First published in Great Britain 2004 by Egmont UK Limited

This edition published 2010

by Egmont UK Limited

239 Kensington High Street

London W8 6SA

Text copyright © 2004 Jenny Nimmo

The moral rights of the author have been asserted

ISBN 978 1 4052 2545 8

eBook ISBN 978 1 7803 1204 0

www.egmont.co.uk

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

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For Gwenhwyfar, who found the boa, with love.

Books by Jenny Nimmo

Midnight for Charlie Bone

Charlie Bone and the Time Twister

Charlie Bone and the Blue Boa

Charlie Bone and the Castle of Mirrors

Charlie Bone and the Hidden King

Charlie Bone and the Wilderness Wolf

Charlie Bone and the Shadow of Badlock

Charlie Bone and the Red Knight

The Snow Spider trilogy

The Secret Kingdom

Secret Creatures

For younger readers

Matty Mouse

Farm Fun!

Delilah

Contents

Cover

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

Books by Jenny Nimmo

The endowed children

Prologue

1. Someone dangerous

2. The invisible boy

3. Runner Bean is rumbled

4. Sparkling stones

5. The shape-shifter

6. The starling

7. Uncle Paton’s return

8. A visit to Skarpo

9. A very old mouse

10. The wand

11. Bull, bells and golden bats

12. A sorcerer on the loose

13. The flames and a journey

14. The garden in Darkly Wynd

15. Lysander’s plan

16. The night of wind and spirits

17. Ollie and the boa

18. A belt of black jewels

The children of the Red King, called the endowed

Manfred Bloor | Head boy of Bloor’s Academy. A hypnotiser. He is descended from Borlath, eldest son of the Red King. Borlath was a brutal and sadistic tyrant.
Asa Pike | A were-beast. He is descended from a tribe who lived in the Northern forests and kept strange beasts. Asa can change shape at dusk.
Billy Raven | Billy can communicate with animals. One of his ancestors conversed with ravens that sat on a gibbet where dead men hung. For this talent he was banished from his village.
Zelda Dobinski | Descended from a long line of Polish magicians. Zelda is telekenetic. She can move objects with her mind.
Lysander Sage | Descended from an African wise man. He can call up his spirit ancestors.
Tancred Torsson | A storm-bringer. His Scandinavian ancestor was named after the thunder god, Thor. Tancred can bring rain, wind, thunder and lightning.
Gabriel Silk | Gabriel can feel scenes and emotions through the clothes of others. He comes from a line of psychics.
Emma Tolly | Emma can fly. Her surname derives from the Spanish swordsman from Toledo, whose daughter married the Red King. He is therefore an ancestor to all the endowed children.
Charlie Bone | Charlie can travel into photographs and paintings. He is descended from the Yewbeams, a family with many magical endowments.
Dorcas Loom | An endowed girl whose gift is, as yet, undiscovered.

The endowed are all descended from the ten children of the Red King; a magician-king who left Africa in the twelfth century, accompanied by three leopards.

Prologue

When the Red King left Africa, he took with him a rare snake, a boa, given to him by a travelling wise man. The boa’s skin was black and silver and its eyes like beads of jet. Sometimes, the shining eyes would close, but this was a deception. In the king’s presence the boa was eternally vigilant. No thief or assassin dared to pass it. The king, who could speak its language, regarded the boa as a friend, a guardian and a wise counsellor. He loved the creature dearly.

One day, while the king was absent on a hunting trip, his eldest son, Borlath, caught the boa in a net. Borlath had the cruellest heart of any man living, and his greatest sport was to torture. Within a week he had turned the wise and gentle boa into a creature that lived only to kill. It would squeeze its victims into oblivion within minutes.

The king’s daughter, Guanhamara, horrified by the boa’s new and deadly nature, rescued the creature and cast a spell, hoping to cure it. Alas, Guanhamara’s spell came too late and merely weakened the boa’s fatal hug. Its victims did not die, but they became invisible.

When Guanhamara died, the boa fell into a deep sleep. It shrivelled into a thing that was neither alive nor dead. Hoping one day to reawaken the creature, Guanhamara’s seven daughters (every one of them a witch) sealed the boa in a jar of liquid made blue with herbs. They also put in a bird with delicate, shiny wings. But the embalmed creatures were stolen by Borlath and passed down through his descendants, until Ezekiel Bloor, using a method recommended by his grandfather, managed to revive the boa whose skin had become a silvery blue. He was less successful with the bird.

Ezekiel was now a hundred years old. He had always longed to become invisible but, as far as he knew, the boa’s hug was permanent, and he didn’t dare to let the creature hug him. The old man still searched for a way to reverse invisibility, while the boa lived in the shadowy attics of Bloor’s Academy, keeping its secret, until someone could bring it the comfort of understanding – and listen to its story.

Someone dangerous

An owl swooped over the roof of number nine Filbert Street. It hovered above a running mouse and then perched on a branch beside Charlie Bone’s window. The owl hooted, but Charlie slept on.

Across the road, at number twelve, Benjamin Brown was already awake. He opened his curtains to look at the owl and saw three figures emerge from the door of number nine. In the pale street light their faces were a blur of shadows, but Benjamin would have known them anywhere. They were Charlie Bone’s great-aunts, Lucretia, Eustacia and Venetia Yewbeam. As the three women tiptoed furtively down the steps, one of them suddenly looked up at Benjamin. He shrank behind the curtain and watched them hurry away up the road. They wore black hooded coats and their heads tilted towards each other like conspirators.

It was half past four in the morning. Why were the Yewbeam sisters out so early? Had they been in Charlie’s house all night? They’ve been hatching some nasty plot, thought Benjamin.

If only Charlie hadn’t inherited such a strange talent. And if only his great-aunts hadn’t got to know about it, perhaps he’d have been safe. But when your ancestor is a magician and a king, your relations are bound to expect something of you. ‘Poor Charlie,’ Benjamin murmured.

