Читать книгу Midnight for Charlie Bone - Jenny Nimmo - Страница 11

The inventor’s case

Before Charlie could think of anything to say, the bookseller gave him a brief wave and then closed her door. He was alone in the shadowy street with something that had been exchanged for a baby.

Why hadn’t Miss Ingledew opened the case? What could be inside? Charlie began to talk to himself as he struggled over the cobbles and several people glanced at him suspiciously. Perhaps they thought he had stolen the bag. He turned a sharp corner and nearly fell over a big, shaggy dog.

‘Look out!’ cried Charlie, dropping the bag. ‘Runner Bean, it’s you!’

Runner Bean jumped on the bag and licked Charlie’s face.

‘Get off!’ said Charlie. ‘That’s valuable.’

Benjamin came hurrying up to them. ‘Sorry,’ he panted. ‘I couldn’t stop him.’

‘Were you following me?’ asked Charlie, who was quite pleased to see Benjamin.

‘Not really. I was just taking Runner for a walk. I think he must have got your scent.’ Benjamin stared at the impressive black bag. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Your birthday present,’ said Charlie, ‘but you’ll have to help me carry the bag. It weights a ton.’

‘Wow. What? No I mustn’t ask,’ said Benjamin shyly.

Charlie had to confess that there was a mysterious something else in the bag, but after a quick peek, Benjamin said he didn’t mind at all that he was going to get the small cardboard box, instead of the large metal case.

‘It’s a funny place to come for a present,’ Benjamin remarked, with a backward glance at the looming cathedral.

‘I didn’t know I would find one,’ said Charlie. ‘I came here to look for Runner Bean’s photo.’ He told Benjamin about the strange lady bookseller, and the mysterious case the lazy inventor had sent her.

Taking a handle each, the boys began to carry the black bag home. They didn’t notice that they were being followed. If they had looked behind them, they might have seen that a weasly red-haired boy, badly disguised as an old man, was hiding in doorways and then creeping up on them.

Runner Bean growled softly and nudged the bag, trying to hurry the boys. It was very troubling to the dog. There was something behind him, and something in the bag, that wasn’t right.

As Charlie and Benjamin turned into Filbert Street, Runner Bean whirled round and ran towards the stalker, barking furiously. The red-haired boy jumped away from him and fled up the street.

‘What was that all about?’ said Benjamin as the dog came bounding back.

Runner Bean couldn’t explain.

When they reached Benjamin’s house, Charlie asked his friend if he would take the bag inside with him. He didn’t want Maisie or Grandma Bone poking their noses into it.

Benjamin looked dubious. ‘I don’t know. Where will I put it?’

‘Under the bed or something. Please, Benjamin. My grandmas are always in my room, but no one seems to hassle you.’

‘OK,’ he said.

‘Don’t open your present until I come back,’ he told Benjamin. ‘I’d better go home now, or there’ll be trouble.’

Charlie was about to turn away when he heard a hollow knocking from inside the bag. Benjamin looked up, rather scared, but Charlie pretended he hadn’t heard and ran down the steps. He walked into the kitchen where his two grandmothers were arguing fiercely. When Charlie appeared they glared at him.

‘Charlie Bone!’ screamed Maisie. ‘How could you? You awful boy. How did this happen?’ She pointed at the row of dead mice. Charlie had completely forgotten them.

He explained how Mr Onimous and the cats had leapt into the house before he could stop them. ‘And then I had to rush out and exchange the photo,’ he waved the orange envelope. ‘I’m sorry I forgot about the mice.’

‘Yellow cats, red cats?’ said Grandma Bone, with a catch in her voice. Charlie could have sworn that she was afraid.

‘Well, I suppose they did a good job,’ said Maisie, beginning to forgive Charlie. ‘I’d better tidy the little bodies.’

Grandma Bone was not in a forgiving mood. ‘I knew it,’ she muttered angrily. ‘You brought them here, you wretched boy. You’re like a magnet. Bad blood mixed with endowed. It never works. I shan’t rest easy until you’re shut up in Bloor’s.’

