by Jenny Nimmo
from Runner Bean. A woman appeared in the store doorway. She looked exactly like the girls, except that she was bigger and a lot older.
"We don't open until nine o'clock," the woman said coldly. "If you want to come in, you'll have to wait. And get rid of the dog."
"I don't want to come in!" Benjamin backed away. He pointed at the sign. "Why does it say "Not the Pets' Cafe?"
"That's my business," the woman replied.
Benjamin suddenly felt compelled to look at the two girls. There was something very odd about them. He could almost feel the intense concentration in their dark eyes. Runner Bean's hair was standing up like a brush. Benjamin shook his head and shivered. The girls were staring at one of the ladders, and the ladder was sliding off the van. It hovered for a moment and then began to move toward Benjamin.
"STOP!" roared the black-haired woman, glaring at the girls in the window. "Wrong time."
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The ladder gave a shudder and slid back into place.
The two workmen looked at each other in disbelief. "What was that?" one muttered.
"Wind," snapped the woman and strode back into her shop.
Benjamin had seen enough. He tore down the street, with Runner Bean bounding and barking beside him. They didn't stop running until they had reached number nine Filbert Street.
Benjamin leaped up the steps and rang the bell, calling, "Charlie! Charlie!"
The door was opened by Maisie. "Good heavens, Benjamin Brown, what's the trouble?" she asked.
"There's another cafe, Mrs. Jones," Benjamin said breathlessly. "Only it's Not the Pets' Cafe."
Maisie frowned. "There are lots of other cafes, Benjamin, dear," she said gently.
"But not Not the Pets' Cafe cafes."
Maisie didn't know what to make of this. Benjamin was a nice boy, but he sometimes got the
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wrong end of the stick. "I think you need to see Charlie," she said. "He's gone to see Mr. Onimous."
"The Pets' Cafe!" cried Benjamin. "That's where I should be." He jumped down to the sidewalk and tore up the street with his long-legged dog racing in front of him.
Maisie watched them for a moment, shook her head, and closed the door.
"Who was that?" a voice called from the sitting room. "Was it the mail? I'm expecting something."
"It wasn't the mail, Grizelda," said Maisie.
"Who, then?" Grandma Bone came into the hall. "I hate mysteries."
"It's not a mystery," Maisie told her. "It was just Benjamin Brown. He was rambling on about a cafe that wasn't for pets."
To Maisie's surprise, Grandma Bone began to laugh. "Ha-ha-ha," she cackled. "That'll teach them."
It always worried Maisie when Grandma Bone's laughter turned spiteful. Perhaps Benjamin wasn't so deluded after all.
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Benjamin and Runner Bean were now racing, side by side, along High Street. It was still early and there were only a few shoppers around. They turned the corner onto Frog Street and came upon a dreadful scene. The Silks' old van was parked halfway down the narrow alley, and Charlie, Gabriel, and Mr. Silk were piling boxes and furniture into it. The small yard in front of the cafe was crammed with chairs, cupboards, tables, boxes, and a large iron bedstead. Two woebegone figures sat on the bed: Mr. and Mrs. Onimous. Mrs. Onimous was weeping copiously, while her husband held one of her hands and stared stonily ahead.
"What's happened?" cried Benjamin.
"Landlord," shouted Charlie as he and Gabriel lifted a roll of carpet into the van.
"Landlord? But I thought..." Benjamin looked at the Onimouses.
"Yes, Ben," Mr. Onimous said bitterly. "The landlords kick you out if you haven't paid your rent. But we own the Pets' Cafe and we've paid
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our rent. We've done nothing to deserve this. Nothing."
"So why?" Benjamin approached Charlie and Gabriel.
"The council," said Charlie. "They said the cafe wasn't safe for the public. And the Onimouses can't live here anymore because the wall at the back is crumbling."
"It isn't crumbling," muttered Mr. Silk, throwing an angry glance at the hired mover, a sickly-looking creature with thin, sepia-colored hair. He was throwing bags from the doorway onto the muddy cobblestones. One of the bags burst open and a pile of socks and stockings rolled out.
