-Author's Note:

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The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Jane her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had started. Dudley had already broken his new cine-camera, crashed his remote- control aeroplane and, first time on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Jane was glad school was over, but there was no escaping her cousins. Daisy with her gang of giggling girls, Victoria, Charlotte, Mary and Lousie, who spent almost every day at the house playing various elaborate games with Daiy's huge mountain of barbie and bratz dolls.

Then there was Dudley, with his gang of thugish boys. who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.

The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favourite sport: Jane-hunting.

This was why Jane spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around the small village of little whinging, hiding amongst the huge woodland that sat to the east of the village, that separated the house form the motorway.

Whilst she sat there, hiding from her cousin and his thugs, she thought about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope.

When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, she wouldn't be with Dudley or Daisy. Daisy was joining her older brother, Dudley at the prestigious Grammor School one town over. Jane, on the other hand, was going to

Stonewall High, the local comprehensive. Both Dudley and Daisy thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet first day at Stonewall," Dudley told Jane one morning as she was finishing her morning chores. "'Want to come upstairs and practise?"

"No thanks," said Jane with a small smile. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick." Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what she'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Daisy and Dudley into town to buy their new school things, Leaving Jane at Mrs Figg's. Mrs Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Jane watch television and gave her a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Daisy paraded around the living-room for the family in her brand-new uniform. Dudley too had been forced to put on his own Unfiorm, so that Aunt Petunia could take photos of the pair of them.

The children at the Smeltings Grammar School, wore traditional uniforms. The boys uniform consited of black three peice suits - trousers (short in summer, long in winter) wasitcoat and blazer jacker, white shirt (short sleeved for summer, long sleeved for winter) black socks and shoes, a teal coloured tartan tie and a straw hat, with teal coloured tartan ribbon, called a boater in summer and a teal coloured tartan flat cap for winter.

The girls uniform consisted off a white blouse (short sleeved for summer, long sleeved for winter) teal coloured, tartan printed, pleated knee length skirt and matching bow tie. Black tights for winter, black knee high socks for summer, a black blazer, and a straw hat, with teal coloured tartan ribbon, called a boater in summer and a teal coloured tartan cloche hat for winter.

As he looked at Daisy in her new uniform, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Daisykins, she looked so beautiful and grown up alongside Dudley who looked as handsome and grown-up as ever.

Jane didn't trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen next morning when Jane went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. Jane went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What's this?" she asked Aunt Petunia, whose lips tightened as they always did if Jane dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," Aunt Petunia said shrilly. Jane looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't realise it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Daisy's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Jane seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. she sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High – like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Daisy, Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, all with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Jane's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley and Daisy began squabbling over something or other as they flopped down at the table,

They heard the click of the letter-box and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the post, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his

paper.

"Make Daisy get it."

"Get the post, Daisy."

"Make Jane get it."

"Get the post Jane"

"No, make one of them get it" scoffed Jane

"Get the post girl, unless you want to feel the back of me hand on your stupid face" snarled Uncle Vernon.

Jane sighed and went to get the post. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was holidaying on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and – a letter for Jane

.

Jane picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? Jane had no friends, no other relatives – she didn't belong to the library so she'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Miss Jane. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Jane saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter 'H'.

"Hurry up, Girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter-bombs?" He chuckled at his own, rathier feeble attempt at a joke.

Jane went back to the kitchen, still staring at her letter. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust and flipped over the postcard.
"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk …"

"Dad!" said Daisy suddenly. 'Dad, Jane's got something!"

Jane was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Jane, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the greyish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Jane, Daisy and Dudley were all still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his fist. Daisy, lunged at her parents are tried snatching the letter out of her mother's hand. Uncle Vernon grabbed hold of her so they looked like they were wrestling to stop Daisy snatching ti from Aunt Petunia. Dudley then started wrestling too, so that Uncle Vernon ended up with his hands fun, as he tried to hold both Daisy and Dudley back as they tried to get to the letter.

"Will you too pack it in" Uncle Vernon snapped

"I want to read that letter" Dudley said loudly.