Benjamin’s big yellow dog, Runner Bean, whined sympathetically from the bed. Benjamin wondered if he’d guessed what was going to happen to him. Probably. Mr and Mrs Brown had spent the last two days cleaning the house and packing. Dogs always know something is up when people start packing.

‘Breakfast, Benjamin!’ Mrs Brown called from the kitchen.

Mr Brown could be heard singing in the shower.

Benjamin and Runner Bean went downstairs. Three bowls of porridge sat on the kitchen table. Benjamin tucked in. His mother was frying sausages and tomatoes and he was glad to see that she hadn’t forgotten his dog. Runner Bean’s bowl was already full of chopped sausage.

Mr Brown arrived still singing and still in his dressing- gown. Mrs Brown was already dressed. She wore a neat grey suit and her straight straw-coloured hair was cut very short. She wore no jewellery.

Benjamin’s parents were private detectives and they tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Sometimes, they wore a false moustache or a wig to disguise themselves. It was usually only Mr Brown who wore the false moustaches, but on one occasion (an occasion Benjamin would like to forget), Mrs Brown had also found it necessary to wear one.

Benjamin’s mother swapped his now empty bowl for a full plate and said, ‘You’d better take Runner across to Charlie as soon as you’ve cleaned your teeth. We’ll be off in half an hour.’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Benjamin scoffed down the rest of his breakfast and ran back upstairs. He didn’t tell his mother that Charlie hadn’t actually agreed to look after Runner Bean.

The Browns’ bathroom overlooked Filbert Street and while Benjamin was brushing his teeth, he saw a tall man in a long black coat walk down the steps of number nine. Benjamin stopped brushing and stared. What on earth was going on in Charlie’s house?

The tall man was Paton Yewbeam, Charlie’s great-uncle. He was wearing dark glasses and carried a white stick. Benjamin assumed the dark glasses had something to do with Paton’s unfortunate talent for exploding lights. Paton never appeared in daylight, if he could help it, but this was an extraordinary time to be going out, even for him. He walked up to a midnight blue car, opened the boot and carefully placed the wand (for that’s what it was) right at the back.

Before Benjamin had even rinsed his toothbrush, Charlie’s uncle had driven off. He went in the opposite direction to his sisters, Benjamin noted. This wasn’t surprising as Paton and his sisters were sworn enemies.

‘You’d better go over to Charlie’s,’ Mrs Brown called from the kitchen. Benjamin packed his pyjamas and toothbrush and went downstairs.

Runner Bean’s tail hung dejectedly. His ears were down and his eyes rolled piteously. Benjamin felt guilty. ‘Come on, Runner.’ He spoke with an exaggerated cheerfulness that didn’t fool his dog for one minute.

The boy and the dog left the house together. They were best friends and Runner Bean wouldn’t have dreamt of disobeying Benjamin, but today he dragged his paws very reluctantly up the steps of number nine.

Benjamin rang the bell and Runner Bean howled. It was the howl that woke Charlie. Everyone else in the house woke briefly, thought they’d had a nightmare and went back to sleep.

Charlie, recognising the howl, staggered downstairs to open the door. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, blinking at the street lights. ‘It’s still night, isn’t it?’

‘Sort of,’ said Benjamin. ‘I’ve got some amazing news. I’m going to Hong Kong.’

Charlie rubbed his eyes. ‘What, now?’

‘Yes.’

Charlie stared at his friend in bewilderment and then invited him in for a piece of toast. While the toast was browning, Charlie asked Benjamin if Runner Bean would be travelling to Hong Kong with him.

‘Er – no,’ said Benjamin. ‘He’d have to be quarantined and he’d hate that.’

‘So where’s he going?’ Charlie glanced at Runner Bean and the big dog gave him a forlorn sort of smile.

‘That’s just it,’ Benjamin said, with a slight cough. ‘There’s no one else but you, Charlie.’

‘Me? I can’t keep a dog here,’ said Charlie. ‘Grandma Bone would kill it.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Benjamin looked anxiously at Runner Bean, who was crawling under the table. ‘Now look what you’ve done. He was upset already.’

As Charlie began to splutter his protests, Benjamin quickly explained that the Hong Kong visit had been a complete surprise. A Chinese billionaire had asked his parents to trace a priceless necklace that had been stolen from his Hong Kong apartment. The Browns couldn’t resist such a well-paid and challenging case but as it might take several months, they did not want to leave Benjamin behind. Unfortunately this didn’t apply to Runner Bean.

Charlie slumped at the kitchen table and scratched his head. His bushy hair was even more tangled than usual. ‘Oh,’ was all he could say.

‘Thanks, Charlie.’ Benjamin shoved a large piece of toast into his mouth. ‘I’ll let myself out.’ At the kitchen door he looked back guiltily. ‘I’m sorry. I hope you’ll be all right, Charlie.’ And then he was gone.

Benjamin was so excited he had forgotten to tell Charlie about his uncle and the wand, or the visit of his three aunts.

From the kitchen window Charlie watched his friend dash across the street and jump into the Browns’ large green car. Charlie lifted his hand to wave, but the car drove off before Benjamin had seen him.

‘Now what?’ mumbled Charlie.

As if in answer, Runner Bean growled from beneath the table. Benjamin hadn’t thought to leave any dog food for him, and Mr and Mrs Brown were obviously far too busy to think of such mundane items.

‘Detectives!’ he muttered.

For five minutes Charlie struggled to think how he was going to keep Runner Bean a secret from Grandma Bone. But thinking was exhausting so early in the day. Charlie laid his head on the table and fell asleep.

As luck would have it, Grandma Bone was the first person downstairs that morning. ‘What’s this?’ Her shrill voice woke Charlie with a start. ‘Sleeping in the kitchen? You’re lucky it’s Saturday. You’d have missed the school bus.’

