Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
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Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published in Australia by Penguin Books Australia Ltd 1989
First published in Great Britain by Blackie and Son Limited 1989
Published in Puffin Books 1999
Published in Puffin Modern Classics 2003
Copyright © Gleitzman McCaul Pty Ltd, 1989
Introduction copyright © Julia Eccleshare, 2003
Illustrated by Tony Ross
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-0-141-96160-6
PUFFIN MODERN CLASSICS
Morris Gleitzman was born and educated in England. He went to Australia with his family in 1969 and studied for a degree. In 1974 he began work with the ABC, left to become a full-time film and television writer in 1978 and has written numerous television scripts. He has two children and lives in Melbourne, but visits England regularly. Now one of the best-selling children’s authors in Australia, his first children’s book was The Other Facts of Life, based on his award-winning screenplay. This was followed by the highly acclaimed Two Weeks with the Queen, and he has since written many other books for children including Toad Rage, Bumface, and Totally Wicked! and Deadly with Paul Jennings.
Visit Morris at his web site: www.morrisgleitzman.com
‘Though this hardly sounds like a light-hearted read, everyone who’s read the book has enjoyed a good laugh on almost every page … emotionally accurate and fulfilling’
– Books for Keeps
‘Deals accurately with relationships and feelings’
– Bookseller
‘Refusal to accept a person’s imminent death is tackled with humour and sensitivity’
– Junior Education
‘Told with sensitivity, realism and a great deal of humour’
– Junior Bookshelf
‘The jokes heighten rather than diminish the book’s serious implications’
– The Times
‘An extraordinary read with a joyous ending of sorts’
– Listener
THE OTHER FACTS OF LIFE
SECOND CHILDHOOD
MISERY GUTS
WORRY WARTS
PUPPY FAT
BLABBER MOUTH
STICKY BEAK
GIFT OF THE GAB
BELLY FLOP
WATER WINGS
BUMFACE
ADULTS ONLY
TOAD RAGE
TOAD HEAVEN
BOY OVERBOARD
DEADLY!
TOTALLY WICKED!
by Julia Eccleshare
Puffin Modern Classics series editor
Colin’s attempts to find someone who will make his brother better and his absolute belief that his brother can be cured capture the naive optimism of childhood. Humorously told so that it is as much a comedy as a tragedy, it’s a story in which the suspension of disbelief is absolute and Morris Gleitzman tells it without ever striking a false note of adult intervention.
Full of ‘issues’, but never preaching, Two Weeks with the Queen examines how children are told – or most commonly not told – about death in an honest way. But Gleitzman tackles not just one taboo subject, but two. If dying is uncommon in books for children, AIDS is even more so and the touching relationship between Ted and his beloved partner, Griff, is plainly told without falling into the trap of creating gay stereotypes. Despite death being the underlying theme, Morris Gleitzman is never mawkishly sentimental – though it is hard to read Two Weeks with the Queen without crying.
Colin’s journey of discovery is eloquent. The circumstances that drove him to make it and the help he found along the way made this an unusual book at the time and it has remained an outstanding work ever since. Its vernacular speech and short, episodic structure make it seem deceptively simple, but it is a story that lingers in the mind, leaving an optimistic note despite the tragic heart of it.
The Queen looked out across the Mudfords’ living room and wished everyone a happy Christmas.
Colin scowled.
Easy for you, he thought. Bet you got what you wanted. Bet if you wanted a microscope you got a microscope. Bet your tree was covered with microscopes. Bet nobody gave you daggy school shoes for Christmas.
Colin looked away from the Queen’s flickering face on the TV screen and down at the shiny black shoes peeping up at him from their box on the threadbare carpet.
Yuk.
The Queen obviously couldn’t see them because she continued her Christmas Message without once chucking up.
‘… ridding our world of suffering and pain is not an easy goal,’ she was saying, ‘but we will achieve that goal if it is our sincere wish.’
Colin’s sincere wish was that the shoes would burst into flames and explode into pieces. But they didn’t, even though they were being shot at by a low-flying MiG fighter plane.
Colin stared out the window at the dusty paddocks. The shimmering glare was painful to look at, but not as painful as the sight of Luke playing happily with his model plane. Why should that little whinger get exactly what he wanted, right down to the colour of the pilot’s helmet and the number of napalm canisters under the wings?
It wasn’t fair.
‘… fair share of the world’s resources for all her people,’ the Queen was saying.
Colin looked at his parents. He hoped the Queen was making them feel guilty.
It didn’t look as though she was. People who are riddled with guilt don’t usually cuddle up on the settee and fan each other with bits torn off a beer carton.