"No I want to read, it" squealed Daisy shrilly

"ENOUGH" yelled Jane furiously "I want to read the letter, and considering the fact that it is my letter I think I have every right"

"Get out, all of you," Shrilled Aunt Petunia, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Nobody moved.

'Let me see it!' demanded Dudley.

"I want to see it too" Daisy squealed

"I WANT MY LETTER!" Jane shouted.

"YOU HEARD YOUR MOTHER OUT!'" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Daisy and

Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall. He then turned to Jane.

"YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT GIRL" he snarled before grabbing Jane's arm harshly and slinging her out of the Kitchen too, no sooner had Jane been flung head first into the hallway carpet, Uncle Vernon was slamming the kitchen door behind her.

Jane, Daisy and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Daisy and Jane, with her glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on their stomachs to listen at the crack between door and floor. Jane squashed right against the wall, with Daisy's elbow in her ribs.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want –"

Jane could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer … yes, that's best … we won't do anything …"

"But –" Aunt Petunia said, her voice quivering with fear, before she could finish Uncle Vernon interrupted her with a yell.

"I'M NOT HAVING ONE IN THE HOUSE, PETUNIA! DIDN'T WE SWEAR WHEN WE TOOK HER IN WE'D STAMP OUT THAT DANGEROUS NONSENSE?" As he yelled Jane could hear his big fist pound the table with each word.

"Yes we did" said Aunt Petunia is a small, defeated voice. Dudley, Daisy and Jane all scrambled away from the door as they heard Unce Vernon walk towards it. He didn't say anything to them as he left for work.

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Jane in her cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Jane, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Jane angrily. "It had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er – yes, girl, um Jane – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking … you're really getting a bit big for it … we think it might be nice if you moved into the attic room"

"Why?" Jane said supsiciously, it was not like her relatives to be kind.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped uncle Vernon. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had three floors, the ground floor had the two large reception rooms, a large dining room and the kitchen and well as the door leading to the coservatory. The first floor held a family bathroom and four bedrooms, one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept and one for Daisy. The top floor was more of an attic than anything. There was a small bathroom and a single bedroom that had previously been used as Dudley and Daisy's playroom.

It had sloping roofs and a large square window that had a window seat. The walls were a golden yellow colour, the paint was chipping. The floor had a dark maroon coloured carpet and their were golden coloured curtains at the window.

It only took Jane one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the low , rustic looking wooden bed that uncle Vernon had purchased from a seocnd hand shop that day, and stared around her.

The room had been hastily cleaned of all Daisy and Dudley's broken toys and a mismatched collection of second hand furniture had been hastily shoved into it. There was a wardrobe, set of draws, a desk which was currently supported under one leg by a phone book, a rickety chair and a large wooden storage chest.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley and Daisy bawling at their mother:

"I don't want her in there … I need that room … make her get out …"

"Its not fair thats out room"

Jane sighed and stretched out on the bed. The soft padded duvet felt comfortable underneath her small body. The pillows and duvet covers were covered with an autumnal, red tartan patten that seemed to match the room perfectly.

Yesterday Jane would have given anything to be up here. Today she'd rather be back in her cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley and Daisy were both in shock. Dudley had screamed, whacked his father and been sick on purpose, Daisy had kicked her mother and thrown her tortoise through the greenhouse roof and cried until she'd been sick, but it made no difference they still didn't have their room back.

Jane was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing she'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the post arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Jane, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him muttering all the way down the hall. Then he shouted,

"There's another one! Miss Jane Potter, The Attic Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive –"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Jane and Daisy right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Jane had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind, and Daisy had launched herself at her father's legs, clinging to the right one.

After a minute of

confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by Dudley's flailing hands or Jane's dangling feet, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Jane's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Jane. "Daisy, Dudley – go – just go."