‘Um.’ Charlie blinked up at the tall, stringy woman in her grey dressing-gown. A snowy pigtail hung down her back and it swung from side to side as she began to march about the kitchen, banging on the kettle, slamming the fridge door and plonking hard butter on the counter. Suddenly she swivelled round and stared at Charlie. ‘I smell dog,’ she said accusingly.

Charlie remembered Runner Bean. ‘D-dog?’ he stammered. Luckily, the heavy tablecloth hung almost to the ground and his grandmother couldn’t see Runner Bean.

‘Has that friend of yours been here? He always smells of dog.’

‘Benjamin? Er – yes,’ said Charlie. ‘He came to say goodbye. He’s going to Hong Kong.’

‘Good riddance,’ she grunted.

When Grandma Bone went into the larder, Charlie grabbed Runner Bean’s collar and dragged him upstairs.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,’ sighed Charlie. ‘I’ve got to go to school on Monday, and I won’t be back till Friday. I have to sleep there, you know.’

Runner Bean jumped on to Charlie’s bed wagging his tail. He’d spent many happy hours in Charlie’s bedroom.

Charlie decided to ask his Uncle Paton for help. Slipping out of his room he crept along the landing until he came to his uncle’s door. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung just above Charlie’s eye level. He knocked.

There was no reply.

Charlie cautiously opened the door and looked in. Paton wasn’t there. It was unlike him to leave the house in the morning. Charlie went over to a big desk covered with books and scraps of paper. On the tallest pile of books there was an envelope with Charlie’s name on it.

Charlie withdrew a sheet of paper from the envelope and read his uncle’s large scrawly handwriting.

Charlie, dear boy,

My sisters are up to no good. Heard them plotting in the small hours. Have decided to go and put a stop to things. If I don’t, someone very dangerous will arrive. No time to explain. Will be back in a few days – I hope!

Yours affectionately, Uncle P. P. S. Have taken wand.

‘Oh no,’ Charlie groaned. ‘When are things going to stop going wrong today?’

Unfortunately they had only just begun.

With a long sigh, Charlie left his uncle’s room, and walked straight into a pile of towels.

His other grandmother, Maisie Jones, who was carrying the towels, staggered backwards and then sat down with a bang.

‘Watch out, Charlie!’ she shouted.

Charlie pulled his rather overweight grandmother to her feet and, while he helped to gather up the towels, he told Maisie about Paton’s note and the problem of Runner Bean.

‘Don’t worry, Charlie,’ said Maisie. Her voice sank to a whisper as Grandma Bone came up the stairs. ‘I’ll look after the poor pooch. As for Uncle P– I’m sure it’ll all turn out for the best.’

Charlie went back to his room, dressed quickly and told Runner Bean that food would be coming, if not directly, then as soon as Grandma Bone went out. This could be any time of day, or not at all, but Runner Bean wasn’t bothered. He curled up on the bed and closed his eyes. Charlie went downstairs.

Maisie was filling the washing machine and Amy Bone, Charlie’s mother, was gulping down her second coffee. She told Charlie to have a good day, pecked him on the cheek and rushed off to the greengrocer’s where she worked. Charlie thought she looked rather too chic for a day weighing vegetables. Her golden brown hair was tied back with a velvet ribbon, and she was wearing a brand new corn-coloured coat. Charlie wondered if she’d got a boyfriend. He hoped not, for his vanished father’s sake.

Five minutes after his mother had left, Grandma Bone came downstairs in a black coat, her white hair now bundled up under a black hat. She told Charlie to brush his hair and then walked out with an odd smile on her pinched face.

As soon as she’d gone, Charlie ran to the fridge and pulled out a bowl of leftovers: last night’s lamb stew. Maisie grinned and shook her head, but she let Charlie take some of it to Runner Bean in a saucer. ‘That dog should be exercised before Grandma Bone comes back,’ she called.

Charlie took her advice. When Runner Bean had wolfed down the stew, Charlie took him out into the back garden, where they had a great game of hunt the slipper: a slipper that Charlie despised because it had his name embroidered in blue across the front.

Runner Bean was just chewing up the last bit of slipper, when Maisie flung open an upstairs window and called, ‘Look out, Charlie. The Yewbeams are coming!’

‘Stay here, Runner,’ Charlie commanded. ‘And be quiet, if you can.’

He leapt up the steps to the back door and ran to the kitchen, where he sat at the table and picked up a magazine. The aunts’ voices could be heard as they climbed the front steps. A key turned in the lock and then they were in the hall: Grandma Bone and her three sisters, all talking at once.

The great-aunts marched into the kitchen in new spring outfits. Lucretia and Eustacia had exchanged their usual black suits for charcoal grey but in Aunt Venetia’s case, it was purple. She also wore high-heeled purple shoes with golden tassels dangling from the laces. All three sisters had sinister smiles, and a threatening look in their dark eyes.

Aunt Lucretia said, ‘So here you are, Charlie!’ She was the eldest apart from Grandma Bone, and a matron at Charlie’s school.

‘Yes, here I am,’ said Charlie nervously.

‘Same hair, I see,’ said Aunt Eustacia, sitting opposite Charlie.

‘Yes, same hair,’ said Charlie. ‘Same hair for you too, I see.’

‘Don’t be cheeky.’ Eustacia patted her abundant grey hair. ‘Why haven’t you brushed it today?’

‘Haven’t had time,’ said Charlie.

He became aware that Grandma Bone was still talking to someone in the hall.

Aunt Venetia suddenly said, ‘Tah dah!’ and opened the kitchen door very wide, as if she were expecting the Queen or a famous film star to walk in. But it was Grandma Bone who appeared, followed by the prettiest girl Charlie had ever seen. She had golden curls, bright blue eyes and lips like a cherub.

‘Hello, Charlie!’ The girl held out her hand in the manner of someone expecting a kiss on the fingers, preferably from a boy on bended knees. ‘I’m Belle.’

