by Jenny Nimmo
"Thanks for getting me out of there, Uncle Paton," said Charlie, as he closed Paton's door behind him.
"Not at all, not at all. I really do need you, Charlie." Paton seemed very excited about something. "I've been experimenting. Look!"
He took a book from his desk, opened it, and began to read. Still reading, he walked to the switch by the door and turned on the light that hung in the center of the room.
Expecting the light to shatter, Charlie ducked. But nothing happened.
"I thought that you took all the lightbulbs out of your room," said Charlie.
"So I did, so I did," Paton murmured, still intent on his reading, "but I've put one back."
"So what's going on?" said Charlie.
"Turn the light off dear boy" said Paton. "I can't talk and concentrate on my book at the same time."
Mystified, Charlie turned off the light. His uncle's room was once again bathed in the soft glow from the oil lamp on his desk.
"So, Charlie, are you surprised the lightbulb didn't break?" asked Paton.
"Well, yes," said Charlie, "but then you don't always break them, do you? Not if you're, kind of relaxed."
"Exactly." Paton gave a sigh of satisfaction. "When my mind's switched off" he laughed, "if you'll excuse the pun. When my thoughts are elsewhere, as it were, I'm less prone to accidents of the electrical kind. So — I decided if I read a very engrossing book while in the presence of an electrified lightbulb , the bulb might not shatter."
"I see," Charlie said slowly "That's very interesting, Uncle Paton."
"More than interesting, dear boy It worked. It's a darn miracle." Paton beamed with triumph. "I can go out in daylight if I'm reading a book. I can walk past lighted shop windows. I can walk near traffic lights without breaking them. Perhaps, I can even enter a coffee shop — if I'm reading."
Charlie could see drawbacks in his uncle's plan. It would be dangerous for Paton to wander through the city streets, not seeing where he was going. "It could be a bit chancy," he said. "You might get run over."
"That's where you come in, Charlie. If you were with me, you could see the pitfalls. I thought tomorrow we might take a walk in the direction of the cathedral, just to test my theory"
"I take it that you mean in the direction of Ingledew's Books," said Charlie.
His uncle went pink, especially around the ears. He gave a small cough and said, "I can't deny it. Miss Ingledew has been much in my thoughts. I feel that were she to see me, walking about in daylight, she wouldn't think me such a freak."
"She doesn't think you're a freak, Uncle. It's just that trying to be a mom to Emma is using up all her energy."
Paton gave a huge sigh and shook his head. "No. Charlie. She's wary of me, and who could blame her.”
"OK. Tomorrow we'll take a walk to Ingledew's ,” said Charlie, a little reluctant to be drawn away from the things on his mind.
"Thank you, Charlie!"
The telephone in the hall began to ring.
"I wonder if that's for me," muttered Charlie.
"Better find out," said Paton. “You can bet that my sisters won't pass on any messages."
Charlie went out to the landing and looked down into the hall. He was just in time to see Grandma Bone pick up the receiver, and shout, "He's not here!" and bang it down again.
"Was that for me?" asked Charlie.
Grandma Bone glared up at him. "Of course not," she said. "Who do you think you are?"
"I live here," said Charlie, "and it's just possible my friends might want to talk to me."
"Ha!" snorted Grandma Bone.
The Yewbeam aunts emerged from the kitchen. They were still brushing down their coats and patting their heads.
"There's a bit," cried Venetia , grabbing a lock of Eustacia's gray hair.
Eustacia yelled, "Get it out! Get it out!"
Unfortunately Aunt Lucretia looked up and saw Charlie smiling. "You can wipe that grin off your face," she said. "We haven't finished with you, yet."
The three sisters trooped out through the front door and then stood on the step, whispering to Grandma Bone.
The telephone rang again and this time Charlie swooped down the stairs and picked up the receiver before Grandma Bone could get to it.
"Hi. Is that you, Charlie?" It was Gabriel.
