your father’s wondering where you are. Time to be getting back.” I tried to give her the little silver sixpence, but she shook her head. “You keep it,” she said. “You can buy chocolates, or sherbet lemons.” “I don’t think I can,” I said. “It’s too small. I don’t know if shops will take sixpences like these nowadays.” “Then put it in your piggy bank,” she said. “It might bring you luck.” She said this doubtfully, as if she were uncertain what kind of luck it would bring.

“Now, don’t do anything stupid. Approach it with care. Bind it, close its ways, send it back to sleep.” “I know,” said Lettie. “I know all that. Honestly. We’ll be fine.” That’s what she said. But we weren’t.