MACMILLAN READERS

INTERMEDIATE LEVEL

CHARLES DICKENS

David Copperfield
Retold by Elizabeth Walker

MACMILLAN
 Contents
A Note About This Story 4
The Places in This Story 6
1 My Early Days 7
2 Friends and Enemies 12
3 I Am Sent Away 18
4 School 22
5 I Begin Work 28
6 I Begin a New Life 32
7 I Begin to Do Very Well 38
8 I Meet Old Friends 43
9 My Life Changes 48
10 I Fall in Love 51
11 Some Old Friends Turn Up Again 57
12 Uriah Heep 64
13 I Am Married 68
14 Little Emily Comes Home 72
15 That Villain Heep! 77
16 My Dora 85
17 The Storm 87
18 Leaving England 90
19 Happiness 95
20 Afterwards 98
Points for Understanding 101
Glossary 104
 1
My Early Days

M y name is David Copperfield and I was born in the

county10 of Suffolk, in the east of England. This book
is the story of my life. Will I be the hero of my own story? You
must read it and decide for yourself.
I never knew my father. He died before I was born. When
this story begins, my mother had been a widow11 for six months.
She was living in our big old house in a little village called
Blunderstone. One afternoon in March, my mother was sitting
by the fire, crying quietly to herself. Her baby would be born
soon – a baby that would never know its father. My mother felt
lonely and sad.
The room was very quiet. Then, suddenly, there was a
tapping sound at the window. My mother, who was easily
frighened, looked up quickly.
There was an old lady in the garden. She was looking in at
the window, with her face pressed against the glass. My mother
stood up and her heart began to beat very fast. She was so
frightened, that she almost fainted.
‘Who is it? What do you want?’ she whispered.
The old lady, who was tall and thin, tapped on the window
again. She was wearing spectacles and her bonnet12 was very
old-fashioned. My mother, who had now recogized the old
lady, hurried to open the front door.
The old lady spoke first.
‘You must be Clara – Mrs David Copperfield,’ she said in a
sharp voice. ‘I am Miss Trotwood – Miss Betsy Trotwood. We
haven’t met before. But I’m sure you have heard of me. I am
your late husband’s aunt.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ my mother replied. ‘Please come in.’

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 My Early Days

Miss Betsy Trotwood followed my mother into the sitting-

room and sat down by the fire.
‘Your husband told you about me, didn’t he?’ the old lady
asked.
My mother nodded. ‘Yes, he did,’ she said. ‘My dear husband
– your nephew – often talked about his Aunt Betsy. He spoke
of you just before he … died.’
My poor mother began to cry again.
‘Well, here I am,’ Miss Betsy said. ‘Sit down, child. Let me
look at you.’
My mother was very pretty, with a sweet, pale face and
long, fair curls.
Aunt Betsy shook her head sadly and gently touched my
mother’s pretty hair. ‘When are you expecting your child13?’ the
old lady asked. ‘You are not much more than a baby yourself.’
My mother began to cry more than ever. ‘Very soon,’ she
said. ‘I am so frightened. I am afraid that I shall die and my
baby too!’
‘Nonsense,’ Miss Betsy said. ‘You won’t die and neither will
your little girl.’
‘The baby may be a boy,’ my mother said quietly.
‘I don’t think so,’ Miss Betsy replied. ‘I’m sure that the baby
will be a girl. Her name will be Betsy Trotwood Copperfield.
I will help you look after her, I will teach her to think for
herself!’
‘Thank you,’ my mother whispered. ‘I am feeling rather
faint,’ she went on. ‘Do you think …?’
‘Of course, you need a cup of tea. I’ll call your servant.
What’s her name?’
‘Peggotty.’
‘Peggotty? Who gave her that strange name?’ my Aunt
Betsy asked.
‘It’s her family name,’ my mother explained. ‘Her first name
is Clara, like mine. So we … I … call her Peggotty.’

