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For Mary Tsenti – J.W.

For Doreen and Pat x – B.M.S.

Heidi by Johanna Spyri frst published in 1880

This text adaptation by Jeanne Willis, illustrated by Briony May Smith, first published 2019 by Nosy Crow Ltd, The Crow’s Nest, 14 Baden Place, Crosby Row, London SE1 1YW www.nosycrow.com

ISBN 978 1 78800 474 9

Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd.

Text adaptation copyright © Jeanne Willis 2019

Illustrations copyright © Briony May Smith 2019

The rights of Jeanne Willis to be identifed as the author and of Briony May Smith to be identifed as the illustrator of this work have been asserted. All rights reserved.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Nosy Crow Ltd.

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

Printed in China. Papers used by Nosy Crow are made from wood grown in sustainable forests.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

illustrated by Briony May Smith
retold by Jeanne Willis

Soaring high above the Swiss Alps , the golden eagle spied them struggling up the narrow mountain path that led to Dörfli . . . a little girl with crimson cheeks and a young lady who was walking far too fast.

“Hurry up, Heidi,” frowned Aunt Dete, “and, no, I can’t see Grandpa’s house yet. Yes, it is a long way, but I’m tired too.”

Heidi let go of her hand and pushed her dark, damp curls out of her eyes.

“I’m not tired. I’m hot!” she said.

She was five, but looked bigger because Aunt Dete had insisted on bundling her up in all her winter clothes to save packing them. Despite the scorching summer sun, Heidi wore three dresses, a thick shawl and hobnail boots which were so heavy she could hardly lift her feet. They had walked for two hours, but Aunt Dete would not slow down.

When they arrived at Dörfli, Dete’s old neighbours rushed out to greet her, but she hurried past with her nose in the air.

“Wait!” called her friend Barbel. “I haven’t seen you for ages. Won’t you stop for a chat?”

As Barbel finally caught up with Dete, Heidi sat down in the meadow to catch her breath. Surrounded by daisies, she amused herself by splitting their bright green stalks and threading them into a chain. She had nearly made a full necklace when she heard the sound of tinkling bells and looked up.

In the distance, she saw a little shepherd boy herding goats and, longing to play, she hurried after him. Aunt Dete was so busy chatting to her friend, she didn’t see her skip off.

“Where are you taking Heidi?” asked Barbel.

“To live with Grandpa Alps,” said Dete. “I’ve been offered a job as a servant in Frankfurt.”

Barbel stared at her in horror. “The poor child! How could you, Dete? Everyone is afraid of that grumpy old man. He hardly ever comes to the village and when he does, he never says a word. No wonder he lives alone. It’s no place for a little girl.”

“It’s the only place,” said Dete.

“I’ve had to look after Heidi since she became an orphan and, believe me, it wasn’t easy. It’s his turn now. Sorry, but I have to think of myself for once.”

Luckily, Heidi heard nothing of this. In an effort to catch up with the shepherd boy, she kicked off her boots, stripped to her petticoat and ran barefoot through the clover like a goat kid.

“Hey . . . wait for me!” she called . . .

“Are the goats all yours? How many? What are their names?”

He spat out the straw he was chewing and looked her up and down.

“Why are you staring?” asked Heidi. “Have you never seen a girl before?”

“Not like you,” he grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Heidi,” she said.

“Heidi, hmm?” He rolled her name round his mouth like a boiled sweet.

“And who are you, funny boy?” she asked.

“Everyone knows who I am,” he replied. “I’m Peter. Let’s run like the wind!” And with a loud whoop, he took her hand and they ran off hollering and laughing through the waves of long grass after the goats.

“What is the snowy white one called?” asked Heidi.

“Little Swan,” said Peter. “And see the brown one kicking its heels up? That’s Little Bear.”

Peter was so keen to tell Heidi everything about them, she lost all track of time.

When they finally caught up with Aunt Dete, she took one look at Heidi and shrieked, “Where are your clothes, you little madam?”

“Down there.” Heidi pointed.

Aunt Dete peered over the edge of the mountain at the abandoned pile of clothes.

“Go and get them and put them back on at once!” she said.

But Heidi shook her head. “I don’t WANT any clothes!”

“What you want doesn’t matter,” said Aunt Dete. “Peter, run along and fetch Heidi’s things.”

