The Truth of Things [sample]

“Never have three sparsely written novellas packed such an emotional punch. Not a word is wasted and, for me, they are the absolute definition of the word ‘classic’”

PHIL EARLE, GUARDIAN Brock

“McGowan, as one of Britain’s most talented novelists, freights every word with truth and meaning” THE TIMES

“[Nature] provides a moment of epiphany that resounds. Simply told, yet laced with urgency, this will spellbind” PHILIP WOMACK, DAILY TELEGRAPH

“McGowan refuses to compromise on quality, substance, or the emotional challenges that he offers readers” INIS

“An uncondescending and atmospheric novella” CBI

“Brock is both timeless and current, and simple but beautifully written” LIBRARY MICE

“This is a book about raw courage, which can be both heart-breaking and uplifting … The characters in this book are so genuine, I feel as if I know them” THE BOOKBAG

Pike

“McGowan writes in prose as spare and effective as that of Barry Hines … there’s an extraordinary depth and elegance to this story. An outstanding novel” ANDREA REECE, LOVEREADING4KIDS

“A gut-wrenching tale of crime and punishment makes [Pike] compelling reading” NEW STATESMAN

“Dazzlingly true to life, a succinct yet satisfying read” INIS

“A brilliant read for any teenager” OUR BOOK REVIEWS ONLINE

“This story is an object lesson in the art of compression. In only 128 pages it touches on natural history, sibling relationships, living with mental disability, split families, fear of outsiders, dealing with bullies and coping with guilt”

BOOKS FOR KEEPS

“McGowan … manages to transform a relatively simple storyline into a gripping tale with a fresh outlook and edgy twist” READING ZONE

Rook

“Gritty, unflinching and authentic ... with a lifeaffirming warmth” CARNEGIE JUDGING PANEL

“Lucid and sharp as broken glass, it’s a book filled with raw, elemental emotion” GUARDIAN

“Rook is an outstanding piece of writing … unflinching and authentic, funny and gritty and a treasured addition to my bookshelves” WATERSTONES BOOKSELLER

“[McGowan’s] ability to accurately represent the inner lives of young people is unparalleled” THE BOOKBAG

“[McGowan’s] writing manages to convey elements of anxiety, despair, fear and hopelessness but all is underscored with a dash of exuberant humour” LETTERPRESS PROJECT

Anthony McGowan

Published in 2019 in Great Britain by Barrington Stoke Ltd

18 Walker Street, Edinburgh, EH3 7LP

www.barringtonstoke.co.uk

Brock © 2013, 2019 Anthony McGowan

Pike © 2015 Anthony McGowan

Rook © 2017 Anthony McGowan

The moral right of Anthony McGowan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in any part in any form without the written permission of the publisher

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library upon request

ISBN: 978‑1‑78112‑846 6

Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc

To Margaret and Patrick McGowan, and to their friend, the late, great Janet Cass, Empress of Sherburn

Brock

One

The old male shifted uneasily in his sleep. He was dreaming of the ancient battles, back in the days when his teeth were still sharp. Those teeth were worn down to brown stumps now, but once every living creature in the woods and the fields feared them.

He remembered the big fox he had mauled in a clash over earthworms. Then there was the mink, a cruel and slender killer. It had crept down in search of his young. That was a fight he would not forget – he still carried the scars in his throat to help him remember.

But before then, back when he was still a squirming kit, there was the time when men had come with spades and dogs, and they had killed and killed and killed again. Of the whole loose family of brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins, only he escaped, carried away in the mouth of his mother. She concealed him under a pile of leaves and went back for the rest of her litter. But she had

never returned, and so he had been left alone in the dark world.

Somehow, he had survived, with slugs and fallen fruit for food. The first winter was hard, and he had frozen and he had starved. But he had endured. He carved out a new kingdom, made a family, protected them.

And now here he was. The old king, asleep in his sett. Strong still, but fading.

His memories scurried back to the men and the dogs, and his senses came awake.

The scent was strong. And now so were the sounds. He felt the fear run through the tunnels and sleeping chambers, and he knew that the time had come.

He stretched himself.

Yes, there was still one last fight in those old bones.

Two

“Wake up, Nicky, wake up!”

I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to stay asleep. And even more than that, I wanted to stay in my bed where it was warm. Ever since the boiler bust, the mornings had been hell. In the night your breath would freeze on the inside of the window so you could write your name in it with your fingernail.

“Wake up, Nicky, wake up. You’ve gotta come.”

It was Kenny, of course. Kenny’s my brother. People say he’s simple, and he is. I know you’re not meant to say “simple‑minded” any more, but it seems to me that it’s the exact right word for Kenny. He hasn’t got all the stuff going on that messes up other people’s heads. He isn’t always trying to work out the angles, or how to stitch you up. He thinks other people are as kind as he is, and he only has one idea at a time.

His brain was starved of oxygen when he was getting born, so now he has what they call learning difficulties. But,