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 My Early Days

My aunt shook her head sadly. Then she got up and

opened the door. ‘Peggotty!’ she called. ‘Bring some tea! Mrs
Copperfield is not well!’
Peggotty arrived a few minutes later with tea and some
lighted candles. Peggotty stared at my aunt and then looked
anxiously14 at my mother.
‘Something has upset you, ma’am,’ Peggotty said.
‘Oh, Peggotty,’ my mother replied. ‘I feel very ill. I was not
expecting Miss Trotwood and she frightened me a little.’
Then my mother gave a cry of pain. ‘Oh, Peggotty, help
me,’ she whispered.
Peggotty ran to my mother and held her hand.
‘I think the baby’s coming early,’ my poor mother went on.
‘Oh, Peggotty! The pain! It hurts so much!
‘Don’t worry, ma’am,’ Peggotty said. ‘My nephew’s in the
kitchen. I’ll send him for the doctor at once.’
When the doctor arrived, my mother was upstairs in
her bedroom with Peggotty. Miss Betsy Trotwood stayed
downstairs. She knew nothing about babies.
Soon my mother began to cry out in pain, over and over
again. Miss Betsy took off her bonnet and put cotton wool15 in
her ears. Sometimes she sat by the fire. Sometimes she walked
up and down the room, holding her bonnet by its strings.
At half past twelve, the doctor came downstairs. He was
smiling happily. He bowed16 to my aunt politely.
‘I have good news, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Mother and baby are
both well.’
‘What? What did you say?’ my aunt shouted, taking the
cotton-wool out of her ears.
‘It’s good news,’ the doctor repeated. ‘Mrs Copperfield is
resting and the baby is healthy. He –’
‘He? What do you mean?’ Miss Betsy cried. ‘The baby’s a
girl. She must be. Her name is Betsy Trotwood Copperfield!’
‘Ma’am, the baby is a boy,’ the doctor said quietly.

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 My Early Days

My aunt stood up, swung her bonnet by its strings and hit
the doctor hard on the head.
‘Boys cause nothing but trouble!’ she cried. Then she put
the bonnet on her own head, walked out of the house and
never came back.

My earliest memories are of two women – my dearest mother

and dear Clara Peggotty. They both loved me very much. I
remember that my young mother had a pale face and soft,
pretty hair. Peggotty’s eyes and hair were very dark. Her face
and arms were hard and red. I think that my mother and I were
both a little afraid of Peggotty. But she was a kind woman and
we loved her too.
The three of us lived together for seven happy years. During
that time, I learnt to read. I read all my dead father’s story
books again and again. And I was the hero of every story!
I remember the warm summers in our garden. There was an
empty dog-kennel17 at one end and sweetly-smelling flowers
grew everywhere. In the autumn, my mother and I picked fruit
in the garden. In winter, we stayed indoors. I remember my
mother dancing by herself in the candle-light. I remember the
light shining on her pretty hair.
Then, one day, a tall, black-haired man came to see my
mother. He stayed for about half-an-hour. He kissed my
mother’s hand before he left and put his hand on my head. I
did not like that and I moved away from him. Then he looked
down at me with his hard, dark eyes and I felt afraid.
As time went on, the black-haired gentleman came nearly
every day. His name was Mr Edward Murdstone and he was
always very polite. He praised my mother’s beauty and made
her blush18. I hated him for it and I think that Peggotty hated
him too.
One evening, when Peggotty and I were alone she spoke to
me gently. ‘Master Davy19,’ she said. ‘Would you like to visit

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 My Early Days

my brother’s house in Yarmouth? I’ll go with you and we could

stay for two weeks.’
‘Is your brother a nice man, Peggotty?’ I asked.
‘Oh, he’s such a nice man. The nicest I know!’ she exclaimed.
‘He lives near the sea. You’ve never seen the sea, Master Davy.
There’ll be boats and fishermen and my nephew, Ham, lives
there too.’
‘But what about mama?’ I asked. ‘She can’t live here by
herself, can she?’
‘Of course not,’ Peggotty said quickly. ‘Your dear mother
will be staying with some neighbours.’
That made me happy and my mother looked happy too.
Peggotty and I were going to travel to Yarmouth in the
carrier’s cart. As the carrier put our boxes on his cart, my
mother stood at the garden gate. She had come to say goodbye
to us. I was happy to be leaving, but I suddenly began to cry.
Then my mother cried too and I kissed her.
I got into the cart with Peggotty and looked back. Mr
Murdstone was standing beside my mother now. She ran after
the cart to kiss me one last time. Mr Murdstone frowned20 but
he could not stop her. My dear mother was laughing and crying
at the same time.
The carrier’s old horse began to pull the cart along the road.
I waved21 goodbye to my mother, as I looked back at my happy
home. I did not know then that I would never be happy there
again.

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