Charlie Bone and the Blue Boa

Runner Bean is rumbled

On his way to the dining hall Charlie had to pass the portraits. They hung on either side of the long, softly lit passage: haughty- looking women in lace and silk, men in dark robes or wearing velvet coats and white breeches. You might think that Charlie would be curious to know what they had to say but, to tell the truth, he was beginning to find their bad-tempered whispering, rude demands and boring jokes rather tiring. He was also afraid that one of them might come leaping out at him. So he usually tried to avoid looking at them.

Except for today. Something had jogged his memory.

‘Ah, there it is.’ He stopped before a portrait of a bold-looking woman in red velvet. She had dark ringlets, and a necklace of rose-coloured jewels sparkled at her throat. SELENA SPARKS said a small bronze plaque at the bottom of the frame.

‘Selena Sparks,’ Charlie murmured.

‘What about her?’ Fidelio said over Charlie’s shoulder.

‘Ssh!’ hissed Charlie. He waited for a voice, but Selena had nothing to say to him. Perhaps she was shy. ‘I knew I’d seen that name,’ Charlie muttered. ‘All these people are descended from the Red King. So maybe Ollie is too.’

‘Ollie who?’ asked Fidelio. ‘I wish you’d talk sense, Charlie.’

‘Emma and me . . .’ Charlie began.

He was interrupted by a shout from Manfred, the head boy. ‘Move on, you two, you’re cluttering up the passage.’

The boys hurried on, but Charlie, glancing back, saw Manfred stop and stare at Selena Sparks. Charlie hoped Manfred wouldn’t guess why he was so interested in the portrait.

As they took their places in the long underground dining hall, Charlie whispered, ‘Can you leave a gap, Fido? Someone might want to sit between us. Someone invisible who’s hungrier than we are.’

‘Really?’ Fidelio raised his eyebrows. ‘It didn’t take you long to get tangled up in something, did it?’ He moved closer to his neighbour, leaving a small space between Charlie and himself.

It happened to be one of the best meals Charlie had eaten at Bloor’s; morsels of chicken and bacon floated in a creamy sauce, and he was tempted to eat every scrap, but he pushed a few pieces to the side of his plate, in case Ollie turned up.

‘He can have all of mine,’ said Fidelio, who was a vegetarian.

‘I’ll have it,’ said his neighbour, a large boy called Morris who played the bassoon.

‘No, you won’t,’ said Fidelio. ‘It’s for Cook’s dog. He hasn’t been well.’

Morris gave him a funny look, then ran his thumb round his own almost-empty plate and licked it. This was against the rules.

Charlie wondered if Ollie had got lost. He scanned the three long tables, looking for signs of a disturbance. He couldn’t see Emma, who sat somewhere on the Art table. The Drama table was in the middle, and it was by far the noisiest, even though Manfred sat at the head. Apart from Asa and Zelda, who sat on either side of Manfred, everyone in Drama faced away from the head of the table. They perched rather crookedly on the benches, with the shoulder nearest to Manfred slightly raised. No one wanted to be caught by the head boy’s hypnotising stare when they were halfway through a meal.

Aside from these strange postures, Charlie couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary amongst the purple capes, so he turned his attention to the far end of the room, where the teachers sat at a table on a raised platform. From here they could keep an eye on the children below them.

‘Who are you looking for?’ Billy Raven goggled at Charlie through a fringe of thin white hair. He was sitting on the other side of the table, a few places away from Charlie. His spectacles made his red eyes look far too large for his head.

‘I’m not looking for anyone,’ said Charlie. ‘I thought I saw a bat.’

This wasn’t so unlikely. Hundreds of bats lived in the old building.

As Billy looked away, Charlie felt something push against his side. Fidelio gave him a surprised look, and then a piece of chicken disappeared from the side of his plate.

‘Thanks,’ came a disembodied whisper. ‘Delicious.’

Several more pieces disappeared, and no one seemed to notice, until Gwyneth Howells, sitting opposite Charlie, gulped, ‘Uh! Your meat just . . .’ and the fork that was halfway to her mouth dropped to the floor, laden with peas.