Charlie was too flustered to do anything.

The girl smiled and sat beside him. ‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘A ladies’ magazine.’

Charlie realised, to his horror, that he was holding his mother’s magazine. On the cover a woman in pink underwear held a kitten. Charlie felt very hot. He knew his face must be bright red.

‘Make us some coffee, Charlie,’ Aunt Lucretia said sharply. ‘And then we’ll be off.’

Charlie flung down the magazine and ran to the coffee maker while Grandma Bone and the aunts sat babbling at him. Belle would be going to Charlie’s school, Bloor’s Academy, and Charlie must tell her all about it.

Charlie sighed. He wanted to visit his friend, Fidelio. Why did the aunts always have to spoil everything? For half an hour he listened to the chattering and giggling over the coffee and buns. Belle didn’t behave like a child, thought Charlie. She looked about twelve, but she seemed very comfortable with the aunts.

When the last drop had been squeezed out of the coffee pot, the three Yewbeam sisters left the house, blowing kisses to Belle.

‘Take care of her, Charlie,’ Aunt Venetia called.

Charlie wondered how he was supposed to do that.

‘Can I wash my hands, Grizel – er – Mrs Bone?’ Belle held up her sticky fingers.

‘There’s the sink,’ Charlie nodded to the kitchen sink.

‘Upstairs, dear,’ said Grandma Bone, with a scowl in Charlie’s direction. ‘Bathroom’s first left. There’s some nice lavender soap and a clean towel.’

‘Thank you!’ Belle skipped out.

Charlie gaped. ‘What’s wrong with the kitchen?’ he asked his grandmother.

‘Belle has tender skin,’ said Grandma Bone. ‘She can’t use kitchen soap. I want you to lay the dining room table – for five. I presume Maisie will be joining us.’

‘The dining room?’ said Charlie in disbelief. ‘We only eat there on special occasions.’

‘It’s for Belle,’ snapped Grandma Bone.

‘A child?’ Charlie was amazed.

‘Belle is not just any child.’

So it seems, thought Charlie. He went to lay the dining room table while Grandma Bone shouted instructions up to Maisie. ‘We’d like a nice light soup today, Maisie. And then some cold ham and salad. Followed by your lovely Bakewell tart.’

‘Would we indeed, your highness?’ Maisie shouted from somewhere upstairs. ‘Well, we’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. Oops! Who on earth are you?’

She had obviously bumped into Belle.

Charlie closed the dining room door and went to the window. There was no sign of Runner Bean in the garden. Charlie had visions of a dog’s lifeless body lying in a gutter. He ran to the back door, but just as he was about to open it, a sing-song voice called, ‘Charleee!’

Belle was standing in the hall, staring at him. Charlie could have sworn that her eyes had been blue. Now they were green.

‘Where are you going, Charlie?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I was just going into the garden for a . . .a . . .’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘No. That is, I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Good. Come and talk to me.’

Was it possible? Belle’s eyes were now a greyish brown. Charlie followed her into the sitting room where she sat on the sofa, patting a cushion beside her. Charlie perched at the other end.

‘Now, tell me all about Bloor’s.’ Belle smiled invitingly.

Charlie cleared his throat. Where should he begin? ‘Well, there are three sort of departments, Music, Art and Drama. I’m in Music so I have to wear a blue cape.’

‘I shall be in Art.’

‘Then you’ll wear green.’ Charlie glanced at the girl. ‘Haven’t my aunts told you all this? I mean, are you staying with them, or what?’

‘I want to hear it from you,’ said Belle, ignoring Charlie’s question.

Charlie continued. ‘Bloor’s is a big grey building on the other side of the city. It’s very, very old. There are three cloakrooms, three assembly halls and three canteens. You go up some steps between two towers, cross a courtyard, up more steps and into the main hall. You have to be silent in the hall or you’ll get detention. The Music students go through a door under crossed trumpets, your door is under the sign of a pencil and paintbrush.’

‘What’s the sign for the Drama students?’

‘Two masks. One sad and one happy.’ Why did Charlie get the impression that Belle knew all this? Her eyes were blue again. It was unnerving.

‘There’s another thing,’ he said. ‘Are you – er – like me; one of the children of the Red King? I mean, was he your ancestor too?’

Belle turned her bright blue gaze on him. ‘Oh, yes. And I’m endowed. But I prefer not to say how. I’m told that you can hear voices from photographs, and even paintings.’

‘Yes.’ Charlie could do more than hear voices, but he wasn’t going to give anything away to this strange girl. ‘Endowed children have to do their homework in the King’s room,’ he said. ‘There are twelve of us. Someone from Art will show you where it is: Emma Tolly. She’s a friend of mine, and she’s endowed too.’

‘Emma? Ah, I’ve heard all about her.’ Belle inched her way up the sofa towards Charlie. ‘Now, tell me about you, Charlie. I believe that your father’s dead.’

‘He’s not!’ said Charlie fiercely. ‘His car went into a quarry, but they never found his body. He’s just – lost.’

‘Really? How did you find that out?’

Without thinking, Charlie said, ‘My friend Gabriel’s got an amazing gift. He can feel the truth in old clothes. I gave him my father’s tie and Gabriel said that he wasn’t dead.’

‘Well, well.’ The girl gave Charlie a sweet, understanding smile, but the effect was spoiled by the cold look in her eyes – now a dark grey. And, was it a trick of the light, or did he glimpse a set of wrinkles just above her curved pink lips?

Charlie slipped off the sofa. ‘I’d better help my other gran with lunch,’ he said.

He found Maisie in the kitchen, throwing herbs into a saucepan. ‘All this fuss for a child,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Nor me,’ said Charlie. ‘She’s a bit strange, isn’t she?’

‘She’s downright peculiar. Belle indeed!’

‘Belle means beautiful,’ said Charlie, remembering his French. ‘And she is very pretty.’

‘Huh!’ said Maisie.

