The Lost Love

These things happened nearly ten years ago.

I lived in a city, but the city was hot in summer. I wanted to see the country. I wanted to smell
clean country air and see green trees and grass.
I had a little red car and I had a map too. I drove all night out into the country.
I was happy in my car. We had a very good summer, ten years ago. The country was very
pretty in the early morning. The sun was hot, the sky was blue, and I heard the birds in the
trees.
And then my car stopped suddenly.
‘What’s wrong?’ I thought. ‘Oh dear, I haven’t any petrol. That’s silly! Now I’ll have to
walk. I must find a town and buy some petrol. But where am I?’
I looked at the map. I wasn’t near a town. I was lost in the country.
And then I saw the girl. She walked along the road, with flowers in her hand. She wore a long
dress, and her hair was long too. It was long and black, and it shone in the sun. She was very
pretty. I wanted to speak to her, so I stood up.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘I’m lost. Where am I?’
I saw a frightened look on her face, so I spoke softly.
‘I haven’t got any petrol,’ I said. ‘Where can I find some?’
Her blue eyes looked at me, and she smiled.
‘What a pretty girl!’ I thought.
‘I do not know,’ she said. ‘Come with me to the village. Perhaps we can help you.’
I went with her happily, and we walked across the fields.
‘Perhaps it’s a very small village,’ I thought, ‘and so it’s not on the map.’
There was a village—a very old and pretty one. The houses were black and white and very
small. There were a lot of animals, too.
‘Perhaps they’re farmers,’ I thought.
The girl stopped at a house and smiled at me.
‘Come in, please,’ she said.
I went in. The house was very clean, but it was strange, too. There was a fire and some food
in a pot.
I smelt it and I was hungry.
‘That’s strange,’ I thought. ‘They cook their food over a wood fire! Perhaps they’re poor.’
I met her father and mother, and I liked them.
They were nice people, but their clothes were strange.
‘Sit down,’ said the old man. ‘Are you thirsty after your walk?’
He gave me a drink and I said, ‘Thank you.’ But the drink was strange too. It was very brown
and strong.
I didn’t understand. But I was happy there.
I asked about petrol, but the old man didn’t understand.
‘Petrol?’ he asked. ‘What is that?’
‘Am I dreaming?’ I thought. Then I said, ‘How do you travel? Do you walk?’
The old man smiled.
‘Oh, we travel on horses,’ he said.
‘Horses!’ I thought. ‘Horses are very slow. Why don’t they have cars?’
But I didn’t say that to the old man.
I felt happy there. I stayed all day, and I ate dinner with them that evening. Then the girl and I
went out into the garden in the moonlight. Her name was Mary.
‘This is good,’ she said. ‘We like to have a visitor.
We do not see many people here.’
We spoke quietly and happily. She was very pretty. But after a time, she began to talk
quietly, and her face grew sad. I asked her, ‘Why are you sad?’
‘I cannot tell you,’ she said. ‘But you are only a visitor here. We must say goodbye tonight.
You must go now.’
I didn’t understand. Why? I loved her. I knew that already. Why must I go? But Mary said
again in a sad voice, ‘You must go.’
So I said, ‘I’ll go to the next town and find some petrol. Then I’ll come back.’
She didn’t speak.
‘I love you, Mary,’ I said. ‘And I’ll come back to you. You won’t stop me.’
She said goodbye to me at the door. Her face was very sad, and I was sad, too. I didn’t want
to go.
The moon went down, and the night was very dark, but I walked and walked. I was very
tired. And then I saw the lights of a town. I found some petrol, and then I asked the name of
the village. But the man gave me a strange look.
‘What village ?’ he asked.
I told him about the village. I told him about the old houses and the people with strange
clothes.
Again he gave me a strange look. He thought and then he said, ‘There was a village there, but
it isn’t there now. There are stories about it—strange stories. Perhaps they’re true.’
‘What do people say about it?’ I asked.
He didn’t want to tell me, but then he said, ‘They burnt the village a long time ago. There
aren’t any people or any houses now. ’
‘Who burnt it?’ I asked. ‘And why?’
He said, ‘Cromwell and his soldiers. They burnt the village and killed all the people. The
people gave help to the King in the Civil War.’
I couldn’t speak.
‘This can’t be true,’ I thought. ‘The Civil War was three hundred and fifty years ago!’
Then I remembered the strange clothes, the long hair, the pot over the fire, and the old
houses. And I remembered too about the horses.
‘But I don’t understand,’ I cried. ‘I saw the people and the village. I spoke to some people
there. It’s true!’ The man looked at me and then he spoke.
‘There is a story about the village. For one day in ten years, it lives again—just for one day.
Then it is lost again for another ten years. In that one day, a man can perhaps find it, but he
must leave before morning. Or he will stay there always.’
‘Can this be true?’ I thought. Perhaps it was. Mary said, ‘You must go.’
She loved me, but she said, ‘We must say goodbye.’ She was frightened for me.
‘Now I understand,’ I thought.
I didn’t like the man’s story. But I went back to the village, and it wasn’t there. I looked again
and again, but I didn’t find it. I saw only the grass and trees. I heard only the sound of the
wind and the birds. I was very sad and I sat down on the grass and cried.
That happened nine years and ten months ago, but I have not forgotten. I still remember
Mary, and still love her.
Now, I have to wait only two months. The village will come back again. On the right day, I
will go back. I will find her again, my love with the black hair. And this time, I will not leave
before morning. I will stay with them always.