‘Shut up? You mean I won’t be coming out?’

‘Weekends,’ snapped Grandma Bone. ‘Unfortunately.’ Out she swept, her black boots rapping on the floor like drumsticks.

‘I didn’t know that I would be shut up,’ cried Charlie.

‘Nor did I, love,’ puffed Maisie, busily disinfecting the floor. ‘What do I know of these fancy schools? Your mother shouldn’t bring home so much fruit and veg. Beats me how the Pest Control knew about it. I never told them.’

‘The cats,’ said Charlie. ‘They knew.’

‘You’ll be telling me next that cats can fly,’ muttered Maisie.

Perhaps those cats can, thought Charlie. Aries, Leo and Sagittarius were not ordinary cats, that was for sure. And Charlie had a suspicion that Grandma Bone knew this. But why was she afraid of them?

He went to his room to make the birthday card. But he found it hard to concentrate. The card went crooked, he left the ‘h’ out of birthday, and then the speech-balloon slipped over Runner Bean’s ear. Charlie flung down the scissors. Ever since he’d discovered he could hear photographs, his world had been turned upside down. If only he’d been able to keep quiet about the voices, he wouldn’t have had to go to a horrible school where he’d be imprisoned for weeks at a time, with a lot of weird children who did peculiar things.

He heard his mother come in and call to Maisie. If only she would take his side and fight the Yewbeams. But she seemed to be afraid of them. Somehow, Charlie would have to fight them himself.

Maisie had cooked vegetable spaghetti for lunch. Charlie wondered about the mice in the larder, but kept his thoughts to himself. His mother had brought him a sapphire blue cape, which she made him try on as soon as the spaghetti was finished. The cape reached almost to Charlie’s knees. It had slits at the sides for his arms and a soft hood hung down the back.

‘I’m not going to wear a cape in the street,’ said Charlie, ‘and that’s final. Everyone’ll laugh at me.’

‘But Charlie, there’ll be other children wearing them,’ said his mother. ‘And some will be in purple or green.’

‘Not in our part of town,’ said Charlie, pulling off the cape. ‘They’ll all be from the Heights.’

The Heights sprawled up the side of a wooded hill that looked down on the city. The houses were tall and grand and the people in them lacked for nothing. The large gardens were full of flowers that seemed to bloom all year.

‘I know for a fact that not every child will come from the Heights,’ said Charlie’s mother. ‘There’s a girl just two streets away, Olivia Vertigo, she was in the papers. She’ll be in Drama, so you’ll see her in a purple cape.’

‘Huh!’ muttered Charlie. ‘If you mean Dragon Street, that’s just as smart as the Heights.’ He decided he’d tuck the cape under his anorak until he reached the academy.

Even Maisie was beginning to give in. ‘It’s really cute,’ she said of the blue cape. ‘Such a nice colour.’

Charlie grudgingly took the cape up to his room and stuffed it in a drawer. (Later his mother would come up and carefully hang it in the wardrobe). Then he put Benjamin’s birthday card in the orange envelope and ran downstairs. ‘I’m going to Benjamin’s birthday now,’ he called to his mother.

Runner Bean greeted him with a loud barking. He wouldn’t even let Charlie through the front door.

‘What’s the matter with Runner?’ he shouted as Benjamin came bounding down the stairs.

‘It’s that case you left,’ said Benjamin. ‘He hates it. I pushed it under the bed like you said, but Runner growled and snarled and tried to pull it out again. He’s chewed up the bag and scratched the lid with his claws.’

Charlie managed to squeeze past the door while Benjamin hauled Runner Bean away. At length the dog gave a great howl, ran down the passage and banged through his dog-flap into the back garden.

Now that Charlie had arrived, Benjamin wanted to open his present. He ran upstairs to get it.

There was absolutely no sign that a party was about to take place. Benjamin’s parents worked every day of the week and Saturdays as well. Charlie wished he’d asked Maisie to make a cake for his friend, but he’d had too much on his mind.