When the soup was ready Charlie helped Maisie to carry it into the chilly dining room. Grandma Bone was already sitting at the head of the table, with Belle on her right.

‘Where’s Paton?’ asked Grandma Bone.

‘He won’t be coming,’ said Charlie.

‘And why not?’

‘He doesn’t eat with us, does he?’ Charlie reminded her.

‘Today, I want him here,’ said Grandma Bone.

‘Well, you won’t get him,’ said Maisie. ‘He’s gone away.’

‘Oh?’ Grandma Bone stiffened. ‘And how d’you know that?’ She glared, first at Maisie and then Charlie.

Maisie looked at Charlie.

Charlie said, ‘He left a note.’

‘And what did it say?’ demanded Grandma Bone.

‘I can’t remember all of it,’ Charlie mumbled.

‘Let me see it!’ She held out a bony hand.

‘I tore it up,’ said Charlie.

Grandma Bone’s eyebrows plummeted in a dark scowl. ‘You shouldn’t have done that. I want to know what’s going on. I must know what my brother said.’

‘He said he’d gone to see my great-grandpa, your father, although you never go to see him.’

His grandmother’s tiny black eyes almost disappeared into their wrinkled sockets. ‘That’s none of your business. Paton visited our father last week. He only goes once a month.’

Charlie only just stopped himself from mentioning his own visit to his great-grandfather. Because of the family feud it had to remain a secret. But Uncle Paton had never told him what caused the feud or why he mustn’t talk about it. He’d have to tell another lie. ‘It was an emergency.’

This seemed to satisfy Grandma Bone, but Belle continued to stare at Charlie. Her eyes were now dark green and a chilling thought occurred to him. Uncle Paton had gone to stop someone dangerous from arriving. But perhaps that person was already here?

The invisible boy

The rest of lunch was eaten in stony silence. Even Maisie seemed lost for words. But just as Charlie was clearing the plates there was a series of loud barks from the garden, and Runner Bean’s head appeared at the bottom of the window.

Grandma Bone, who had her back to the garden, swung round just as the dog bobbed out of sight.

‘What was that?’ she said.

‘Obviously a dog, Grizelda,’ said Maisie. ‘A stray has probably jumped into the garden.’

‘I’ll go and shoo it out,’ Charlie offered.

As he left the room he noticed that Belle looked worried.

Charlie ran to open the back door and Runner Bean came leaping in.

‘Sssh!’ said Charlie urgently. ‘Not a sound!’ He put a finger to his lips.

Runner Bean appeared to understand this and obediently followed Charlie up to his room.

‘You’ve got to be quiet, or it’s curtains for you.’ Charlie drew a finger across his throat.

Runner Bean grunted and curled up on the bed.

‘Did you catch it?’ asked Belle, when Charlie returned to the dining room.

‘No, I just shooed it away,’ said Charlie.

Belle stood up. ‘I want to go home now,’ she said to Grandma Bone.

‘Very well, dear.’ With surprising speed, Grandma Bone walked into the hall and put on her coat and hat.

Charlie was amazed. His grandmother always had a nap after lunch, even if it was just a snack. The golden-haired girl seemed to have some sort of power over her.

‘Where is home, exactly?’ he asked Belle.

‘Don’t you know where your great-aunts live?’ she said.

Charlie had to confess that he didn’t. He’d never been invited to their home, and never been told where it was.

‘I expect you’ll find out soon enough,’ said Belle mysteriously.

‘There’s no need for him to know,’ said Grandma Bone, helping her into a smart green jacket.

‘Bye-bye, then, Charlie!’ said Belle. ‘I’ll see you at Bloor’s on Monday. I’m going to be on the green bus. Watch out for me.’

‘I’ll be on the blue bus. But I expect I’ll see you some time.’

The strange girl smiled and tossed her golden curls. Her eyes were blue again.

When Belle and Grandma Bone had gone, Charlie went to help Maisie with the washing-up.

‘Where do the aunts live?’ he asked Maisie.

‘Some big house at the end of one of those creepy alleys,’ said Maisie. ‘Darkly Wynd, I think the road’s called. Funny name – perhaps it’s winding and twisty.’

‘I’ve never been there.’

‘Nor me,’ said Maisie. ‘And I jolly well wouldn’t want to.’ She handed him a bowl of leftovers. ‘Here, take this to Runner. I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to keep this up. Grandma Bone’s bound to smell a rat, you know.’

‘As long as it’s not a dog,’ said Charlie, trying to make light of the problem.

Maisie just shook her head.

On Sunday, Charlie managed to sneak Runner Bean in and out of the house before Grandma Bone woke up. They had a good race round the park and then Charlie fried bacon and eggs for their breakfast. Apart from a brief run in the garden after dark, Runner Bean spent the rest of the day on Charlie’s bed.

On Monday morning Charlie’s mother promised to take the dog for a walk when she got back from work, and Maisie agreed to keep him fed. But as Charlie got ready for school he began to worry.

‘You must keep quiet,’ he told Runner Bean. ‘No barking, understand? I’ll see you on Friday.’

With mournful eyes the big dog watched Charlie close the door between them.

* * *

As Charlie and his friend, Fidelio, walked up the steps to Bloor’s Academy, Fidelio said, ‘There’s a very pretty girl trying to get your attention.’

‘Oh.’ Charlie turned to see Belle looking up at him from the bottom of the steps.

‘Hullo, Belle. This is Fidelio,’ he said.

Belle gave Fidelio a dazzling smile. ‘I see you’re in Music. Violin?’ She nodded at the case Fidelio was carrying.

‘Yes,’ murmured Fidelio. He seemed rather lost for words, which was unusual for him.

‘See you later.’ Belle skipped into the hall. ‘I remember,’ she whispered, ‘no talking.’ And off she waltzed, towards the pencil and paintbrush sign. Her green cape floated round her in a particularly stylish way as she bobbed into the green cloakroom.