The Doll

Mr Brown lived in England. He lived in a town, and his small house had a garden. Mr Brown
liked his garden very much. It had a lot of flowers and the grass was very green. The flowers
were pretty in summer— red, blue and yellow. Mr' Brown liked to sit there in the sun.
But he had to work too. Mr Brown worked in an office. It wasn’t near his house, so Mr
Brown often went to work on the bus. He came home on the bus, too.
Mr Brown was a sad and lonely man. He didn’t have many friends and he didn’t talk to many
people. And so he was lonely.
One very hot day, Mr Brown decided to walk home. He didn’t want to go on the bus that day.
He wanted a walk in the sunshine. In one street there was a small shop. Mr Brown looked at
the window. There were very old things in the window, and Mr Brown liked old things.
He went into the shop.
‘Good afternoon,’ said the man in the shop.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Mr Brown. ‘Can I just look at the old things?’
‘Please do.’
Mr Brown looked at the things in the shop. He saw an old doll with a sad face. It wasn’t a
pretty face, but Mr Brown liked it. The doll was a little old man with white hair and black
clothes.
Mr Brown thought, ‘Perhaps the doll is lonely, too.’
He asked, ‘What do you want for this old doll?’
The man thought.
‘One pound,’ he said.
Mr Brown wanted the doll. Why? He didn’t know. But he did want it. A pound is a lot of
money for an old doll, but Mr Brown paid it. He went out with the doll in his hand.
He looked at its face. ‘Is it smiling?’ he wondered. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘It’s only a doll.’ He
said to it, ‘I’m going to take you home.’
The doll didn’t answer—it was only a doll. So why did Mr Brown speak to it? Because he
was lonely. He put it in his case with all his papers from the office.
Mr Brown was tired, and so he got on the bus. The man came to take Mr Brown’s money and
Mr Brown paid him ten pence.
Suddenly, there was a voice in the bus.
‘Go away!’ said the voice. ‘You silly man. Go away!’
All the people on the bus looked at Mr Brown. ‘Did he speak?’ they wondered.
The bus man was angry with Mr Brown. ‘Why did he say that?’ he wondered. He gave Mr
Brown a ticket and went away. He didn’t like Mr Brown.
Mr Brown got home. He was very tired. ‘Who spoke on the bus?’ he wondered. Mr Brown
just didn’t know. He took the doll out of his case and looked at it.
It was just a doll. It wasn’t very pretty, but it smiled.
Mr Brown put it on the table and had his dinner.
Mr Brown wasn’t very hungry and so he only ate some bread and cheese. Then he went to
bed and slept. He forgot the doll. It was on the table.
Morning came and the sun came into the room. Mr Brown opened his eyes. There was a thing
on his bed. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
He looked, and he saw the doll. It was on his bed. ‘But I left it on the table. It can’t walk—
it’s only a doll.’ Mr Brown didn’t understand it. It was very strange.
Mr Brown went to the front door. ‘Are there any letters for me?’ he wondered.
Yes, there were three with his name and address.
But what was this ? The letters were already open! But who had opened them ? Mr Brown
