by Jenny Nimmo
"Oh, of course. Did you see his new parents?"
"Yes, and I don't like the look of them. They don't really want Billy I saw some photos on Manfred's desk and . . . well . . . I'm worried, Em. I'm sure it's not normal, the way those people just turned up and took Billy away"
"The Bloors do a lot of abnormal things," said Emma grimly "But they get away with it because they’re the oldest family in the city and everyone's scared of them, even the mayor and the councillors."
They think Manfred and Ezekiel can do anything, but they're wrong," Charlie muttered. "By the way, s omeone stole my wand."
"What?" Emma dropped a book. "Charlie, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet. I shouldn't have taken it to school, but I thought 1 might need it to kind of help me learn things."
"But still ..." Emma shook her head. "Oh, Charlie, this is serious."
"You're telling me, but it's mine, Em. Truly mine. It's got nothing to do with the Yewbeams or the Bloors, and it won't work for them."
"But if they can't use the wand, they'll destroy it."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Before Charlie could say any more, a very tall man with black hair and dark glasses walked through the curtained door behind the counter.
“Ah, Charlie, I thought I heard your voice." He suddenly looked at the light hanging over the counter, said, "Oh, darn," and began to back out.
Emma rushed to the light switch beside the curtain, but it was too late. There was a loud pop, and the lightbulb shattered, sending a shower of glass onto the antique books.
"Oh, Paton, really!" came an exasperated female voice from behind the curtain.
"Sorry Julia! Sorry!" said Paton Yewbeam. "How was I to know the light was on? The sun's shining in there."
"I put it on to see the books better," Emma said plaintively "Don't worry I'll clean it up." She reached under the counter for the dustpan and brush, which had been kept handy ever since Paton's first visit to the bookstore.
Emma's aunt, Julia, now appeared behind the counter. "It could have been worse, I suppose."
Charlie was very surprised to see his uncle in the store so early in the day As a rule, Paton never went out in daylight. He was embarrassed about his talent and afraid that he would be seen accidentally exploding traffic lights or the illuminations in store windows — even lights in private houses were at risk.
There must have been something very urgent to summon Uncle Paton to the bookstore. Unless, of course, it was Julia Ingledew. She was a very beautiful woman and Uncle Paton had fallen under her spell the moment he first saw her.
"Can I help?" offered Charlie, as he watched Emma and Miss Ingledew sweep up the tiny fragments of glass.
"Just go and talk to your uncle," said Miss Ingledew, "and keep him out of mischief." She gave a wry smile.
Charlie made his way past the curtain into Miss Ingledew's back room. Here, shelves crammed with books lined every wall. Books were piled on tables, on the floor, on chairs, and on Miss Ingledew's large mahogany desk. The whole room glowed with the warm colors of old bindings and gold tooling; it smelled of leather and very old paper. Candles had been lit on every spare surface because the small window let in very little light, and today Julia didn't want to put the table lamps at risk.
Uncle Paton sat on a small sofa surrounded by newspapers, folders, and yet more books. When Charlie appeared, his uncle removed his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes. "No darn use," he said in a troubled tone. “Although, I swear these glasses have prevented a few accidents." He put the glasses in the top pocket of his black corduroy jacket. "So, Charlie, your mother tells me you got detention again."
"Yes, and Aunt Eustacia had to pick me up," Charlie said reproachfully
Paton shrugged. "Sorry dear boy But you know I can't drive in daylight."
"At least I'm still alive," said Charlie. "I'm surprised to find you here, Uncle P."
"Ah! I came before sunrise," said Uncle Paton, avoiding Charlie's eyes. "Julia phoned me last night. Someone put a letter through her door, addressed to me. All very intriguing. So I came by as soon as I dec ently could. As a matter of fact, the letter concerns a pal of yours, Charlie."
Which one?" Charlie sat beside his uncle.
"Billy Raven. It's very odd." Uncle Paton pulled a crumpled envelope out of his pocket. It was addressed to Mr. Paton Yewbeam in frail, rather elegant handwriting. "I'd like to know what you make of it, Charlie."