‘Wow!’ said Fidelio, as soon as they had passed under the two trumpets. ‘Who is she, Charlie?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Charlie muttered. ‘She’s staying with my great-aunts. What colour would you say her eyes were?’

‘Blue,’ said Fidelio. ‘Bright blue.’

‘Well, the next time you see her, they’ll probably be green or brown,’ said Charlie.

‘Really?’ Fidelio looked interested. ‘I can’t wait to see that.’

They went into assembly where Fidelio joined the school orchestra and Charlie took his place beside Billy Raven, the youngest child at Bloors. He was an albino, with snow white hair and spectacles that made his round red eyes look permanently surprised.

After assembly Charlie had a trumpet lesson with old Mr Paltry. He hadn’t practised over the holiday and found himself out of breath and out of tune. Mr Paltry rapped his knuckles, shouting, ‘No, no, no! A flat, not sharp!’ His squeaky voice almost deafened Charlie, and when the bell went he was so eager to escape he almost fell over Olivia Vertigo as he raced for the garden door.

Today her hair was striped black and gold, her face was covered in white powder and her eyes were ringed with black. She looked more like an exotic racoon than anything else, though Charlie refrained from saying so.

Unfortunately, Fidelio didn’t. ‘Hi, Olivia! Are you playing a racoon this term?’ he asked as he strolled up.

‘Who knows,’ said Olivia. ‘Manfred’s writing the end-of-term play – with Zelda’s help, of course.’ She nodded at a group of sixth formers on the other side of the playing field. Manfred, the head boy, was talking earnestly to Zelda Dobinski, a tall, skinny girl with a large nose.

Charlie noticed that Manfred’s sidekick, Asa Pike, was staring at Belle walking arm in arm with Dorcas Loom. Asa broke away from the group of sixth formers and walked across to the two girls. He had a crooked smile on his pale, weaselly face and, as he approached the girls, he ran his fingers through his red hair, almost as if he were trying to tidy himself up.

Charlie grabbed Fidelio’s arm. ‘Look!’ he said. ‘Asa’s speaking to a junior. I bet that’s never happened before.’

‘Except when he’s been telling them off,’ said Fidelio.

‘That girl with Dorcas is really pretty,’ muttered Olivia.

‘Her name’s Belle,’ Charlie told her. ‘She’s living with my great-aunts.’

Olivia whistled. ‘I can’t imagine any child living with them. By the way, have you seen Emma?’

The boys shook their heads and Olivia sauntered off to look for her friend. She eventually found Emma sitting on a log by the old castle walls. She was holding what appeared to be a small, neatly-written letter.

‘What’s up, Em?’ said Olivia, perching beside her.

‘I found this by Mr Boldova’s desk.’ Emma held up the letter. ‘It must have fallen out of his pocket. I didn’t mean to read it. I meant to give it back, but then I saw something and . . . well, look.’

Olivia took the letter and read,

My dear Samuel,

We have it on good authority that the shifter is heading your way. What form it will take God only knows. But it will recognise you, so get out of that place, Samuel, as soon as you can. I have resigned myself to losing Ollie, although your mother still grieves. She can’t stop herself from buying the jam he so loved. We have a room full of the stuff now, and it breaks my heart to see it. I know you feel your brother’s loss as deeply as we do, but you must give up the search. We could not bear to lose you, too. Come home soon.

Dad

‘What d’you think?’ said Emma.

‘Interesting,’ said Olivia. ‘But I think you should put the letter back on Mr B’s desk. It’s none of our business who he is, or what he’s up to.’

‘But it is.’ Emma pushed her long blonde hair out of her face. She was very agitated. Olivia knew her friend liked Mr Boldova. He was young for a teacher, but he was good at art, and he seemed to be on the children’s side whenever there was trouble.

‘You remember when Manfred locked me in the attic, well someone let me out, and whoever it was had a passion for jam. I heard Manfred teasing him about it. I know this sounds peculiar but he, or she, seemed to be invisible. And then there was this boy, Ollie Sparks, who was lost in the attics ages ago. He got out eventually and everyone thought he’d gone home, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was punished. Maybe he’s still up there.’ She glanced up at the tiled roof of the academy.

‘Hmm. So what d’you want to do about it?’ asked Olivia.

Emma shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

A hunting horn sounded across the garden and the two friends agreed to talk again in the afternoon break.

Emma’s next lesson was French, but first she ran to the art room. It was empty and she was just sneaking the letter on to Mr Boldova’s desk, when he walked in.

‘Emma?’ He looked surprised. ‘Shouldn’t you be in another lesson?’

‘French, sir. But, it’s just that I . . .well, I’m really sorry, but I read your letter and . . .’ Suddenly Emma found herself telling Mr Boldova about the invisible presence in the attic, the person who liked jam.

Mr Boldova listened intently and then he sat at his desk and said, ‘Thank you, Emma. Thank you very much. Will you promise not to tell anyone else about this?’

‘But I’ve already told Olivia Vertigo, and she might tell some of our friends.’

‘Can you trust them, Emma?’

‘With my life,’ said Emma.

Mr Boldova smiled. He looked a rather outdoor sort of person for an artist. His face was tanned and his dark brown hair was drawn back in a ponytail, somewhat like Manfred Bloor’s, only Manfred’s hair was black and stringy.

Emma said, ‘What happened to Ollie, sir? We thought he’d gone home after he escaped from the attics.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ sighed the teacher. ‘Our parents live a long way from here. Dr Bloor agreed to put Ollie on a train in the company of the matron’s sister, a Miss Yewbeam. She told us that Ollie went to get an orange juice from the station cafeteria, and never came back.’

‘I bet he never even got as far as the train,’ said Emma hotly. ‘Those Yewbeams are evil. They’re Charlie Bone’s great-aunts, you know, and they make his life a misery.’

‘Ah, Charlie Bone,’ Mr Boldova said thoughtfully.

