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The twins are in bed when it happens. They hear a sound like a wet cabbage hitting the wall, then a clattering on the roof tiles, followed a little later by a tapping at the window. It’s a girl with a broken wing – and she’s come to stay.   Who is she? Where has she come from? And more importantly, what does she want? The twins have no idea. Perhaps she’s their guardian angel? But would an angel have filthy feet and snore? 

A delightful angel-with-attitude story for ages 7+.

Reviews:

'The combination of Dyer’s enchanting tale and Peter Bailey’s delightful illustrations is irresistible.' SCOTSMAN  

'Dyer writes in accessible, rhythmic language, and the story is perfect to read aloud.' CHILD EDUCATION

'A substantial story but easy to read and full of fun.' CAROUSEL

'Good books for this age group are often hard to find, but this has been a particularly good year in which the best of the bunch is The Girl with the Broken Wing by Heather Dyer.' DAILY MAIL

'It’s hard to find books for younger readers who have the intellect but not the stamina for full-length novels, but Heather Dyer effortlessly fills the gap with The Girl with the Broken Wing.' SUNDAY TELEGRAPH

'Intriguing and well-written, this is a story that begs for a sequel …' BOOKS FOR KEEPS

Richard and Judy’s Best Children’s Books Ever selection, 2007.

Outstanding International Books 2006 (U.S. Board on Books for Young People and the Children’s Book Council).

Ottakar's Book of The Month, October 2005.

Chimneys can be dangerous. Imagine it: a dark night and you’re flying low over the rooftops, barely skimming the tiles. The wind is gusting and buffeting you off-course and the rain is getting in your eyes so you can hardly see where you’re going. And then, just as you’re coming in to land there’s a sudden gust of wind and – WHAM!

The twins were in bed when it happened. They heard a sound like a wet cabbage hitting a wall, then a clattering on the tiles – then nothing but the wind wuthering round the eaves once more.

            ‘What was that?’ whispered James.

            Amanda, who slept behind a curtain on the other side of the attic, switched on her bedside light and they lay very still, listening.

            Rap-rap! came a knock on the skylight.

            ‘Who’s there?’ said James. He climbed out of bed and stood under the window, and there he saw a startled face framed by a tangle of windblown hair. ‘It’s a girl!’ he cried.

            Together, the twins dragged across the big red chair from the corner, and James stood on it to reach the catch.

            ‘Open up!’ yelled the girl in a muffled voice.

            James opened the window and a gust of rain blew into the room.         

           ‘Thanks,’ gasped the girl, climbing through – and a moment later she was standing there before them, dripping on the carpet. To the twins’ astonishment they saw that she was barefoot and wearing only a thin, white cotton dress. But most astonishing of all, hanging from her shoulders and reaching nearly to her feet, was a pair of long white wings.