didn’t know.
Mr Brown ate his breakfast. Then he went to the bus stop and waited. The red bus came and
stopped. Mr Brown got on with his case and sat down.
The bus was full of people and one old lady didn’t have a seat. She stood in the bus, and her
face was tired. Mr Brown was a kind man and he gave her his seat.
Then suddenly, a voice spoke.
‘You poor silly old thing!’ it said.
The lady turned and looked at Mr Brown. His face was red. The lady was angry and didn’t
like Mr Brown.
He got off the bus. He was angry, and he didn’t understand it.
‘The doll’s still at home,’ he thought. ‘Or is it?’ Mr Brown opened his case and looked. The
doll was there, with a big smile on its face!
He put the doll down on the road and went to work. ‘I haven’t got that doll now,’ he thought.
‘Good!’ Mr Brown worked well all day. After work he walked to the bus stop. ‘But what’s
this?’ The doll was at the bus stop. ‘It’s waiting for me in the road!’ Mr Brown saw the white
hair and the black clothes, and he saw the smile too. ‘What’s happening?’ he wondered. ‘It
isn’t just a doll.’
He turned and ran. Then he walked home. He was very tired then. He had to walk three miles
to his house.
Mr Brown sat down in a chair and went to sleep.
He slept for an hour.
Suddenly, there was a big noise—CRASH! SMASH! Mr Brown opened his eyes. ‘What’s
wrong?’ He went to see.
The doll was there again. It sat on the table and looked at him. The cups and plates were on
the floor —pieces of them.
‘It isn’t just a doll,’ Mr Brown decided. ‘And it is not a friend. What can I do?’
He took the doll into the garden. He made a hole in the ground, and put the doll in it.
‘That’s the end of you,’ said Mr Brown. ‘You’re under the ground now. You won’t get out of
that.’
Next day, Mr Brown went to work on the bus. He didn’t have the doll now and he didn’t hear
a voice. He worked hard and he was happy.
Mr Brown came home at night. He was happy in his quiet house. He watched television.
‘This is good,’ he thought.
At ten o’clock he went to bed. The house was dark and quiet. But there was a sudden noise in
the night. Mr Brown sat up in bed. He was cold and afraid. ‘What was that noise?’
The noise was at the back door. Mr Brown was afraid, but he opened the door. It was the doll
again!
It was dirty from the ground, but it looked at Mr Brown and smiled. It was a nasty smile, and
Mr Brown was frightened.
He looked at the doll and said, ‘Go away! Please! Go away!’
The doll didn’t speak. It just smiled again, so Mr Brown was very angry. He took the doll and
went into the garden. He got some wood, and he made a fire and lit it with matches. Then he
put the doll on the fire.
‘Now die!’ said Mr Brown. ‘This will be the end of you.’ And Mr Brown smiled. The fire
was hot and red.
The fire grew bigger—a lot bigger. Suddenly there was a cry and people ran out of their
houses. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s a big fire in Mr Brown’s garden,’ they said. And there was a big fire. There was a
body in it.
Mr Brown’s body!
On the grass, there was a doll with white hair and black clothes. It wasn’t a pretty doll. But
there was a smile on its face.
The Other Man

