by Jenny Nimmo
‘Especially if that mother-in-law of yours is on the prowl,’ said Chloe grimly.
Amy intended to go straight home and yet, when she found herself walking down the High Street, something made her turn and look at a splendid building on the other side of the road. Green marble pillars stood on either side of the entrance, and every one of the ninety-nine windows sparkled with a soft light, the sort of light that tells the world the room beyond holds treasures that most people can only dream of.
Amy crossed the road. She stepped into the recess behind the pillars. Green and gold marble swirled above her head and beneath her feet. Two doormen wearing green frock coats and shining top hats stood on either side of a gleaming oak door. Their white-gloved fingers rested lightly on the large bronze door handles.
‘Are you going in, Madam?’ asked one of the doormen in a bored voice.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Amy decisively.
He was obliged to open the door.
Amy walked in. She had only twice been into Kingdom’s. Once, long ago, with her husband, Lyell. It was here that he had spent a whole month’s salary on the diamond ring that Amy still wore on the third finger of her left hand. Surprising tears came to her eyes and she quickly brushed them away.
All around her, velvet-covered counters displayed exquisite jewellery, silk scarves and extravagantly packed oils, creams and perfumes. Hand-written cards with names that Amy had never heard of, and prices she dared not think of, peeped slyly from behind leather boxes, coloured bottles, glittering tins and velvet bags.
Lanterns hung low over every counter, casting a brilliant light on the displays beneath, while the assistants stood in shadow. Only a pair of pale hands could occasionally be glimpsed, hovering over the counters. Amy wondered if the hands had been specially chosen.
She decided to approach the hands that dealt with jewellery. She was, after all, wearing a ring that had once nestled on that very counter. Leaning under the lantern, she peered up at the shadowy face of someone blonde, who looked remarkably severe.
‘My name is Mrs Bone,’ said Amy, ‘and I’d like to see the manager.’
‘Why?’ asked the blonde person.
‘We’ve had a case of food poisoning.’
‘Food’s in the basement.’ The blonde’s expression didn’t change.
‘I know, but I want the manager,’ Amy insisted.
The blonde sighed, picked up a receiver discreetly covered in velvet and pressed a knob. ‘I’ve got a lady here who wants to see the manager,’ she said in a superior voice.
Amy couldn’t see the twelve cameras situated in the dark faraway ceiling. She didn’t hear them swivel smartly to focus on her. But, all at once, she found herself caught in a fierce beam of light that came from somewhere high above.
‘Oh!’ cried Amy. ‘What did I do?’
The assistant didn’t reply. She was still talking into her velvet-covered instrument.
Amy didn’t know that she was being watched on twelve different monitors by someone on the top floor. She was unaware that even in her shabby winter coat, without make-up or properly combed hair, she was still beautiful.
‘The owner wants to see you.’ The blonde assistant smacked her phone back on to the counter.
‘The owner . . .’ Amy faltered. ‘The owner, I didn’t know he lived here. I just wanted to talk to the manager.’
‘Top floor,’ snapped the assistant. ‘The lift’s over there.’ She pointed to a distant light.
‘Thank you.’ Amy began to wish she hadn’t come into Kingdom’s. What could anyone do, after all? They couldn’t break spells. Unless, of course, there was a sorcerer hidden somewhere on the top floor?
She reached the lift and pressed a button. The door slid open and she stepped into a small room with mirrored walls, a marble floor and a ceiling decorated with golden birds. Birds that looked remarkably real – apart from the gold paint.
Amy got out on the top floor. She was now standing almost ankle-deep in black fur – what sort of fur she couldn’t guess. A door opened to her right and a man walked out – the most handsome man Amy had ever seen. She patted her hair, twitched her coat and glanced at her scruffy shoes.
The man gave a small nod. ‘Mrs Bone?’ He had brown hair that, somehow, looked gold. His face was tanned and his eyes were a deep olive green.
‘Yes, that’s right. Mrs Bone,’ Amy said timidly.