Colin stared at them for a while but that didn’t plunge them into guilt either, so he went back to watching the Queen.
He wondered what it would be like to be that important. So important that it didn’t even matter if you spoke like a total prawn, millions of people all over the world would still sit down on Christmas afternoon and say shhhh and listen to you.
In his head, Colin started composing a letter. ‘Dear Your Majesty The Queen, I would be very grateful if you could send some tips on how to grab people’s attention and make them listen to you, understand what you want for Christmas etc. Even though I’m twelve I might as well be a lump of wood for all the attention I get around this place. Also some tips on how to stop younger brothers getting everything. I understand that chopping their heads off has been used a bit in your family. This is frowned on in Australia so something legal please …’
Several loud explosions echoed around the shoe box as Luke roared in for another attack on the aircraft carrier HMS Yukky School Shoes.
‘Luke,’ said Mum, ‘we’re trying to listen to the Queen.’
‘I don’t feel well,’ said Luke.
Serves you right, thought Colin, for having three lots of ice-cream with your Chrissie pud.
‘Serves you right,’ said Mum, ‘for having four lots of ice-cream with your Chrissie pud.’
Four? Colin couldn’t believe his ears. When he was eight he’d only been allowed two. Young kids today didn’t know how well off they were.
‘I feel sick,’ said Luke.
‘Try keeping the racket down a bit,’ said Dad, ‘and you’ll feel better.’
‘Probably a strain of heat-resistant bacteria in the Chrissie pud,’ said Colin. ‘Pity we haven’t got a microscope in the family, I could have run some tests and spotted it.’
Colin saw Mum and Dad swap a little glance that he wasn’t meant to see.
They knew. They actually knew what he was busting for and they’d still given him shoes. Boy, wait till he had time to write that anonymous letter to the child welfare department.
Luke came over and held out the MiG in a skinny hand.
‘Wanna go?’
Colin shook his head. That’s all he needed, charity from an eight year old.
Luke’s pale brow furrowed for a second, then he was away, inflicting serious artillery damage to an already battered cane chair.
A gust of scorching wind swept in from the Western Plains and made the plastic branches of the Christmas tree flap wildly. Something in the kitchen started to bang.
‘Col, shut that screen door, old mate,’ said Dad.
Colin dragged himself to his feet.
‘Luke’d get there quicker,’ he muttered, ‘he’s got turbo thrusters and I’ve only got lace-ups.’
But Mum and Dad’s eyes were already glued back on the TV screen.
‘… in these difficult times,’ the Queen was saying, ‘we have to work and struggle for privilege and good fortune.’
‘Bull,’ said Colin loudly as he slouched out to the kitchen, ‘some people are born with it.’
Mum and Dad stared at the Queen.
Colin stared at Luke.
As Colin wedged a chicken bone under the screen door to stop it flapping open again, he heard the music playing at the end of the Queen’s Christmas Message. Then he heard footsteps behind him. He straightened up. It was Mum and Dad.
Mum gave a little cough to clear her throat.
‘Love,’ she said, ‘about the microscope …’
‘Next time, eh?’ said Dad.
They looked at Colin.
Colin looked at them.
He could hear Luke in the lounge, shooting enemy planes out of the sky with a faint roar.
‘We just couldn’t stretch to one this time,’ said Mum, ‘not with you needing a new pair of good shoes and all. But don’t forget, it’s your birthday in less than five months.’
And it’s Luke’s birthday in less than two months, thought Colin bitterly. Wonder what he’ll get? A working model of the Jervis Bay Naval Depot with matching aircraft carriers? A trip round the world? A car?
‘They’re pretty snazzy shoes,’ Dad was saying. ‘Bloke could end up Prime Minister in shoes like those.’
‘I’ve got shoes.’ Colin pointed down to his brown elastic-sided boots. OK, they were a bit scuffed from when he’d borrowed Doug Beale’s trail-bike and the brakes had failed and he’d had to use his feet to stop, but they’d rub up with a bit of spit and chicken fat.
Dad sighed.
‘Wish we could all wear boots,’ he said, ‘but if you want people to take notice of you in this world, you’ve got to dress proper and wear decent shoes. Look at me with the Wheat Board. Luke was born on the Sunday, I got the shoes on the Monday, landed the job on the Tuesday arvo.’
Dad grinned and gave Colin a pretend punch in the guts. Colin tried to smile but his face felt like uncooked Chrissie pud.
Mum looked at him closely, concerned.
‘Love, is there anything else?’
Colin was still trying to work out how to explain without sounding like the one thing Dad hated (a whinger) when they heard the thump from the lounge.
They hurried in.
Luke lay on the floor, eyes closed, very pale, very still.