‘It looks really exciting,’ said Benjamin, shaking the box. ‘Come on, let’s go into the living-room.’

No sign here of a party either.

Benjamin sat on the floor and opened the box. ‘Wow! A dog!’ he said.

Charlie pulled the dog’s tail and Dr Tolly’s voice rapped out the instructions.

Benjamin was so excited he could hardly speak. At last he managed to say, ‘Thanks, Charlie. Thanks. Wow, thanks!’

‘I should have got you a new tape,’ said Charlie, ‘then you’d have . . .’

He was interrupted by Runner Bean, who tore into the room barking madly. He paced round the metal dog, glaring at it, and then he began to whine.

‘He’s jealous,’ said Benjamin. ‘That’s all.’ He flung his arms around Runner Bean, saying, ‘I love you, Runner. You know I do. I couldn’t live without you.’

The big dog licked Benjamin’s face. He was everything to Benjamin: mother, father, brother and grandparent. He was always there when Benjamin’s parents were out. And the boy could go anywhere, at any time of day or night. As long as Runner Bean was with him, he was safe.

Charlie gave Benjamin the birthday card. ‘I made it after all,’ he said.

Benjamin didn’t notice any of Charlie’s mistakes. Gazing at the picture, he told Charlie it was the best card he’d ever had in his life. And then Runner Bean looked up at the ceiling and howled.

Tap! Tap! Tap! The sound was faint but definite. Benjamin’s room was right above them.

‘It’s that metal case,’ said Benjamin. ‘I wish you’d take it away. There could be a bomb in it, or something.’

‘Miss Ingledew didn’t look like a terrorist,’ said Charlie. ‘Nor did Dr Tolly.’

‘How d’you know?’ said Benjamin. ‘Terrorists are good at disguises. Let’s go and have a look.’

Runner Bean followed the boys upstairs, growling softly. This time he wouldn’t even come into the bedroom.

Charlie pulled the bag from under the bed and, together, the boys drew out the metal case. The tapping had stopped. Charlie undid the clasps on either side of the handle, but the case wouldn’t open. It was locked, and the key was missing.

‘Didn’t that woman tell you what was inside?’ said Benjamin.

Charlie shook his head. ‘She said she didn’t want to know. Whatever it is, it was swapped for a baby. Her very own niece.’

‘A baby?’ Benjamin’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s terrible.’

Charlie was beginning to feel guilty. ‘We’ll put it in the cupboard under the stairs,’ he said. ‘You won’t hear it there. And then I’ll go back to Miss Ingledew and ask her for the key.’

They dragged the bag downstairs and hid it behind a pile of old clothes Benjamin’s mother had dumped in the cupboard. When they’d closed the door, Runner Bean stood beside the stairs howling mournfully. Benjamin could only stop him by saying ‘Walkies!’ very loudly.

It was getting dark but there was still no sign of Benjamin’s parents. Benjamin seemed more resigned than upset. ‘I’ll make my own cake,’ he said. And he did. It was a chocolate sponge and he stuck ten candles in the top, and then he and Charlie sang ‘Happy Birthday’. The cake was a bit crumbly but very good.

It was half past seven when Charlie looked at his watch. He knew he should be going home, but he didn’t want to leave Benjamin alone, not on his birthday. So he stayed another hour, and they played hide and seek with Runner Bean, who was brilliant at it.

At half past eight, Benjamin’s parents still hadn’t come home, so Charlie decided to take his friend back for one of Maisie’s hot meals. There was only one egg and a pint of milk left in Benjamin’s fridge.

‘How was the party?’ asked Maisie, when two boys and a dog walked in.

‘Great,’ said Charlie, ‘but we’re still a bit hungry.’

‘There was a peculiar boy round here a couple of hours ago,’ said Maisie. ‘He was pretending to be an old man but anyone could see he was a boy. He said you’d got some case of his mixed up in the wrong bag and he wanted it back. Well, I looked in your room but all I could find was a bag of shoes. The boy was very put out. He wouldn’t believe me. A nasty piece of work, he was. Now you two run off, while I get some food on the table.’