"Yes," said Charlie cautiously
“A nasty voice told me you weren't there, but I didn't believe her."
"My grandma," said Charlie.
Grandma Bone closed the front door and stood watching Charlie.
"Is she there?" asked Gabriel.
"Yes," said Charlie, turning his back on Grandma Bone.
"Look, Charlie. I found something in the lane outside our house. Several things actually I think you ought to see them."
"Where shall we meet?" asked Charlie.
"Mom's delivering some stuff to the Pets' Café tomorrow afternoon," said Gabriel. "Meet me there."
Charlie had never heard of the Pets' Café. "Where's that?"
" Frog Street ," said Gabriel. "Between Mud Lane and Water Street . Just behind the cathedral."
This was good news. "I'm going there with my uncle," said Charlie. "Can I bring him?"
"Sure. Is it your glass-breaking uncle? He's brilliant."
"It is."
"Great. Got to go now See you tomorrow about three o'clock. Ouch! Gerbil bit me. Bye!"
There was a loud clunk. It sounded as if Gabriel had dropped the phone.
When Charlie looked around, Grandma Bone had gone. He peeped into the kitchen. She wasn't there so Charlie made himself a quick snack and sat down. The table had been cleared of broken glass but something lay where the cake had been — a small picture, placed face down. Charlie guessed that it had been left there on purpose and, knowing his aunts, he was sure that it was a trick. But what sort of trick? He concentrated on his food, refusing to look at the picture.
And then he began to wonder if it really was a trick. Gradually Charlie's gaze was drawn to the dark panel at the back of the picture. It looked very old; the wood was cracked and covered with tiny worm holes, the screws were rusty and the string had broken.
Charlie took a breath and flipped the frame over. He saw a small painting of a room. But what kind of room? He couldn't resist taking in the details.
On the right of the painting, a tall man in a black robe was looking at a skull that lay at his feet. The man's dark beard was threaded with silver and he wore a round black skullcap on his silver hair. A table covered in red cloth stood in an alcove behind the man. The table was piled with books, bowls, feathers , bundles of herbs, animal horns, and gleaming weapons. The bare stone walls had been covered in strange symbols and the man was in the act of drawing another: a star with five points.
Charlie found himself staring at the skull. He tried to look away from it, but he couldn't. He began to hear sounds; a low chanting in a strange language, the scraping of chalk on stone, the rustle of heavy robes. And then, suddenly the man turned his head and looked at Charlie, looked right into his eyes.
Charlie gasped and quickly whipped the painting over. Out in the street a car door slammed and he heard his mother's voice. A man spoke and his mother laughed. She rarely laughed. What had the man said, and who was he?
When Mrs. Bone walked into the kitchen, Charlie could still see the yellow eyes of the man in the black robe, fixing him with a glare of triumph.
"Charlie, are you all right?" said Amy Bone. "You look very pale."
"I, er . . ." Charlie touch
ed the back of the painting. He found that he couldn't explain what had happened to him, so he asked, "Where were you?" There was a nasty whine in his voice that he couldn't help.
"I've been to see Divine Drums. I wanted you to come with us, but you weren't here. Charlie?"
"Us?" said Charlie, sounding even more sulky "Who's us?"
"Bob Davies and myself." Mrs. Bone smiled encouragingly. "He got three tickets and you were supposed to have come. I couldn't disappoint him when I found you weren't here, could I?"
"Who's this Bob Davies?" asked Charlie, hating the whine in his voice.
"Charlie, what's come over you?" Mrs. Bone pulled out a chair and sat beside him. "Bob's just a friend, a very nice man who wanted to take us to the theater. Why are you so grumpy?"
Charlie was ashamed. He said, "I'm sorry Mom. I. . . something happened to me, just now The aunts left that." He nodded at the painting, not wanting even to touch it.
Mrs. Bone picked up the painting. "The Sorcerer," she said, reading the painted scrawl at the bottom of the picture.
