BOY: What, the one as big as me?
SCROOGE: What a delightful boy! It’s a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck!
BOY: It’s hanging there now.
SCROOGE: Is it? Go and buy it.
BOY: Walk-er!
SCROOGE: No, no, I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell ’em to bring it here, that I may give them directions where to take it. Come back with the man, and I’ll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes, and I’ll give you half a crown!
SCROOGE (to himself ): I’ll send it to Bob Cratchit’s! He shan’t know who sends it. It’s twice the size of Tiny Tim.
DICKENS: The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid for the turkey when the poulterer’s man arrived, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he cried.
Ray, hiding in the gloom at the back of the hall, could hardly believe his eyes or ears! Where was the little boy who had stood by the car, sniffing over his broken mask? Gone. Somewhere in among that Victorian costume, behind that Scrooge half-mask, he could see and hear a strong, confident, happy voice. And it wasn’t just because he had to pretend. Ray was sure of that. This was the sound of someone glad that he had just discovered a new place.
He may not have been there to see exactly how or when or why he had done it, Ray thought, but at least he was here to see that it had just happened. He moved toward Lisa and Eva . . . then stopped himself. Why should I interrupt them? He could see from behind how absorbed they were in the show.
DICKENS: Scrooge dressed himself all in his best, and at last got out into the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present — and walking with his hands behind him, Scrooge regarded every one with a delighted smile. He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humored fellows said:
FELLOWS: Good morning, sir! A Merry Christmas to you!
DICKENS: And Scrooge said often afterward, that of all the happy sounds he had ever heard, those were the happiest in his ears.
SCROOGE: My dear sir, how do you do? I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you, sir!
GENTLEMAN: Mr. Scrooge?
SCROOGE: Yes, that is my name, and I fear it may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness —
(Scrooge whispers in his ear.)
GENTLEMAN: Lord bless me! My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?
SCROOGE: If you please. Not a farthing less. A great many back payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favor?
GENTLEMAN TWO: My dear sir, I don’t know what to say to such munifi —
SCROOGE: Don’t say anything, please. Come and see me. Will you come and see me?
GENTLEMAN: I will!
SCROOGE: Thank’ee. I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!
DICKENS: He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned beggars, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk — that anything — could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon he turned his steps toward his nephew’s house.
SCROOGE: Fred!
NEPHEW: Why bless my soul! Who’s that?
SCROOGE: It’s I. Your Uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in, Fred?
DICKENS: Let him in! It is a mercy Fred didn’t shake his arm off. Scrooge was made to feel at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!
For just a moment, Harry’s mind wandered away from Shona being Dickens, wandered away from the play altogether, forward to tomorrow. Surely Dad wouldn’t need to go to the office tomorrow. No, he knew that the people doing business in Mumbai wouldn’t necessarily be off for Christmas, but surely, surely Dad would want to be there, when they ripped open the presents and sang carols . . . when they tried to make up their own, when Nan and Granddad would sit there not getting the lyrics, which was always, always, the best part of the morning.
He imagined himself and Eva tying Dad to the table so that he couldn’t suddenly look at his phone and say that he had to dash off and wouldn’t be long. That he couldn’t go out the door, a cloud of disappointment settling over the table.
DICKENS: Scrooge was early at the office next morning. Oh, he was early there. If he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That was the thing he had set his heart upon. And he did it; yes, he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was a full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come in.
Harry heard Miss Cavani’s voice in his head. “This is the hardest part of the play, Harry!” What she meant is that he had to go all the way back to the mean, pinched, nasty Scrooge here. Everyone in the hall watching, everyone in the play, had to believe this was old Scrooge come back and that he hadn’t changed.
SCROOGE: Hallo! What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?
BOB: I am very sorry, sir, I am behind my time.
SCROOGE: You are? Yes. I think you are. Step this way, if you please.
BOB: It’s only once a year, sir. It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir.
SCROOGE: Now, I’ll tell you what, my friend. I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore, and therefore, I am about to raise your salary!
The little boy up front who had called out Tiny Tim’s bit earlier shouted out a whoop. Harry heard it and whooped a bit inside himself. He looked again at Shona. He knew she would say the next bit in a way that everyone would find funny.
DICKENS: Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a straitjacket.
SCROOGE: A Merry Christmas, Bob! A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I’ll raise your salary, and do all I can to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas feast, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coalscuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit.
DICKENS: Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die . . .
Lisa cheered from the back, and it set off a cheer that ran around the auditorium. Shona paused to let it roll before going on.
DICKENS: To Tiny Tim, Scrooge was a second father. He became as good a friend, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.
Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and took little notice of them.
He had no further conversations with Spirits, and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well.
May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one!
The audience leapt to their feet. They clapped and cheered and called out, “Merry Christmas, everyone!”
Lisa looked at Eva and, in the midst of her pride that Harry had done so well, felt a twinge of regret that Ray wasn’t there. Well, she said to herself, as the cheers slowly subsided around them, there would be other shows; there would be other Christmases, it’s not too late . . . but . . . but . . . even so, if only he had been here this time.
And as she said that, she saw an expression on Eva’s face that seemed so extraordinary and so delighted, it couldn’t have been only because of the show — could it? And yet Eva was looking beyond her, behind her.
Lisa turned, and there was Ray.
And at the same time, as Harry and
Shona and the cast took their bows, broke the line, and waved to moms, dads, grans and granddads, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, and teachers, Harry saw that move of Eva’s and Mom’s, the turn and . . . who was it they were looking at? It was hard to see with the lights still shining in his face . . . Yes, no, yes!
It was Dad. He had come after all. He had seen some of it. He was here, right here at the very moment that people were clapping for him, that Shona was hugging him — OK, embarrassing but nice — and the cast was pushing him to the front of the stage to take a bow all on his own . . . Dad was seeing this too. And he could hear Eva in and among all the cheers and shouts calling out “Harry” in her high voice.
Harry waved and saw quite clearly Dad standing there, doing Dad-clapping. And he saw Mom holding Eva’s hand on one side of her and putting her arm around Dad’s middle with the other, while he went on and on and on Dad-clapping. What was that song Mom puts on in the car, he thought, something about a “change” . . . wasn’t it?
Charles Dickens is one of the most famous English writers in history.
Born in Portsmouth, England, in 1812, he is known for works such as Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, and David Copperfield. In 1843 he wrote A Christmas Carol, at a time when Victorians were embracing new Christmas traditions, such as Christmas trees and carol singing.
It was published on December 19, and the first edition sold out by Christmas Eve. Dickens read the book to audiences 127 times in his lifetime — his audiences were old and young, rich and poor, and all related to Dickens’s core message of kindness and festive joy.
A Christmas Carol has inspired countless films, TV shows, and retellings — including the one you are holding now.
Michael Rosen is one of the best-known figures in the children’s book world, renowned for his work as a poet, performer, broadcaster, professor, scriptwriter, and author of classic books such as We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. He was the British Children’s Laureate from 2007 to 2009.
After training at Liverpool School of Art, Tony Ross worked as a cartoonist, graphic designer, advertising art director, and art lecturer. Today he is best known for the Horrid Henry and Little Princess series of books, as well as illustrating books for David Walliams.
Text copyright © 2017 by Michael Rosen
Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Tony Ross
Party section illustrations by Jason Cox
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First U.S. electronic edition 2018
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number pending
The illustrations were done in ink and watercolor.
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