Gwyneth bobbed under the table to retrieve her fork and let out an ear-splitting scream. She came up for air, her round, brown eyes starting out of her head. ‘I saw . . . I saw . . .’ she cried. ‘There’s a . . . there’s a . . . under the table, there’s a . . .’

‘There’s a what?’ said her neighbour, Rosie Stubbs.

‘There’s a TOE!’ cried Gwyneth, and she fainted backwards over the bench, landing in an untidy heap on the floor.

Several girls, and even boys, screamed and a husky voice gasped ‘Yikes!’ in Charlie’s ear. His plate went flying and his tumbler rolled to the floor, water spilling all over the table.

‘I’d better get out of here,’ whispered the voice, while Rosie Stubbs shouted, ‘Gwyneth’s fainted.’

Dr Bloor stared out from his seat at the head of the high table. Matron Yewbeam and Miss Chrystal came down the steps into the main hall and ran up to Gwyneth. The matron shook Gwyneth’s shoulder, but as the poor girl was obviously unconscious, she lifted her up and, helped by Miss Chrystal, carried her out of the dining hall.

Mr Boldova had come to the edge of the platform and Charlie caught his eye. The art teacher gave a slight shrug and Charlie shook his head.

Ollie had fled and Charlie knew it would be hard to coax him back again. In fact this time he might even be locked in. From the end of the Drama table, Manfred was watching Charlie suspiciously. He had seen him looking at Selena Sparks, and he knew Ollie’s toe was still visible. Perhaps he had put two and two together.

After supper Charlie gave Fidelio a better explanation about what had happened to Ollie Sparks. He spoke in an undertone as they hurried up the long passage leading from the dining hall. This time he didn’t even glance at Selena, in case Manfred was watching.

‘Here we go again,’ said Fidelio. ‘Another problem for you, Charlie.’ They had reached the blue cloakroom, and here the two friends parted; Fidelio taking books and pens to his classroom, while Charlie had to carry his homework upstairs to the King’s Room.

How did he manage always to be late, even when he thought he’d been hurrying? All the other endowed children had got to the room before him. As Charlie bounded through the tall black doors, Manfred was making an announcement.

‘Two of the endowed have left the school.’ Manfred glared at Charlie as he dropped his books on to the round table. ‘Quiet, Bone!’

‘As I was saying, Beth and Bindi have left us, but we have a new member.’

It had been such an extraordinary day, Charlie had almost forgotten Belle. But here she was, sitting between Asa and Dorcas. Asa’s weaselly features were screwed into an odd smirk and his scraggy red hair stuck out in oily spikes. If it hadn’t been for his yellow eyes, you would have found it hard to believe he could turn into a beast.

‘Her name’s Belle,’ Manfred continued.

‘Belle what?’ said Tancred, his pale hair bristling with electricity.

‘It’s not important,’ Manfred waved his hand.

‘It is to me,’ Tancred persisted. ‘I like to know a person’s whole name.’

Charlie wished Tancred would look away before Manfred did something nasty. The head boy had an angry, hypnotising stare coming on.

Tancred’s friend, Lysander, gave him a warning nudge. ‘Leave it, Tanc.’

But Tancred was like a dog with a bone. ‘My name’s Torsson,’ he said, looking at Belle, ‘and what . . .?’

‘Donner,’ Belle said suddenly.

‘Belledonner? That’s deadly nightshade,’ said Gabriel. ‘It can kill you.’

‘Actually, that’s belladonna,’ said Belle. ‘In small quantities it dilates the pupils. Eyes become shinier, more lustrous and beautiful.’ All at once, her own round blue eyes flashed with purple lights.

The effect was so startling even Tancred was speechless. All round the table, books were opened and pens clutched. Homework began in silence.

Above the door the Red King stared out from his portrait. The cracked and ancient painting always raised Charlie’s spirits. But he’d never managed to hear the King’s voice. Sometimes he caught a low muttering, sometimes a creak and the swish of a cloak, but then a shadow would fall behind the king, like a dark stain on the canvas; a hooded figure that chilled the blood just to look at it. And Charlie knew that the sinister shadow was blocking his contact with the king.