Outside the kitchen door, Charlie whispered, ‘Don’t tell anyone about the bag, and specially not the case.’

‘Why not?’ asked Benjamin.

‘Because it was given to me and I feel sort of responsible,’ said Charlie. I think we should keep it safe until we know more about it.’ He decided not to tell Benjamin about Mr Onimous and his cats, just yet.

At that moment Grandma Bone appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘What’s that dog doing here?’ she said, glaring at Runner Bean.

‘It’s Benjamin’s birthday,’ said Charlie.

‘So?’ she said coldly.

Runner Bean barked up at her and before she could say anything more, Charlie dragged Benjamin back into the kitchen.

‘Grandma Bone’s in a mood,’ Charlie told Maisie.

‘Isn’t she always?’ said Maisie. ‘She’ll calm down once you’re at Bloor’s.’

Charlie hadn’t wanted to break this news to Benjamin on his birthday, but now it was out and Charlie felt like a traitor.

Benjamin stared at him accusingly. ‘What’s Bloor’s?’ he asked.

‘It’s a big school near the Heights,’ Charlie explained. ‘I don’t want to go there, Ben.’

‘Then don’t.’

‘He has to, dear. His mum’s bought the uniform,’ said Maisie. She put two plates of baked beans and sausages on the kitchen table. ‘Now come and eat. It may be your birthday but you look half-starved, Benjamin Brown.’

Benjamin sat down, but he had lost his appetite. He slipped a sausage to Runner Bean when Maisie wasn’t looking.

‘I won’t be going until after half-term,’ Charlie told his friend.

‘Oh.’ Benjamin stared at his plate, unsmiling.

Unfortunately, Charlie’s mother chose that moment to walk in with Charlie’s pyjamas. ‘No more patched pyjamas for you, Charlie,’ she said. ‘The Yewbeams are providing a whole new set of clothes for the academy.’

‘Pyjamas?’ Benjamin looked up. ‘Are you going to sleep there?’

‘I’ll be back at weekends,’ said Charlie.

‘Oh.’ Benjamin shovelled a few beans into his mouth and then stood up. ‘I’d better go home now. Mum and Dad’ll be back.’

‘Shall I come . . .?’ Charlie began.

‘No. It’s OK. I’ve got Runner.’

Before Charlie could say another word, Benjamin and Runner Bean walked out. The dog’s tail and ears drooped dejectedly, always a sign that his master was in low spirits.

‘Funny boy,’ Maisie remarked.

‘I think I ought to see if he’s OK,’ said Charlie. ‘After all, it is his birthday.’

But when he opened the front door, he was just in time to see Uncle Paton walking away from the house. And this gave Charlie an idea.

‘Uncle Paton, can I come with you?’ called Charlie, racing after his uncle.

‘Why?’ Paton had stopped to put a large bundle of letters into a post-box.

‘Because . . . because . . .’ Charlie caught up with his uncle, ‘Well, I wanted to ask you to come somewhere with me.’

‘And where is that?’

‘To a bookshop. It’s near the cathedral, and I don’t want to go there on my own – it’s a bit spooky.’

‘A bookshop?’ Paton was interested, as Charlie hoped he would be. ‘But, Charlie, even a bookshop will be closed at this time of night.’

‘Yes, but I think there will be someone in this shop, even if it’s closed,’ said Charlie and he found himself telling his uncle about Miss Ingledew and the locked case. After all, he had to trust someone, and instinct told him that Paton was on his side, even if he was a Yewbeam.

A mysterious gleam had entered Paton’s dark eyes. ‘So you want this lady bookseller to give you a key? Tell me, Charlie, where is the case?’

Charlie hesitated. ‘I don’t want anyone to know,’ he said. ‘Someone’s already come looking for it. But if you really . . .’