Charlie hadn't even noticed that the painting had a title. "I think it was a trick," he murmured.
"What sort of trick, Charlie?"
"I don't know yet." He carefully turned the painting over again.
"Tell you what," said Mrs. Bone, patting Charlie's shoulder. "I'll just run upstairs and change my clothes, and then we'll have a nice cup of tea before you go to bed, shall we?"
"Yes," said Charlie, wondering how a cup of tea could take away the memory of the sorcerer's eyes.
He noted the sparkle of sequins on his mother's dress as she began to unbutton her coat. "Mom, Dad might not be . . ."
Mrs. Bone swung around. "Might not be what?"
"Might not be dead," Charlie said quietly
"Oh, Charlie, bless you. Of course, he is." She gave Charlie a peck on the cheek and hastened out. She didn't seem as sad as she usually did at the thought of his father. This worried Charlie.
Mrs. Bone had only been gone a few seconds when Uncle Paton poked his head around the door. He was holding a lighted candle. "1 feel hungry," he said. "Mind if I turn the light out, Charlie?"
Charlie shook his head. The lamp above the table went out and Uncle Paton walked to the fridge. He brought out a plate of cold ham and tomatoes. He set the plate and a candle on the table. He was about to speak when he saw the back of the painting.
"I hope that isn't what I think it is," said Paton.
"What do you think it is?" asked Charlie, alarmed by his uncle's grim expression.
"I'm very much afraid that it might be……..” He turned the painting face up and sighed. "Yes, I thought so. 1 suppose my sisters left it here."
"Is it someone in the family?" asked Charlie.
"Indeed, yes. His name was Skarpo ," said Paton , "and he was a very powerful sorcerer."
"Uncle Paton, my . . . my endowment," Charlie spoke hesitantly "I thought it only worked with photos."
Paton stared at Charlie. "Do you mean that you have heard . . .?" He pointed at the sorcerer. "Did this man speak to you?"
"Not exactly," said Charlie, "I just heard . . ."
"Charlie!" Paton slammed the painting face down on the table. "You didn't go in, did you?"
"Go in?" said Charlie wildly "What do you mean 'go in'? I was just looking at it when he . . . when he turned his head and stared at me."
Paton regarded Charlie with a mixture of fear and concern. "Then he has seen you," he said gravely
And as his uncle spoke, Charlie heard the moan of a chill wind. He heard the rattle of chains, a terrible cry and the shrill, dry chanting of Skarpo the sorcerer.
THE PETS’ CAFÉ
For a few seconds, Charlie and his great-uncle looked at each other in complete silence. And then Paton sat at the table and said, "I wish I'd known about this before, but to tell the truth, Charlie, I've only just learned what your endowment could lead to."
"I don't understand," said Charlie. At the back of his mind he could still hear the dreadful chanting voice.
"It's like this," said Paton. “As you know, I've been working on a history of the Yewbeams and their ancestor, the Red King. This has entailed a great deal of research, in the course of which I have come across several characters whose talents are very similar to yours and those of your friends. One of them, a certain Charles Pennybuck , began by hearing portraits speak — he lived long before photos had arrived on the scene — this eventually led to his entering the portraits and conversing directly with the — how shall we say — the persons depicted in the paintings
"You mean, they could see him, too?"
"Oh, yes," said Paton. "Unfortunately poor Pennybuck came to a very sticky end. Got caught in the portrait of a really nasty character, the Count of Corbeau , if I remember rightly Went quite mad."
"Who?" asked Charlie. " Pennybuck or the count?"
" Pennybuck , of course," said Paton. "Oh dear, I probably shouldn't have told you that, Charlie. Now, you mustn't worry I'm sure it won't happen to you."
"But what about Skarpo ?" said Charlie anxiously "I mean if he's seen me . . ."