Eleven of us now, thought Charlie. Last term there had been twelve endowed children. What would happen if there were ten, like the original ten children of the Red King? Would the pattern be repeated, five on one side, five on the other? And this time, who would win?

‘Get on with your homework, Bone!’ Manfred’s voice made Charlie jump.

‘Yes, Manfred.’ Charlie looked down at his open book. After homework, Emma caught up with Charlie as he made his way to the dormitories. ‘It was Ollie, wasn’t it?’ she said breathlessly. ‘The toe under the table?’

Charlie nodded. ‘I don’t think we’ll be able to get him back again,’ he whispered. ‘He was terrified. And I’ve got a nasty feeling Manfred knows.’

‘I’ll tell Mr Boldova,’ said Emma.

As they approached Emma’s dormitory, they saw two girls standing outside the door. Their heads were close together and their furtive giggling seemed to imply that they were sharing an unpleasant secret.

‘Belle and Dorcas,’ Emma observed. ‘It’s as if Belle has put Dorcas under a spell. They go everywhere together.’

‘Good luck, Em,’ Charlie muttered as Emma slipped into the dormitory.

‘Trying to ignore me, Charlie Bone?’ said Belle as Charlie walked past.

‘Not at all,’ Charlie called without looking back. ‘I can see that you’re busy.’

‘You ignore me at your peril, Charlie!’

Was it Belle who had spoken? Charlie couldn’t be sure. The voice belonged to someone much older. Someone whom it would be foolish to disobey.

Charlie hurried on.

Belle and Dorcas were seldom seen apart after that day. Charlie became convinced that Belle wasn’t what she pretended to be. And then there was Ollie Sparks. The summer term was proving to be more than a little interesting.

‘You’d better watch it, Charlie,’ said Fidelio one day. ‘If you go up in the attics again, you’re bound to get detention.’

‘Or worse,’ muttered Olivia.

‘Hypnotised for life,’ said Emma. ‘Like Manfred tried to do to me.’

They were sitting on a log pile in blazing sunshine. It promised to be a brilliant summer, which was just as well because the school play would be performed in the open air.

‘What’s Belle like as an artist?’ Charlie asked Emma. ‘I mean, can she draw?’

Emma shrugged. ‘Who knows? She makes things. We’ve been asked to design clothes for the play, and the set.’

The hunting horn sounded and the four children slid off the logs and headed towards the academy.

‘I wish we could do something about Ollie,’ said Emma as they reached the garden door. ‘Maybe if we got detention and stayed in school till Saturday . . . What about you, Charlie?’

Charlie was tempted but he had other responsibilities. ‘Runner Bean,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to get home to look after him.’

It had just been decided that they would all meet on Sunday to discuss Ollie’s problem, when Fidelio suddenly announced, ‘I can’t. I’ve got to play in a concert.’

Charlie was sorry to hear this. Fidelio was such a good person to have around in a crisis. He had excellent ideas, and he never gave up. But Fidelio was also a brilliant musician. Charlie was afraid he would be seeing less and less of his friend this term.

When Charlie got home on Friday evening, so many things went wrong he forgot all about Ollie. He had expected to see his great-uncle, but Paton hadn’t returned and there was not even a word from him.

‘I’m a bit concerned,’ said Maisie. ‘It’s not like Paton. And I’m afraid it gets worse, Charlie. I’ve got to leave here tomorrow.’

‘What!’ Charlie was really worried. His mother had to work on Saturday, and the thought of spending a day alone with Grandma Bone was unpleasant to say the least. ‘Where are you going? Can’t I come with you?’

‘No chance, Charlie.’

Maisie’s sister, Doris, had been taken ill. Maisie would have to go and look after her. There was no one else. But something would have to be done about Runner Bean. While Charlie was at school there’d be no one in the house to feed him and look after him.