Paton withdrew two sheets of paper. As he did so, a small candle fell out. Charlie caught it and held it up. "This is exactly like the candles Billy has. He doesn't know where they came from."
"Obviously from the man who wrote this letter. It proves their connection." Paton peered at the candle. "It's beautiful."
At that moment, Emma walked in. She was told to sit down and listen. Uncle Paton cleared his throat and began to read the mysterious letter.
“Dar Mr. yewbeam,
Forgive me for insinuating myself into your life in this unconventional manner, but truthfully, I had no choice. Should a certain person in your household chance upon the contents of this letter, it would be nothing short of a disaster."
"He means Grandma Bone," said Charlie.
Pat on nodded grimly and continued.
"Your name, Mr.Y ewbeam, was given to me by one of the few people in this city whom I know I can trust. And the lady whose mailbox I had to make use of is a lso a friend to the children, so I am told. You know the children of whom I speak? Y es, the endowed descendants of the Red King, those vulnerable children who are trying to use their talents in a manner that honors the name of their ancestor, his most esteemed majesty, the magician-king himself. There a re others, I know, who defile his name and abuse their inherited talents. Alas , the child who is my greatest concern is neither on one side nor the other. I a m Billy Raven’s guardian. When the boy 's fa ther, Rufus Raven, and his pretty wife (they were both Ravens, you know , second cousins) realized that there was no escape from the Bloors and your malevolent (forgive the adjective) sisters, they begged me to become Billy 's guardian , to watch ov er him, to protect and guide him; in short, to save him f rom becoming like the Bloors. But when Billy was orphaned, he was sent to an aunt who had little interest in nurturing the essentially good heart that he was born with. Instead, she chose to ignore the boy until he revealed his endowment, and then it was off to Bloor's for poor Billy.
"Mr. Yewbeam, you must be wondering why I have so seriously neglected my duty. Where has this would-be guardian been for six years? you must be asking yourself.
"In prison, Mr. Yewbeam."
At this point, there was a gasp from Miss Ingledew, who had just entered the room. "Prison?" she said. "Paton, you didn't tell me he'd been in prison!"
“A detail I previously omitted for your peace of mind, Julia," said Paton.
Miss Ingledew perched on the arm of the sofa. "Your uncle has only read half of this letter to me," she told Charlie. "I'd better hear the rest."
Paton gave her a tender smile. "We shall benefit from your opinion, Julia."
"Oh, please, go on," begged Charlie.
"Where was I?" Paton ran his finger down the page in a maddeningly casual way
"Prison!" cried Charlie. "He said he’d been in prison."
"Ah, yes. Here we are." Paton jabbed the paper with his finger and continued.
"In prison, Mr. Yewbeam.
"Let me assure you — I was not guilty. I was tricked by th
at wretch Weedon, on his master's orders, of course. The dreadful brute tried to murder me (a blow to the head in the dark while I was putting the cat outside). But having failed, he framed me as an armed robber. Me, of all people! I am a printer. I deal in fine paper, precious inks, a pure line. I deal in words, engravings, letterheads, pamphlets, et cetera. Nevertheless, I was caught at the scene of a vicious robbery and eventually sent to prison. Last week I was released early —for good behavior.
"My first thought was of Billy, and so I contacted a loyal friend at Bloor's Academy. To my horror, I discovered that Billy was to be adopted by F lorence and Usher de Grey . I ca nnot stress how disastrous this would be for Billy.
"Mr. Y ewbeam, will you help me? Could you arrange for me to meet Billy, clandestinely? I know that your great-nephew, Charlie, has been a good friend to the boy, and perhaps he could be involved in the enterprise. Ultimately, We must get Billy away from the de Greys, but such a venture will have to be planned with the utmost care, the utmost secrecy.
"I will contact you again soon, Mr. Y ewbeam. In the meantime, I look forward to our future collaboration.