‘I’d like to help Ollie,’ Emma went on. ‘He helped me, you see, and I could probably find the place where he’s kept.’

‘Better leave it to me, Emma. It could be dangerous.’

‘Sounds like it could be dangerous for you too, sir.’

‘I can take care of myself,’ Mr Boldova said cheerfully. ‘Now run along to your French lesson.’

Emma went, but she didn’t hurry. She had too much on her mind. She was ten minutes late for her French lesson, and Madame Tessier was furious. She was an excitable woman and always hated the first day of term. She missed the sunny French city where she had been born, and complained constantly about the gloomy, grey academy, with its creaking floorboards, erratic heating and poor lighting. She was only there because Dr Bloor offered her a salary she couldn’t resist.

‘Go! Go!’ she shrieked at Emma. ‘You don’t want my lesson, you don’t come in. It eez too late. So allez – allez!’ She waved her long fingers at Emma. ‘Get out!’

Emma got out – quickly.

‘You too,’ came a husky whisper.

Emma looked down the corridor and saw Charlie Bone standing outside the history room. He had just said that Napoleon was the Emperor of Russia. Mr Pope, the history teacher, had screamed at Charlie, telling him he was an ignoramus, and he didn’t want to see him in his class a minute longer.

‘I didn’t really hear the question.’ Charlie’s loud whisper echoed across to Emma. ‘I was thinking about a dog.’

Emma glanced up and down the corridor. There was no one about. ‘What dog?’ she whispered.

In as quiet a voice as he could manage, Charlie told Emma about Benjamin and Runner Bean. ‘Why were you sent out?’ he asked.

‘I was just late,’ said Emma. She recounted her conversation with Mr Boldova.

Charlie’s eyes gleamed with interest. Yet another mention of someone dangerous on the move. Was it possible that they were one and the same?

‘So you reckon Ollie Sparks is in the attics?’ He paused and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. ‘Let’s go and look, shall we?’

Emma was horrified. ‘What, now?’

‘I can’t think of a better time,’ said Charlie. ‘We’ve got half an hour before the end of the lesson. Everyone else is in class, so who’s going to see us? I’m bored stiff hanging around out here.’

Before Emma could think of an excuse, Charlie had sprinted off towards a staircase at the end of the corridor. Emma wished she hadn’t told Charlie about the attics. He was inclined to rush into things without thinking them through. But she felt she had no choice but to follow.

They crept up one staircase after another. Once they bumped into Dr Saltweather, who interrupted his humming to ask where they were going. ‘We’ve been sent to get books from the library,’ said Charlie. And Dr Saltweather waved them on, although they were nowhere near the library. But Dr Saltweather was oblivious to everything but his precious music.

They ran along dark passages and through empty, creaking rooms and, as they drew near to the west wing of the building, Emma became increasingly nervous. She still had nightmares about the time when her only escape was to become a bird and fly.

Memory, or instinct, led her to the cell-like room where Manfred Bloor had once imprisoned her. Light from a tiny window showed dark walls patched with green slime, a narrow bed covered in filthy blankets and black, broken floorboards.

‘What an awful place,’ Charlie murmured.

‘Manfred locked me in,’ said Emma. ‘But then someone turned the key on the other side, and the door opened. I rushed to see who it was but there was no one there. Manfred caught me and brought me back, but – and this is the strange part – he said to someone, “Any more trouble and you won’t get jam for a week.” That’s why I thought it might be Mr Boldova’s brother, Ollie. Because he liked jam.’

‘Perhaps he’s been locked in some other gruesome room like this one.’ As Charlie turned to the door it suddenly slammed shut. Charlie lifted the latch and pulled. Nothing happened. The door appeared to have jammed. ‘Must have been a draught,’ muttered Charlie.

‘There isn’t any draught,’ said Emma.

‘But what else could it have been? No one came in. We’d have seen them.’

‘Maybe they were invisible.’

‘Hey!’ called Charlie. ‘Is anyone there?’

No reply.

‘What on earth are we going to do?’ cried Emma. She looked at her watch. ‘We’ve only got twenty minutes.’

‘This is stupid.’ Charlie rattled the door while Emma pulled the latch.

‘It must be Ollie,’ said Emma. ‘Ollie! Ollie Sparks, are you there?’

Silence.

‘Ollie, we’ve come to help,’ Charlie explained. ‘If you’re there open this door, please!’

Emma and Charlie waited. There was a soft creak. A key turned in the lock. Charlie pulled the door and it swung inwards. There was no one in the passage outside.

The two children stepped out. They squinted down the shadowy passage, searching for a door, a recess, any place where someone could be hiding. Emma’s foot touched an empty jar and it rolled away, filling the passage with a loud rumble. When the jar finally came to rest, faint footfalls could be heard receding into the distance.

‘He’s running away,’ Emma whispered.

They chased the footfalls down the passage, up a rickety set of steps and into a long room with a narrow skylight. The floor was littered with empty jam jars and comic books. At the far end of the room there was a bed with a clean-looking pillow and a patchwork cover. An oil lamp sat on a small bedside table and a huge cupboard stood just inside the door. There was nothing else in the room except a spindly chair and a battered desk that had been placed beneath the skylight.

‘Ollie,’ Emma said softly. ‘Ollie Sparks, are you here?’

‘What if I am?’ said a rather mournful voice.

‘Why can’t we see you?’ asked Charlie.

There was a pause before the voice replied, ‘Cos I’m invisible, aren’t I?’

‘What happened to you?’ asked Emma.

‘The blue boa got me.’

‘Boa?’ said Charlie and Emma.

‘Snake,’ went on the mournful voice. ‘Awful thing. I saw it, see. No one’s meant to see it. It’s a secret. A secret weapon.’ There was a croaky laugh. ‘Once I’d seen it, they weren’t going to let me tell about it, so they brought me back here, and it – well, I was like a guinea pig – they let the boa squeeze me, only I didn’t die, I just got invisible.’