“Can’t, Miss, I’m late,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets defiantly.

Grumbling, Aunt Dete offered him a penny and, punching the air in triumph, Peter sprang off to do as she’d asked.

Grandpa Alps was sitting outside his hut when Aunt Dete and the children clambered into view. He looked as stony-faced as the mountains above him. Plucking up her courage, Heidi ran towards him with a big smile.

“Hello, Grandpa!” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He jerked backwards, grabbing the edge of the bench to steady himself.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said, giving Heidi an icy stare.

Heidi stared back, fascinated by his eyebrows, which were so white and woolly they reminded her of sheep. He blinked first. Thinking it was a game, Heidi darted forward to kiss him.

“I’m so happy to see you, Grandpa,” she said. “Aren’t you glad I came?”

He pulled away as if the kiss had stung his cheek.

“Uncle, why must you be like this? Heidi is your granddaughter,” said Dete.

“So?” he growled. “Why bring her to me?”

“I can’t look after her any more,” said Dete. “You’re her only family, so she has to live with you.”

“Me?” he roared. “And what am I supposed to do with a child?”

“Look after her. Unless you want the villagers to gossip about you even more,” retorted Dete sharply.

Grandpa leapt up angrily and waved his stick at her. “Be off! Go back to where you came from and leave me alone!”

Terrified, Aunt Dete picked up her skirts and fled down the mountain without saying goodbye.

“Oh dear, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now, Grandpa,” said Heidi.

But Grandpa wouldn’t look at her. Grumbling to himself, he went back to his bench and sat down in silence.

Heidi stood there patiently for a while but, as Grandpa refused to take any notice of her, she skipped off to explore the goat shed. It was empty, so she made up a game by whistling back at the wind as it whipped through the fir trees. After a while, she wondered if Grandpa was missing her at all and ran back to him.

“What do you want?” he asked fiercely.

“I want to see what’s inside your house,” she said. “Please will you show me, Grandpa?”

Grandpa sighed and got to his feet. “Bring your bundle of clothes,” he grunted.

Heidi grabbed them and, holding them at arm’s length, followed him inside.

“I shan’t want them any more,” she announced. “I want to go about like the goats!”

She looked around the room. In the corner was a hearth with a copper kettle hanging above it. There wasn’t much furniture, just a table, a chair, a three-legged stool, a bed and a tall cupboard which Grandpa used to store everything: food, plates, cups and clothes.

“Put your stuff in there,” he said. He watched as Heidi hid her bundle deep under a pile of winter clothes and, despite himself, he smiled.

“Where shall I sleep, Grandpa?” asked Heidi.

Grandpa sighed. “It’s up to you. I don’t really care.”

Heidi climbed up the ladder into the hayloft. Through the round window, she could see right into the valley.

“I’ll sleep here in the hay!” she said. “See how lovely it is?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I know all about it,” said Grandpa, bringing her some sacking to use as a cover.

“Thank you!” said Heidi.

After they’d made the bed, Heidi laid the table while Grandpa toasted cheese on a long fork. As it bubbled and browned, it filled the room with a warm, comforting smell.

“I’m so hungry,” said Heidi. “Did you make that cheese, Grandpa?”

“Yes,” he said, “but the goats made the milk.”

She fetched the stool, but she was much too small to reach her bowl.

“It’s fine, Grandpa,” she said, resting her chin on the table. “I will grow.”

He tried not to laugh. “You’ll be too low even if you sit in my chair.”

“Never mind,” said Heidi. “I’ll use my lap as a table.” She picked up her hat and, placing it upside down on her knees, she sat her bowl in the crown.

“That’s an odd arrangement,” said Grandpa.

“Well, if I spill any cheese, it will land in my hat and not on your clean floor,” she explained.

“I see!” said Grandpa. “Very sensible. Now, eat up. There’s nothing of you.”

Later, when Grandpa went out to the shed with his saw, Heidi followed. She stood by his side, making patterns in the sawdust with her finger as he cut through a stick of timber. “You’re making a bit of a mess, Grandpa.”

“I’m making you a higher stool,” he said.

“Oh, you are kind, Grandpa,” she said. “No one has ever made me a stool before.”

“It’s just a stool,” he said quickly.

“It’s nothing special.”

“It is to me,” replied Heidi as she watched him carefully sand away the little splinters.

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