"Yours, in hope,
C. Crowquill"
"Well!" exclaimed Miss Ingledew "How extraordinary"
"It must have been Cook," said Charlie thoughtfully. "Cook is Mr. Crowquill's friend at the academy I bet. She told me shed heard from one of Billy's relatives. And she said something about a Castle of Mirrors. Do you know where it is, Uncle P.? Billy's ancestor came from there, and it might be kind of important to him."
"Never heard of it," said Uncle Paton. "Charlie, have you seen these de Grey people?"
"Yes, I've seen them," said Charlie, "and I've, er, you know — heard their voices. Mr. de Grey said he didn't like children. So, obviously he didn't want to adopt Billy"
"Is he with the de Greys now?" asked Miss Ingledew
"They came to get him today" said Charlie. "But he's coming to my place on Sunday so we can go to the Pets' Café together. I'll tell him about Mr. Crowquill, shall I, U ncle P?"
No." U ncle Paton held up his hand. "Not yet, Charlie. I shall have to give this meeting a great deal of thought. For now, it would be best if Billy didn't know about his guardian. If he inadvertently let the cat out of the bag, Mr. C. Crowquill would be in grave danger once again."
"OK. I won't tell him yet. The de Greys might not be very good parents, but at least Billy has got out of Bloor's Academy"
"Out of the frying pan and into the fire, if you ask me," said Emma gravely
************************************
On Sunday morning, while Charlie waited for Billy to arrive, Grandma Bone came downstairs wearing her Sunday best: a hat made of black feathers, a voluminous charcoal-gray coat, and a stole in the form of two dead minks. The minks' tails hung down her back, while their heads met each other under her chin. The animals' reproachful glass eyes always gave Charlie the shivers, and he tried not to look at them when he met his grandmother in the hall.
"Grandma, do you . . . ?" Charlie began.
"Out of my way," she barked. "Eustacia's picking me up."
Sure enough, there was a horrible squeal of brakes as Aunt Eustacia's car hit the curb outside number nine Filbert Street.
"I just wanted to ask if you knew where my friend Billy Raven is living now?" Charlie persisted.
"Of course, I know," snapped Grandma Bone. "But I'm not telling you." She pushed Charlie out of the way opened the front door, and slammed it shut behind her.
A few seconds later, Charlie heard the familiar screech of tires and a loud thump as Eustacia backed into a lamppost. There was a muffled shriek from Grandma Bone, and the car sped off.
Charlie slouched back into the kitchen muttering, "Old bat. She won't tell me where Billy lives."
"Don't worry, Charlie," said Maisie. "I expect your little fr iend is having a nice lunch with his new par ents. He’ll turn up later."
"I suppose," said Charlie.
Almost every Sunday afternoon, Charlie and his friends met at the Pets' Café. Today Charlie waited for Billy until four o'clock, and then he left the house by himself When he reached Frog Street, he could hear the noise from the café echoing down the narrow alley: barking, howling, yelping, twittering, and squawking.
The café stood beneath the rocks of a huge, ancient wall; in fact, the place was built right into the rock and looked as if it had been part of the wall for hundreds of years. The words " PETS' CAFE " had been painted above a large window, and to emphasize that this was strictly a café for animals accompanied by humans, pictures of tails, paws, whiskers, wings, and claws decorated each letter of the sign.
Charlie walked through a green door and came face-to-face with a large man wearing a T-shirt decorated with parrots.
“Ah, Charlie Bone," said Norton, the bouncer. "About time, too. Your friends have almost given up on you, and as for your dog, he's going berserk."
"Got held up," said Charlie. “nd Runner's not my dog."
"He is while that friend of yours is in Hong Kong."
There was a joyful bark from behind the counter, and a large yellow dog rushed at Charlie, almost knocking him to the floor.
"Hi, Runner!" Charlie gave the dog a hug and looked for his friends. Emma and Gabriel sat at a corner table, sharing a plate of cookies. They were both drinking glasses of a bright pink liquid, and three of Gabriel's gerbils were lapping up the spillage.
"Cherry Blossom Cordial," Gabriel explained as Charlie led Runner Bean up to the table. "Gerbils love it!"