Paton held up his hand. ‘You’re wise to keep it a secret, Charlie. Only tell me when you feel the time is right. Now, let’s get on and find this bookshop.’

They travelled through narrow side streets, where Paton’s talent for boosting the lights wasn’t so conspicuous. As they entered the deserted streets near the cathedral, lamps flickered rhythmically, now bright, now dim, as if they were part of a magical display.

A CLOSED sign hung behind a glass panel in Ingledew’s door, but there was a low light in the window, illuminating the antique leather-bound books. Paton gazed at them, hungrily. ‘I ought to get out more,’ he murmured.

Charlie pressed the bell.

A distant voice said, ‘We’re closed. Go away.’

‘It’s me, Charlie Bone,’ said Charlie. ‘Could I see you for a moment, Miss Ingledew?’

‘Charlie?’ Miss Ingledew sounded surprised, but not too cross. ‘It’s rather late.’

‘It’s urgent, Miss Ingledew – about the case.’

‘Oh?’ Her face appeared at the small glass panel in the door. ‘Wait a minute, Charlie.’

The light in the shop went on. A chain clanked, bolts slid back and the door opened with a familiar tinkle.

Charlie stepped down into the shop, followed closely by his uncle.

‘Oh!’ gasped Miss Ingledew, retreating. ‘Who is this?’

‘My uncle, Paton,’ said Charlie and, looking at his uncle, realised why Miss Ingledew seemed a little put out. Paton was very tall and very dark, and in his long black coat he did look rather sinister.

‘I do hope I haven’t alarmed you,’ said Paton, extending his hand. ‘Paton Yewbeam at your service.’

Miss Ingledew took the hand, saying nervously, ‘Julia Ingledew.’

‘Julia,’ repeated Paton. ‘Lovely. My nephew asked me to accompany him.’

Charlie couldn’t decide whether his uncle sounded pompous or shy. Perhaps a bit of both. ‘I’ve come about the key, Miss Ingledew,’ he said. ‘The key to that case you gave me.’

‘Key? Key?’ She seemed confused. ‘Oh, I think they came with the, er . . . I’ll have a look. You’d better come through to my, er . . . Or people will think we’re open again.’ She gave a flustered laugh and disappeared through the curtains behind the counter.

Charlie and his uncle followed. The little room behind the bookshop glowed with mellow colours, and Paton’s eyes roamed excitedly over the rows of books. Miss Ingledew had obviously been reading when they arrived, for a large book lay open on her desk.

‘The Incas,’ observed Paton, reading the chapter heading. ‘A fascinating subject.’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Ingledew, still agitated. She had found a small tin of keys which she proceeded to empty on to the desk. Most of the keys had labels attached to them, but some did not. ‘How am I to tell?’ she said. ‘There are so many. Charlie, I think you’d better take all the keys that aren’t marked and see which one fits. I’m afraid that’s all I can suggest.’

‘All that could be expected,’ said Paton.

Miss Ingledew frowned at him, put a pile of keys in a plastic bag and handed them to Charlie. ‘There. Bring them back when you’ve tried them,’ she said.

‘Thanks, Miss Ingledew.’ Charlie took the keys and, as there seemed to be nothing left to say, or do, he led the way back through the curtains.

Miss Ingledew came after them, to bolt and lock the door, but as Charlie and his uncle stepped into the street, Paton suddenly asked, ‘May I call again, Miss Ingledew?’

‘Of course,’ said Miss Ingledew, taken aback. ‘It’s a shop. I can hardly stop you.’

‘No.’ Paton smiled. ‘But, after dark?’

Miss Ingledew looked rather alarmed. ‘On Fridays, I’m open until eight,’ she said, and closed the door.

For a moment Paton stared at the door as if he were transfixed, and then he turned, suddenly, exclaiming, ‘What a very charming woman.’ And his huge, soundless humming caused the nearest lamp to burn so fiercely, a fine shower of glass fell out. It landed on the cobbled street with a soft, musical tinkle.