Jane walked round and round her new room. Someone knew she had moved out of her cupboard and they seemed to know she hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time she'd make sure they didn't fail. Jane had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Jane turned it off quickly and dressed silently. She mustn't wake the Dursleys. Jane stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. She was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Her heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall towards the front door –

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Jane leapt into the air, she'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat, something that was alive! Lights clicked on upstairs and to her horror Jane realised that the big squashy something had been her uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Jane didn't do exactly what she'd been trying to do.

Uncle Vernon shouted at Jane for about an hour and then told her to go and make a cup of tea. Jane shuffled miserably off into the kitchen, and by the time she got back, the

post had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Jane could see three letters addressed in green ink.

"I want" she began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before her eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the letter-box.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon." said Aunt Petunia softly,

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of cake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no fewer than twelve letters arrived for Jane. As they couldn't go through the letter-box they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs toilet.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. As he worked, he hummed 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen', nobody commented on the fact that he was humming a christmas song in July. they were all too scared, for Uncle Vernon had a wild look in his eyes, and was jumping at every little noise they made.

On Saturday, things really began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Jane found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living-room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food mixer.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked, looking at Jane in amazement and curiosity. Daisy looked at Jane with equal curiosity and waited for an answer. Jane just shook her head, she had no idea what was happening.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them happily as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today –" he practicly sang, nobody said anything. Dudley and Daisy were looking at their mother worridly, Aunt Peunia was very pale, her large eyes filled with worry.

And then something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as she was about to speek. It caught Uncle Vernon sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Jane leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!" Uncle Vernon seized Jane around the waist and threw her into the hall. Jane landed in a heap, pain radiation throughout her body, she turned and saw Aunt Petunia, Daisy and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut.

They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes, ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his moustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding towards the motorway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, video and computer in his sports bag. Daisy too was looking miserable as she had been yelled at severely for trying to pack every single doll she had into her suitcase, she had then been forced to unpack everything and had been supervised by Aunt Petunia as she repacked only her clothes and washbag.

They drove and they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turning and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off … shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was complaining loudly and Daisy was howling. They had never had such a bad day in their lives before. Daisy was extremely hungry, and Dudley had missed five television programmes that hhe'd wanted to see and hhe'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Daisy, Dudley and Jane all shared a room. There were only two, twin beds that had damp, musty sheets. Daisy and Dudley got the beds, while Jane curled up on the floor with a pile of moth eaten blankets,

Dudley, who'd fallen asleep almost immediately snored loudly and Dasiy, who cried herself to sleep, sniffed and sniveled as she slept.

Jane did not sleep, instead she stayed awake, sitting on the window-sill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering …

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"Scuse me, but is one of you Miss Jane. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk." She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Miss Jane Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Jane made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked her hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining-room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a ploughed field, halfway across a suspension bridge and at the top of a multi-storey car park.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Daisy asked Aunt Petunia tearfully later that afternoon. Dudley smiled reasuringly at her but Jane saw the anxiety and fear in his eyes. Aunt Petunia said nothing but gave a weak smile at her children.

Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car and Daisy began to cry once more. Dudley whined loudly.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "there's a match on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television"

Monday. This reminded Jane of something. If it was Monday, and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television. Then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Jane's eleventh birthday. Of course, her birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursleys had given her a supermarket ham and cheese sandwich, a packet of crips and a bottle of pop, the year before they hag given her pair of Uncle Vernon's old woolen socks.

Still, it wasn't her birthday every day and tommorow she was turning eleven.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said clapping him hands together. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out to sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together again, "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowing boat bobbing in the iron-grey water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. 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 squashed sandwich, and a packet of crisps each and five cans of pop. He tried to start a fire but the empty crisp packets 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 post. Jane privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her 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 and Daisy on each of the moth-eaten sofas. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door and Jane was left to find the softest bit of floor she could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Jane couldn't sleep. She shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores and Daisy's sleepy murmurings were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Jane that she would be eleven in ten minutes' time. As Jane lay and watched her birthday tick nearer, she woundered if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter-writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Jane heard something give a loud pop outside. She hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although she 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 she'd be

able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? One minute to go and she'd be eleven. Thirty seconds … twenty … ten – nine – maybe she'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him – three – two – one –

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

Jane sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.