I was a writer. I wrote books. I can still write, but you can’t hear me, and you can’t see me.
In January, I wanted to write a very long book. So I left my home and I found a little room.
‘This is a good room for a writer,’ I thought. ‘I’ll write my book here.’
It was a little room, but I liked it. It was very quiet.
I began to work on my book and I was happy.
Then things began to happen—strange things.
One day I was at my desk with my pen in my hand. Suddenly, I thought, ‘Oh dear, I want a
cigarette and I haven’t got any. I’ll have to go to the shop.’
I put my pen on the table and went out.
I came back and looked for the pen. It wasn’t on the table. I looked on the floor, on my chair
and then on the table again. It just wasn’t there!
‘I don’t understand it,’ I thought.
Another strange thing happened that night. I was in bed and the room was very quiet.
Suddenly, I opened my eyes.
‘What was that?’ I said softly.
Then I heard a voice—a man’s voice.
‘Who’s there?’ I cried.
There wasn’t an answer and there wasn’t a man in the room! I didn’t understand that, and I
was frightened.
‘What shall I do?’ I thought. ‘What is it?’
After that, strange things happened every day.
‘What must I do?’ I thought. I didn’t know. But I still had to finish my book, so I decided to
stay.
The room was very small. There were not many things in it; just a bed, a table and a chair.
And there was a mirror on the wall. It was a very old mirror and I liked it. And then, one day,
I looked in the mirror and—I saw him. The other man! It wasn’t me. This man had a beard
and I never had a beard.
I was very frightened. I shut my eyes and looked again. This time, I saw my own face in the
mirror.
‘It didn’t happen,’ I thought. ‘I imagined it. There wasn’t another man.’
I went for a walk that day, and didn’t work on my book. I just didn’t want to be in the room. I
didn’t want to imagine things.
At night, I went home. The room was very quiet. I looked in the mirror and saw only my own
face. But I wasn’t happy. I went to bed but I couldn’t sleep.
‘I’ll leave the room tomorrow,’ I decided. And after that, I slept.
But I had a strange dream. I imagined a strange thing. The other man stood at my bed and
spoke to me.
‘You will never leave here,’ he said. ‘You will stay with me always.’
And then I opened my eyes. I was very cold and frightened. ‘I must leave now,’ I thought. ‘I
can’t stay here. ’
I was cold and sick, but I put my things in a case.
I wanted to go that day. I couldn’t forget the dream, and so I was afraid. But afraid of what? I
didn’t know. The case was soon full of clothes.
‘I’ll leave the room now,’ I thought.
I looked at the room, and I also looked in the mirror again. And then, I was very cold and
very frightened. I didn’t see the other man in the mirror. Why? Because he wasn’t there. But I
didn’t see my own face in the mirror! The mirror was empty!
I tried to cry out but there wasn’t a sound. I hadn’t a voice.
And then, I did see him. I saw the other man—the man with the beard. He sat at the table,
with my pen in his hand. He wrote my book with my pen! I was angry and I tried to speak.
But I couldn’t. Why? Because I hadn’t a voice.
The other man didn’t speak, but he smiled and wrote. Suddenly, there was a sound at the
door, and I heard a friend’s voice.
‘Are you there?’ my friend asked. ‘I want to see you.’
I was very happy then. ‘My friend will help me,’ I thought. I couldn’t move, but the other
man went to the door and opened it.
‘Come in,’ he said to my friend. ‘Come and see my room. I’m writing my book.’
My friend came into the room but he didn’t see me. He only smiled at the other man.
My friend said, ‘Oh, you have a beard now.’
Again and again, I tried to speak but I couldn’t. My friend didn’t see me; didn’t hear me. He
only saw the other man.
That is my story. The other man has taken my room. And he has also taken my body and my
voice. He will finish my book as well. Who can help me now?
But the other man doesn’t know one thing. I can’t speak, but I can write. I can tell my story.
And I have just told it to you!