‘You’d better take him for a run now,’ said Maisie. ‘I haven’t had time. You can’t keep him hidden much longer, Charlie; a lively dog like that is bound to be rumbled.’

As Charlie ran up to his room he could hear him whining and scratching the door.

‘Ssssh!’ Charlie leapt into the room and slammed the door behind him.

Runner Bean put his paws on Charlie’s shoulders and licked his face.

‘Thanks, but yuk!’ whispered Charlie.

There was a creak on the landing and a voice called, ‘Is that you, Charlie, slamming doors?’

‘It’s me, Grandma,’ Charlie shouted. ‘I’m changing out of my school stuff.’

When Charlie put his head out of the door, Grandma Bone had gone back to her room.

‘Come on, Runner,’ Charlie said softly.

He ran downstairs with the dog bounding behind him. They left by the back door and slipped into the narrow street that led to the park. An hour later, Charlie and the dog arrived back at number nine, exhausted and hungry.

His mother was getting anxious and Charlie explained that he didn’t know the time because he’d sort of lost his watch. Mrs Bone sighed, ‘Honestly, Charlie. I suppose you’d better wear mine until you find yours.’ She handed him her watch, which was fortunately not too feminine. ‘I’m just going to help Maisie with her packing,’ she said. ‘Back in a tick.’

Charlie searched for the tins of dogfood Maisie had hidden. He’d just spotted a tin of Bonio in the larder, when there was a loud scream and then a growl.

Charlie looked round to see Grandma Bone rooted to the spot, just inside the door. ‘WHAT’S THAT DOING IN HERE?’ she screeched, pointing at Runner Bean.

‘It’s Benjamin’s dog,’ Charlie said nervously. ‘You know, Runner Bean.’

‘Of course I know, but why isn’t it in Hong Kong?’

Before Charlie had time to answer, Runner Bean, snarling horribly, rushed at Grandma Bone, who shrieked again.

‘Get it out!’ she shouted.

‘Er . . .’ Charlie played for time.

Runner Bean bared his teeth and snapped at the old lady’s ankles.

‘That’s it!’ yelled Grandma Bone. She backed out of the kitchen, shouting, ‘I’m ringing pest control – the dogs’ home – the police. They’ll have to put that dog down. It’s dangerous.’

‘Grandma, you can’t,’ Charlie pleaded.

But Grandma Bone was already on the phone, giving her address, telling someone about the killer that needed exterminating. ‘They’ll be round at half past six, and I’m not coming downstairs until that wretched Bean has gone.’

Charlie was horrified. He didn’t know what to do. Maisie and Mrs Bone came running down to see what all the fuss was about. But they didn’t know what to do either. Maisie was so worried about her sister, she said she couldn’t think straight.

‘If only Uncle Paton was here,’ Charlie wailed. ‘He’d know what to do.’

Charlie felt like taking Runner Bean and rushing over to Fidelio’s or Emma’s, or even Olivia’s place. But could they hide the big dog, or would they want to, with Runner Bean looking so wild? He hated being shouted at; his eyes were rolling and low rumbles kept coming from his throat.

‘We’ll explain to whoever comes, that he must on no account be put down,’ said Mrs Bone. ‘We’ll tell them that he’s never bitten anyone, ever.’

‘Perhaps he’ll go to a nice dogs’ home where you can visit him,’ Maisie said hopefully.

‘He’d hate it,’ cried Charlie. He took a large dish of goose liver pâté and ten slices of honey-roast ham out of the fridge, and poured them into the dog bowl that Maisie had hidden under the sink.

‘Grandma Bone’s specials,’ said Maisie in hushed tones.

‘I don’t care,’ said Charlie. He knelt beside Runner Bean and stroked the dog’s wiry head.

It was very satisfying to see his grandmother’s favourite food being wolfed down a shaggy throat.

The time was twenty-five minutes past six.

Charlie stood up. ‘I’ve made a decision. I’m going to ask Fidelio to hide Runner until Benjamin comes back.’

‘With all those noisy musicians?’ said Maisie. ‘He wouldn’t last a minute.’

And then someone rang the doorbell.

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