Mr. Onimous jumped up from the bed and ran across to the mover, shouting, "Be careful! Those are our belongings."
The mover snickered and backed into the darkness of the empty cafe.
"He doesn't look like a mover, does he?" Benjamin remarked.
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Charlie had to agree. He had never seen a mover before, but he was sure that men who spent their lives moving other people's furniture should be a bit more robust than the skinny individual who was flinging bags into the alley. His assistant, however, was built like a heavyweight boxer. He wore only a white undershirt and camouflage pants, and his shoulders were as wide as the table he was now maneuvering through the door.
"I've got something awful to tell you," Benjamin said to Charlie.
"This is awful," said Charlie.
Mr. Silk closed the doors at the back of the van and said, "I'm sorry, Orvil, we can't get any more in. I'll run this load up to the Heights and come back for the rest."
"Oh, let me come." Mrs. Onimous slid from the bed and ran over to the van. "Please, Cyrus. I want to make sure there's a place for everything in your barn. Are you sure we won't be an inconvenience?"
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"Not at all, Onoria. Hop in!" Mr. Silk opened the passenger door. "And you, too, Orvil. There's room for three at the front. The boys'll watch your stuff, won't you, boys?"
"Of course!" said the boys.
"It's very good of you, Cyrus," cried Mr. Onimous, hurrying over to the van. "I don't know how we'll ever --"
"Only too glad, Orvil." Mr. Silk got into the driver's seat and slammed the door while Mr. Onimous climbed in beside his wife.
All at once, the little man jumped out again and ran over to Charlie. "Keep this for me," he said, pressing a small gold key into Charlie's palm. "You know what it's for." He winked at Charlie and ran back to the car. Mr. Silk honked once and the van rattled down the alley and onto High Street.
"What was that all about?" asked Gabriel as Charlie tucked the key into his pocket.
"It's for the door into the castle tunnel," Charlie said quietly.
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Gabriel and Benjamin looked at him as though they expected him to say more.
"It might come in handy," Charlie said with a shrug.
"Are the Onimouses coming to live with you?" Benjamin asked Gabriel.
Gabriel nodded. "It's going to be a bit of a squash, and my sisters aren't too happy about it because they've all got to sleep together. But where else can the poor Onimouses go? We've got a nice dry barn for their stuff, and some of it can go in my gerbil house, in a pinch. But we couldn't take the cafe chairs and tables. They've already been taken away."
"I wish I could have the Onimouses living with me," Benjamin said wistfully. "Mrs. Onimous makes great pet food."
Just then the movers walked out of the cafe, slamming the door behind them. One of them produced a bunch of keys and, carefully selecting one, locked the door. He rubbed his hands together and declared, "All done!"
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As the two men passed the boys, the one in the white undershirt said, "Looks like rain, boys. Hope this stuff doesn't get wet!" He jerked a thumb at the bed. "Could be ruined."
The boys glared at him and then, as the men walked down the alley, Charlie muttered, "Thinks he's so macho, but I can see goose bumps."
The undershirt man came to a halt and looked back with a snarl on his face. Runner Bean gave one of his famous throaty growls and the man hurried after his companion.
"This is an awful, awful day," moaned Benjamin as soon as the men were out of sight.
"You can say that again," agreed Charlie.
"I mean worse than awful," cried Be
njamin, and he told them about the Not the Pets' Cafe, the peculiar twins, and the floating ladder.
"The Brankos!" Charlie exclaimed. "So that's where they live."
"Brankos?" Benjamin looked puzzled.
"They're telekinetic," Charlie explained. "I'm sure
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I've told you about them. They're forever moving stuff when we're trying to do homework: books, pencils, and things. They knocked a wall down once and nearly buried me. They're Manfred's slaves."
Benjamin was even more glad that he didn't have to go to Charlie's school.
