The Boy Who Hid

Chapter Four

THE NEXT MORNING THEY ate stale cornflakes and tomatoes from a cold tin can. It wasn't really that terrible, if you were hungry enough you could eat anything and it would taste decent. As they were packing up again the hotel owner came up and knocked on the door.

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter and Mr. T. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these each at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel Cokeworth

It was the same with Thomas's letter, they both made a grab for them but Uncle Vernon grabbed them with a forced grin. Hours later, Aunt Petunia asked her husband whether it was a good idea to head home. Whether he heard her or not it was a mystery. He had gotten out of the car, looked around and then shook his head and got back in the car and drove off again.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. The rain started to pick up again and Dudley snivelled. "The Great Humberto's on TV tonight, I want to stay somewhere with a television." you could usually count on Dudley to tell you the days of the week because what was on TV. Thomas realised tomorrow he would be turning eleven, same as Harry, they were twins after all. Their birthdays were never fun but you weren't eleven every day. After a while Uncle Vernon with a terrifying grin on his face and he was carrying a long thin package. Begrudgingly Thomas got out of the car when his uncle had asked him too and followed him to an old rickety boat with a bald, toothless man who had a wicked grin on his old, wrinkly face.

"I've already got us some rations, so all aboard!" he called, Thomas was slightly chilly as they crossed the sea. The sea spray was cold and went down the front of his shirt. He was wearing black pants, a grey shirt, a leather jacket, and combat boots. So he was fairly warm. He felt bad for Harry who was only wearing a thin flannel over his thin grey shirt and khaki pants. Thomas tapped his older brother's shoulder and offered him the jacket. Harry took it gratefully and enjoyed the warmth of the jacket. Eventually they made it to what looked like a hut, it sat sadly dealing with the blowing winds that threatened to blow it down. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Thomas privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all. As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few mouldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry and Thomas were left to find the softest bit of floor they could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blankets.

Thomas was bigger than Harry around a couple inches. So he had the idea to place the thinnest blanket on the ground where they were going to sleep, and they curled up under the warmer one out of the two. They used Thomas's jacket as a pillow as well as their arms. Then to keep warm Harry was curled up against Thomas's chest. The two of them cuddled up with each other when they were cold or had a nightmare. It was to calm each other down. With each other's body heat they wouldn't die from the cold in the middle of the night. Both of the boys were turned toward Dudley and watched their cousin's wristwatch tick down closer toward their birthday. Five minutes to go. Thomas heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although they might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.