‘Hell!’ gasped Charlie.

‘It didn’t get all of me.’ A breathless sort of giggle shivered on the air. ‘It missed my big toe.’

In horrified fascination Charlie’s eyes were drawn towards the floor. Emma couldn’t help screaming. She had already seen it: a small pink blob, lying just a few steps away from them.

‘Sorry,’ said the voice. ‘It used to have a bit of sock and shoe on it, but the shoe got too small, and the sock wore out. A toe’s a bit disgusting on its own, isn’t it?’

‘Not at all,’ said Charlie cheerfully.

‘They tried to get all of me back,’ said the voice. ‘They made me drink revolting potions, and threw smelly liquid over me, and once they covered my bed in spiderwebs while I was asleep.’

‘That is so gruesome,’ said Emma.

Charlie said, ‘Ollie, why don’t you escape? The door’s not locked. You could easily run away. No one would see you.’

‘You try it.’ The voice sounded very aggrieved. ‘I came out once. People walked into me, knocked me down – some of them screamed. I couldn’t get out of the main doors, no one can. I didn’t feel safe, so I came back here.’

‘It must be so horrible, all alone,’ said Emma. ‘What do you eat?’ She was actually wondering how Ollie ate, but was too polite to ask.

‘The food’s mostly disgusting, but Manfred gives me nice jam. I suppose he does it to keep me quiet. And, in case you’re wondering, I eat just like anyone else. Only you can’t see the food once it’s inside me.’

Emma hoped Ollie couldn’t see her blush.

Charlie had an idea. ‘If you come down to the dining hall at suppertime, we’d all be sitting still. No one would bump into you, and I could make room for you between me and my friend, Fidelio. The food’s not so bad on the first day of term.’

Silence. Perhaps Ollie was thinking.

Emma remembered the most important thing of all. ‘Ollie, your brother’s here,’ she said. ‘He’s come to look for you.’

‘What? Samuel? I can’t believe it. Wow!’ Suddenly the pink toe jumped into the air and there was a small thud as two feet landed back on the floor.

‘So, if you come down to supper, you can see him,’ said Charlie.

‘Yes. Oh, yes . . .’ A pause. ‘But I won’t know the time. I haven’t got a watch.’

Charlie took off his watch and held it out. ‘You can borrow this.’

It was disturbing to see a watch gradually disappear into thin air.

‘Don’t worry, it’ll come back when I take it off. Everything I wear becomes invisible,’ Ollie explained. ‘Everything I eat or hold or put on.’

Emma glanced at her own watch and cried, ‘We’ve only got five minutes. We’ll never make it.’

She dashed out of the room and down the steps while Charlie followed, calling, ‘Sorry, Ollie. Got to get back to class. Hope to see – er – hear you later!’

Emma and Charlie tore down the empty passages, often taking the wrong turn, or the wrong staircase, but ending up, at last, on the landing above the entrance hall. Their relief was short-lived. Approaching them from the other side of the landing was Dr Bloor.

The big man strode towards the children. ‘Why aren’t you two in class?’ he boomed.

Emma and Charlie froze. They couldn’t think of an explanation.

Dr Bloor stared down at them with cold, pale eyes. Suspicion was written all over his big face with its dull grey skin and thick, bluish lips. ‘Well, I’m waiting.’

‘We – er . . .’ Charlie floundered.

‘Ah, there you are,’ said a voice, and Mr Boldova appeared behind the headmaster. ‘I’ve been looking for these two,’ said the art teacher. ‘Did you find it?’

Charlie swallowed, ‘Um . . .’

‘That rat’s such a rascal.’ Mr Boldova turned to the headmaster. ‘I brought it along for the children to draw, but it keeps escaping. When I saw these two idling away I asked them to look for it. Any luck, Charlie?’

‘No, sir.’

‘And now we’re late for our next lesson,’ said Emma meaningfully.

‘Dear, oh dear,’ said Mr Boldova. ‘I’d better explain to your teachers. All my fault. Come along, kids. Sorry about this, Dr Bloor.’

Mr Boldova propelled the two children past Dr Bloor towards the corridor that led to the classrooms.

Dr Bloor swivelled round to watch them go. ‘That rat must be found,’ he shouted. ‘See to it, Mr Boldova.’

‘Of course, Headmaster.’

As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlie whispered, ‘Thanks, sir. I think we were heading for detention.’

‘Keep walking,’ the art teacher said quietly.

But Emma couldn’t remain silent any longer. ‘We found Ollie,’ she said softly.

Mr Boldova almost tripped. He gripped the children’s shoulders and said, ‘What? Tell me how – where?’

As they hurried on to their classrooms, Charlie and Emma took turns to tell the teacher about poor Ollie and his invisibility.

‘Ollie’s going to try and get down to supper tonight, sir,’ said Charlie. ‘So you might . . . well, he might be able to talk to you.’

‘I can hardly believe it,’ murmured Mr Boldova. ‘Invisible or not, Ollie’s here, and he’s alive. I thought they’d taken him to one of those awful castles of theirs. I’ve spent almost a year trying to find out which one.’

‘Do they have many, sir?’ asked Charlie.

‘At least five,’ said Mr Boldova. ‘This is so incredible. I shall take Ollie home at the first opportunity. We’ll find a way to cure him when we get home.’

They had reached Madame Tessier and Mr Pope, who stood fuming outside their classrooms. Mr Boldova quickly explained that he had borrowed Emma and Charlie to search for his rat, Rembrandt, who had escaped from his cage. The two teachers grudgingly accepted his apologies and told the children to hurry along to lunch.

‘I’ll see you two at suppertime,’ said Mr Boldova, giving the children a big smile. And he walked away, whistling merrily.

Would Charlie’s plan for Ollie work? He was sure it wouldn’t be as easy as Mr Boldova seemed to think.

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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