"I bet Manfred put those Brankos up to it," Gabriel grunted. "I mean, it's like a slap in the face, isn't it, calling it Not the Pets' Cafe when he knows the Pets' Cafe was our favorite place?"
"Look!" Charlie suddenly pointed to the sloping roof of the cafe. Three bright cats had appeared at the very top; Leo, the orange cat, stood on the apex, the other two perched on either side of him.
"They've lost their home," Gabriel said sadly.
"No, they're wanderers," Charlie told him. "Their home is everywhere and nowhere. I think they're guarding the place."
"There's nothing left to guard," said Gabriel.
"There's the secret tunnel that leads under the wall to the castle," Charlie reminded him. "And I bet
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those movers are going to come back later and look for it. The Bloors have always wanted to find it, and now's their chance. My dad hid something very, very precious that old Ezekiel wants, and now I'm wondering if Dad hid it at the end of that tunnel."
Gabriel and Benjamin were now regarding Charlie with very puzzled frowns, and Charlie realized he would have to tell them a bit more. "There's a box," he went on. "My uncle told me about it. He thinks there's a will in it, a will that proves Billy Raven should have inherited Bloor's Academy and all the money the Bloors have stashed away."
"Wow!" Benjamin collapsed onto the iron bedstead, causing a great rattling of springs.
Gabriel, however, continued to stare at Charlie with a frown that grew deeper every second.
"What?" said Charlie. "Don't you believe me?"
"Why did your father hide it in the first place," Gabriel asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "if he knew there was something so important in it?"
"He didn't know," Charlie said patiently. "The box
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couldn't be opened. The key was lost. Before Billy's father died, he asked my dad to look after the box. He didn't tell him what was in it because he didn't know. And then my dad was hypnotized, as you very well know, and..." Charlie grimaced. It was hard for him to admit that his father had not completely recovered from his long ordeal and that his memory had not been entirely restored. It meant that Lyell Bone would never again be the brave young man who had once defied the Bloors. Charlie found that difficult to accept.
"And what?" Benjamin gently prodded.
"And he hasn't remembered everything that happened before," said Charlie. "But he will," he added confidently, "when he comes back from vacation."
"Of course he will," said Benjamin.
"But the Bloors don't want him to remember," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "Do they, Charlie?"
"No," he admitted.
It took Mr. Silk two more journeys to get all the
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Onimouses' possessions up to the Heights. Gabriel joined his father on the last trip, and Benjamin and Charlie were left in the deserted alley. They gazed sadly at the silent cafe, and then walked on to High Street, both hoping desperately that it wouldn't be long before the Pets' Cafe was once again full of joyfully lapping, munching, chewing, pecking creatures, and their equally happy owners.
Benjamin's parents were private detectives and were often working on Saturdays. But today they were at home and Mrs. Brown had promised Benjamin he would have lamb chops and mint sauce for lunch. As soon as they reached Filbert Street, Benjamin ran eagerly toward number twelve, and Runner Bean, who sensed that good bones were soon to be had, raced beside his master.
Charlie had carrot soup and cheese for lunch. Grandma Bone was spending the day with her three sisters, and Uncle Paton had left on yet another mysterious journey.
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"Gathering information, that's what your uncle said," Maisie told Charlie. "Are you going over to Benjamin's after lunch?"
"Yes," Charlie lied, although, at the time, it wasn't really a lie because he might have gone over to Benjamin's. It was just that the more he thought about it, the more inclined he became to return to the Pets' Cafe.
When he had helped Maisie to wash up, Charlie went to his room and did his homework. At half past three, with a shout of "See you later, Maisie," he left the house and made his way back to the empty cafe. Pressing his face close to the window, he looked for a light that might be showing in the kitchen. But the cafe was dark and silent. Nothing moved. Charlie now had a burning desire to get into the place, but he had no key and he had seen the mover lock the door. He tried it, just in case. The handle turned, but the door wouldn't budge. Charlie told himself that he was being foolish; if anyone intended to
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search the place, they would probably wait until nightfall. And then he heard footsteps in the alley.