"Ah, Skarpo !" Paton went to the fridge and took out a bottle of cider. " Hm ." He took two glasses from a cupboard and brought them to the table.
" Skarpo ," Charlie prompted. "You were saying?"
" Skarpo lived about five hundred years ago. This portrait is very old." Paton tapped the back of the picture. "He was the kind of sorcerer that Ezekiel Bloor would like to have been, but old Ezekiel could never manage anything like Skarpo ."
"Such as what?" asked Charlie.
"Better for you not to know." Paton held up the bottle. "Want some cider, dear boy? I'm sure you could do with some." He poured a glass for himself.
"No, thanks," said Charlie impatiently "Uncle Paton, I think you might tell me a bit more about Skarpo . I mean what's going to happen to me now that he’s' seen me?"
"I've no idea," said Paton. "Perhaps nothing will happen. And then again, perhaps you can actually make use of his power. There was a lot of it, according to my books. Just be on your guard, Charlie. If you find yourself acting strangely then come and tell me, and we'll try and figure something out."
This wasn't very reassuring, but Charlie realized it was the best he could hope for. He decided to take a sip of Paton's cider and then another.
"Feasting in the dark," said Mrs. Bone, turning on the light.
"Woops!" said Paton, averting his eyes from the lamp. "Watch out, Amy I've already had one accident today."
"Sorry Paton, I forgot." Mrs. Bone turned off the light and proceeded to make a pot of tea by candlelight.
Charlie took his mug of tea up to bed. When he left the kitchen Paton was listening, enraptured, as Mrs. Bone described every scene in Divine Drums. Because of his light-exploding problem he hadn't been able to visit a theater since he was a child, and he loved to listen to Amy Bone's animated accounts. She could be a very good storyteller, when she did something out of the ordinary
The following afternoon, Charlie and his uncle set off for the Pets' Café. At the end of Filbert Street , they met Benjamin and Runner Bean.
"Why is your uncle reading a book?" asked Benjamin, as if Paton were not there.
Charlie's uncle was hardly aware of Benjamin, he was concentrating fiercely on the large book that he held only a few inches from his nose.
Charlie explained that it was an experiment.
“Ah," said Benjamin with a knowin
g smile. "Can me and Runner come, too? You might need extra help."
The two boys walked on either side of Paton, whileRunner Bean loped ahead. It was a chilly gray Sunday and luckily there weren't many people about. Charlie felt slightly embarrassed, walking beside a man with his nose in a large book.
There was a tricky moment when they reached the traffic lights. Paton was about to walk across a red light, when the boys shouted, "NO!" Paton glanced up startled, and Charlie whispered urgently "Don't look at the lights, Uncle Paton!"
“Ahem," murmured Paton, stepping back onto the curb.
"Whew!" breathed Benjamin. "That was close."
They resumed their journey avoiding traffic lights where they could, and guiding Paton across the busiest roads. At last they found Water Street and, a little further on, a narrow alley with the sign of a frog high on the wall.
"Doesn't look like a proper sign," Benjamin commented.
"It must be Frog Street ," said Charlie, "because it's next to Water Street ." He didn't dare to ask his uncle for advice because there was a lighted window just below the frog sign.
Runner Bean settled the question. He ran down the alley barking excitedly and the boys had no option but to follow him. It seemed a very unlikely place for a café, but as they walked further from the main road they began to hear the barks, grunts, and screechings of many creatures.
"Sounds like a zoo," said Benjamin.
Runner Bean had disappeared around a bend at the end of the alley and was now barking deliriously Charlie put a hand on his uncle's arm and steered him around the corner.
And there was the Pets' Café. It appeared to have been built into an ancient wall and filled the entire end of the alley On one side a small green door stood open to the street, and on the other a group of dogs stood barking at Runner Bean through a huge latticed window: Above the window there was a sign filled with paintings of animals. The words THE PETS' CAFÉ could just be made out between twirling tails, paws. whiskers , wings, and claws.