The Charm

‘He’s a brave man,’ people say about me. ‘He just doesn’t know fear.’
They are wrong. I haven’t always been a brave man, and I have known fear—terrible fear.
I am an important man now. I have an important job, and people know me and like me. I am
one of my country’s heroes. I wasn’t always a hero, but people don’t know that. I’ll tell you
the story.
I was a very shy young man. I didn’t like to talk to other young men: I was afraid. ‘They’ll
laugh at me,’
I thought. Women were worse: I never spoke to them. I was always afraid and shy with them.
I try to help shy people now, and I never laugh at them. I remember that time. I was very
unhappy then.
Then there was a terrible war between my country and another country. I had to be a soldier.
Me! I was always afraid, but I had to be a soldier!
The other soldiers didn’t talk about it, but they knew. They knew about my fear. ‘They’re
laughing at me,’ I thought. ‘They don’t have any fear. They aren’t afraid.’ I was wrong, but I
didn’t know that.
My terrible fear grew worse.
One day, I was in the town. I wasn’t with friends; I didn’t have any friends, and I was very
unhappy. I walked slowly along a road.
An old man stood at the side of the road. There were some cars on the road, but not many.
‘Why doesn’t he go across the road?’ I thought. ‘Is he afraid?’
I went nearer, and then I saw his eyes. ‘Oh,’ I thought. ‘Now I know. He can’t see! He wants
to go across, but he needs help.’
The other people walked quickly along. They had to go to work, or to their homes, or to one
place or another. They didn’t help him; they didn’t have time.
But I had time—a lot of time. ‘I’m not going to any place,’ I thought. ‘Why can’t I help him?
I mustn’t be shy with him.’
I took the old man’s arm, and I helped him across the road.
‘Thank you!’ His hand touched my coat. ‘This is a soldier’s coat,’ he said. ‘Are you a
soldier?’
‘Yes.’
Perhaps I said it in a sad voice. The old man put a hand in his pocket. He took a small thing
out and gave it to me.
‘Take this,’ he said. ‘It’ll help you. Wear it, and you’ll be all right. Perhaps you need it now,
but you won’t always need it.’
He went then, and I looked at the thing in my hand. It was a gold chain with a small charm on
it.
‘It’s a girl’s thing,’ I thought. And I put it in my pocket.
They sent us to the battle line the next day. I was afraid—terribly afraid. But I remembered
the gold chain in my pocket. ‘Perhaps the charm will help me,’ I thought. And I put it round
my neck.
Suddenly I wasn’t afraid. Why? I didn’t know. Was it the charm round my neck?
It was a terrible battle that day. Men died all round me. ‘Perhaps I’ll die next,’ I thought. But
I wasn’t afraid!
Our captain was a brave man. He was out in front of us, and we followed him. Suddenly he
was down. He lay on the ground and didn’t move. The other soldiers stopped. They were
afraid and didn’t go on. The fire from the enemy was terrible, and the bullets flew all round
us.
I thought, ‘Perhaps the captain isn’t dead. I must go and see.’
I went out to him. The enemy fire grew worse, but I wasn’t afraid. ‘The bullets can’t hit me,’
I thought. ‘I’ve got the charm round my neck. I’ll be all right.’
I brought our captain back to a good place, and then I looked at him. He was very white, and
there was a lot of blood on his coat. But he wasn’t dead. His eyes opened, and he smiled at
me.
He spoke—not easily, but I heard him. ‘You go in front,’ he said. ‘The men will follow you.’
The men followed me, and we did well that day.
After that, I was a hero. Soon I was a captain too. The men were happy and followed me into
battle. People didn’t laugh at me then.
‘But is it right?’ I thought. ‘I’m not really brave.
It’s only the charm.’
I didn’t tell people that. I had friends for the first time, and I was happy.
One day an order came: my men must take an important bridge. The enemy held it; there
were a lot of them, and they had big guns. We had to go across open land without any trees. It
was a terrible order, and my men were afraid.
‘We’re going to die,’ they said.
‘Listen,’ I told them. ‘I’ll go first, and we must run very quickly to the bridge. Don’t be
afraid. They can’t hit all of us. Follow me, and we’ll take that bridge. You’ll be heroes.’
I put my hand to my neck. The charm on its gold chain was always there. But now—it wasn’t
there! Lost!
‘I’m going to be afraid!’ I thought. ‘I can’t be brave without the charm. What can I do?’
I looked at my men.
There wasn’t any fear in their faces.
I thought, ‘My words have helped them. They aren’t afraid now. They’re waiting for me,
their captain. And they’ll follow me without fear. I’m their hero, and I mustn’t show fear.’
I gave the order: ‘Forward!’
We ran. We got to the bridge. We lost some men, but we got there! And we took the bridge!
I have always remembered that day. I learnt one thing then. What is a brave man? Is a brave
man never afraid ? No. A brave man knows fear, but he goes forward.
I remember that old man too—the man with the charm. ‘Perhaps you need it now,’ he said,
‘but you won’t always need it.’
He was right. I learnt to be brave without it.
That all happened a long time ago. The war ended years ago. I was a young man then, and
now I am old.
I’m a brave man, people think.
Yes—they’re right. I am.