"I'll say," Charlie observed as he sat between his friends. "One's keeled right over."
"Oops, so it has." Gabriel scooped up the prostrate gerbil and put it in his pocket. "It'll recover," he said confidently "It's Mrs. Onimous' new recipe. Powerful stuff. Want a sip?"
"No, thanks, but I'll have a cookie." Charlie took two cookies, one for himself and one for Runner Bean.
The big clog crunched it gratefully and then laid his chin in Charlie's lap, hoping for more.
"Where are the others?" Charlie asked, feeding Runner Bean another cookie.
"Tanc and Sander couldn't wait," said Emma. "You took ages, Charlie. I thought you were bringing Billy"
"He never showed. What about Olivia? Have you seen her? Did she get the part?"
Emma shrugged. "I phoned her house twice but no one answered. She promised to meet me here but — I don't know, something must have come up."
"Maybe by now she's a star and won't talk to the likes of us," said Gabriel.
"Not Livvy." Emma shook her head. "She's not like that. She'll show up."
But Olivia never appeared. Nor did Billy Eventually the three friends got tired of waiting. Emma and Gabriel went home and Charlie took Runner Bean for a walk. The boy and the dog were just approaching Frog Street after a good half-hour jog when Runner Bean gave a loud bark and tugged his leash.
On the other side of the road, Charlie saw Olivia darting into an alley She threw Charlie a quick, furtive glance and then disappeared. Curious about her strange behavior, Charlie ran across the road. By the time he reached the alley Olivia had disappeared, but Runner Bean tugged Charlie down the alley across a cobblestoned square, and then into an area of small shops.
In the distance, a girl in a white T-shirt and black jeans looked back at Charlie and began to run again. But she was no match for the dog. Pulling his leash out of Charlie's hand, Runner Bean raced up the street and soon caught up with Olivia. Leaping up at her, he began to bark excitedly
"Get off! Go away!" shouted the girl.
"Hold on, Liv," crie
d Charlie. "It's only Runner. What's the matter with you?"
Olivia slumped against the wall while Charlie ran up and grabbed the dog's collar. "He wouldn't hurt you, Liv He was just pleased to see you." Charlie stopped. "What is it? You look awful."
"Thanks very much!" Olivia grimaced.
"I don't mean “wful,' 1 just mean . . . different," said Charlie quickly.
Olivia's face was streaked with tears, her eyelids were swollen, and her hair was a mess. She was wearing sneakers, and her T-shirt looked crumpled. Gone were the bright colors and wild clothes that she usually wore. Charlie had never seen his friend look so normal and yet so distressed. He felt he should ask about the audition; it would be worse to avoid such an important question.
"Did you get the part?"
Olivia's lips formed a tight line. She kicked the ground with the toe of her shoe and, through gritted teeth, replied, "No!"
"Oh, wow, I'm sorry." This seemed inadequate, but what else could Charlie say?
"Don't be," Olivia said furiously "I don't want people to (eel sorry for me."
"OK. But what happened? Do you want to talk about it?"
Olivia thought for a moment and then decided that she very much wanted to talk. She wanted to talk and talk until the whole shameful, humiliating experience was out in the open, being shared by at least one other human being — and a dog.
The day had begun well. Olivia had ended up on the list of finalists with five other girls. "They were all smaller than me," she said with a frown, "but Mom said that didn't mean anything. There was this girl sitting next to me; she had pigtails and freckles and a silly high voice. She was thirteen, Charlie, but she was TINY." Olivia's frown deepened. "She kept saying that I was bound to get the part because my mom is famous."
"That's not a very nice thing to say," Charlie remarked.
"No, but I was too confident to realize that. I went into that room and did my monologue — acted my socks off I was really good, I KNOW I was. And I was so sure I'd got the part. There were four of them sitting at the table, two men and two women. They didn't even take notes. And when I finished, the director, a friend of Dad's actually, smiled at me and said, “hank you, Olivia. That was very good, but not quite what we're looking for.'" A tear made its way down Olivia's cheek. "Pigtails got the part," she said grimly.