Charlie darted around the side of the cafe and pressed himself into the corner, where the cafe wall met the great stone edifice of the old city wall. He heard the clink of keys. The door opened and was closed. Charlie waited, breathlessly, and then tiptoed around to the front of the building. He looked through the window but could see nothing. As quietly as he could, he turned the door handle and pushed. The door opened. Charlie was in.
Footsteps creaked above him. Whoever had entered the cafe, they were beginning their search upstairs. There was a chance that Charlie could reach the place he wanted before anyone saw him. He crept through the kitchen and into a long hallway. The farther he went, the darker and narrower it became. Soon the stone floor gave way to an earthen path. Now the brick ceiling was so low that Charlie could touch it with his fingers. Eventually he reached
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a small circular cavern where Mr. Onimous stored food for the cafe. Crates of apples, along with sacks and tea chests, were still piled against the walls. Perhaps this place would never be found, thought Charlie. And yet he didn't hold out much hope of that. Whoever the Bloors had chosen to search the Pets' Cafe, they wouldn't give up until they had explored every room and every hall. They would move the sacks and crates and, eventually, they would find the door that Charlie was about to open.
Grunting with the effort, Charlie began to push two heavy tea chests away from the wall until he revealed an ancient door, little more than a few feet high. Squeezing himself behind the tea chests, Charlie fitted Mr. Onimous's key into the lock. It turned with a light click and the door creaked open. Behind it lay a darkness so intense, Charlie hesitated. He had been in the tunnel twice before, but never alone. It was time for the gift from his Welsh ancestor.
Charlie had inherited two strains of magic. His picture traveling came from the Red King and
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his wand from Mathonwy, a Welsh magician. The wand was now a white moth, a moth with such bright wings, she could illuminate the deepest darkness.
"Claerwen!" Charlie said softly.
Answering to her name, the white moth crawled from beneath Charlie's collar, where she had been sleeping. In English the name meant "snow white." She was nine hundred years old.
The white moth fluttered into the tunnel and Charlie followed, bending his head as he stepped through the low doorway. Before he went any farther, he closed the door behind him, hoping that it would not be seen behind the two tea chests. If he had locked the door, things might have turned out differently. But he forgot.
The tunnel was damp and airless. Several times, Charlie slipped on the wet ground. Claerwen's light gave the damp walls a misty shine. The tunnel began to curve and twist, and Charlie had to put one hand on the wall to keep his balance. Halfway d
own the tunnel a long fissure appeared in the wall. Charlie
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squeezed through it and into another tunnel, this one so narrow he had to shuffle sideways. The little moth swinging above gave him courage, and after five long shuffling minutes, Charlie emerged into an astonishing room.
Outside, the sky was a dull gray, but here everything was bathed in sunlight. The ground was paved with tiny squares of color: yellow, red, and orange, a mosaic of a burning sun. The walls showed golden domes, silver clouds, and leafy arbors, where tall robed figures strolled together or rested on long marble seats. In the vaulted roof a painted sun appeared again, and in the very center a perfect circle opened to the sky.
Charlie walked around the perimeter of the circular floor, touching the pillars set at intervals between the painted walls. What had he expected to find? A wooden box placed neatly behind a pillar or tucked into a small cavity in the wall? For this room was very special. It had once been the Red King's chamber, hidden from the world. Even now, only a
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very few people knew of it, and Charlie was certain that the Bloors were not among them. It was a perfect hiding place.
Charlie felt the smooth painted walls; he knelt and scrutinized the paved floor, running his hands over the colored squares. He squinted up at the vaulted ceiling and prodded the bricks at the base of each pillar. But there was no sign of a box. Perhaps his father had hidden it in the castle? It was too late to search the vast ruin. Charlie decided to give up for now, but as he gazed around the bright room, he felt a great surge of hope. He was convinced that he would find the box. Perhaps not today, but sometime very soon. And Billy would have his inheritance -- if he could be rescued from Badlock.