Exercises in Comprehension and Structure The Lost Love

1. Answer these questions about the story.

Be careful about a, an, the.

Examples: Where did he live? When was the city hot? Answers : In a city. In summer.
1. Where did he drive? (Into)
2. When was the country very pretty? (In)
3. Where did the girl stop? (At)
4. Where did they cook their food? (Over)
5. How did the people travel? (On)
6. When did he go into the garden ? (After)
7. When did the people give help to the King? (In)
2. Write sentences about the story.
Make your sentences from this table:

was a
were some in
There (1) the (2)
wasn’t a on
weren’t any

Example: (1) clean air — (2) city

Answer: There wasn’t any clean air in the city.
(1) (2) (1) (2)
1. map — car 5. animals — village
2. petrol — car 6. pot — fire
3. flowers — girl’s hand 7. food — pot
4. village — map 8. cars — village

The Doll

1. with white hair and black clothes

with a garden with his name and address
with a sad face with a case with a lot of flowers
with a big smile on its face with a tired face

Write these sentences with one of the with-phrases from the box.
We have answered Number 1 for you.
1. Mr Brown had a house with a garden.
2. It was a pretty garden...
3. In a shop he saw an old doll...
4. The doll was a little old man...
5. Mr Brown always went to his office...
6. He found three letters...
7. On the bus there was an old lady...
8. The doll was in his case...

2. Write these sentences with sudden or suddenly.

1. He decided to walk home.
2. there was a voice in the bus.
3. All the people on the bus heard the voice.
4. Mr Brown heard a big CRASH.
5. There was a noise in the night.
6. there was a cry.

The Other Man

1. Answer the Why questions about this story. Begin your answers with Because. We have
answered Number 1 for you.
1. Why did the writer leave his home?
—Because he wanted to write a long book.
2. Why did he have to go to the shop?—Because...
3. Why did he look on the floor?
4. Why did he cry ‘Who’s there?’
5. Why did he decide to stay?
6. Why did he go for a walk?
7. He looked in the mirror again. Why was he frightened?
8. Why couldn’t the writer speak?

2. These are TAG questions and answers:

Was he a writer?
He was a writer, wasn’t he?—Yes, he was.
Was his pen on the table?
His pen wasn’t on the table, was it?—No, it wasn’t.
Make TAG questions about the story, and give the right answers.
1. Did he write books ?
2. Can you see him now?
3. Did he like his room?
4. Did he go out for cigarettes ?
5. He came back. Was his pen on the table?
6. ‘Who’s there?’W’as there an answer?
7. Did he hear a friend’s voice?
8. Did his friend see him?

The Charm

1. Make questions about the story with What, When, Where, Who, Whose. We give you the
short answers.
Example: Who?—Shy people.
(The story has: ‘I try to help shy people now.’) Question: Who does he try to help now?
1. Who?—The other soldiers.
2. What?—His fear.
3. Who?—An old man.
4. Where?—At the side of the road.
5. What?—The old man’s eyes.
6. Whose?—The old man’s.
7. Where?—The battle line.
8. When?—The next day.

2. Who said it, or thought it, or asked it?

Example: They’re laughing at me.
Answer: ‘They’re laughing at me,’ our hero thought.
1. The other soldiers aren’t afraid.
2. Thank you!
3. Are you a soldier?
4. You go in front.
5. I’m not really brave.
6. We’re going to die.
7. I can’t be brave without the charm.
8. Forward!