The man bowed and, sweeping out an arm, indicated that she should enter his room.
Amy ploughed through the black fur and walked into a room carpeted, this time, in white fur.
‘Oh,’ she said, looking down, ‘how . . .’
‘Har . . . Hart Noble.’ The man took her hand and bent over it like a hungry animal. ‘The carpet is Arctic Bear.’
Amy gasped. ‘But I thought . . .’
‘Please sit down.’ He gently removed her coat.
Amy sat on the edge of a sofa that appeared to be covered in – could it be pony skin?
‘Tell me your troubles.’ Hart sat beside her. He was wearing a white silk shirt and a waistcoat that must have been sealskin.
While Amy told him about frozen Maisie and the suspect prawn, Hart took her hand and gazed into her eyes. She felt she was drowning in a deep green pool. At the end of her story he got up and fetched two glasses of champagne from an ivory table at the back of the room.
Amy sipped her drink and looked about her. The room was entirely walled in mirrors, and every piece of furniture appeared to have been made from an animal. Tusks, bones, skins, feathers and furs. If she had listened very carefully, she might have heard their cries. But Amy was falling under a spell.
A second glass of champagne was poured. When Amy looked at her reflection she saw someone she barely recognised: a beautiful woman with shining hair and sparkling eyes; even her old pink cardigan looked new.
Hart brought her a plate of tiny morsels covered in a spicy glaze. Amy devoured them, moaning with delight. When he told her that they were made of eagle meat she didn’t turn a hair.
He persuaded her to talk about her life, and Amy found herself remembering things she had forgotten for years. She didn’t notice the light fading from the windows, and only realised how long she had been talking when she found herself sitting in candlelight.
‘My goodness, it must be late.’ Amy got to her feet rather unsteadily.
Hart helped her on with her coat and escorted her to the lift. ‘Adieu,’ he said, elegantly blowing her a kiss.
Amy walked through the store in a daze. Outside the pavement sparkled with frost. ‘Beautiful,’ she said aloud. ‘I’m walking on stars.’
‘Stars?’ said an old lady, passing by. ‘It’s perishing cold, that’s what it is. You’ve been bewitched.’
When Amy got home she went straight up to her room and took off her diamond ring.
A stab of pain made Charlie wince.
‘What’s up? Eaten too fast?’ joked Fidelio.
They were sitting in the canteen after tea. Everyone else had left, except for Billy who was, at that very moment, furtively handing Rembrandt to Cook.
‘I think my mum would call it indigestion,’ said Charlie, rubbing his chest. But he wasn’t sure what it was. And he didn’t know why, when the pain had gone, he felt as if something precious had been lost.
Cook came round the counter and sat at their table.
‘What’s going on, Charlie?’ she asked. ‘Rumours are flying thick and fast. They say that some of the animals have come back, very particular animals in fact. Runner Bean has been mentioned, along with Lysander’s parrot, Nancy duck, Gabriel’s gerbils, et cetera. How come all the others are still lost?’
‘Blessed’s here,’ Charlie said evasively.
‘Course he is. I made sure of that. He’s scared stiff of something, though.’
‘I don’t think Charlie can tell us anything,’ said Fidelio. ‘Even I don’t know.’
Cook shook her head. ‘You haven’t gone and sworn a silly oa
th, have you, Charlie?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Charlie.
‘Well, take care, my dear. There’s trouble brewing. You’d better find an answer for the Bloors or they’ll force it out of you in a very unfriendly fashion.’ Cook returned to her kitchen with one hand over the large pocket in her apron. ‘All right, you’ll get some supper in a minute,’ she said to the pocket as she disappeared through the swing door.
The trouble that was brewing came to the boil after supper. Instead of dismissing the children when they had finished eating, Dr Bloor clapped his hands for silence and began to pace round the platform that held the staff table.
From the three long tables in the dining hall, three hundred children watched the headmaster in his black cape, his head down and hands clasped behind his back. He was a large man with a neat grey moustache and iron-grey hair, cut very short. Today his face was a pinky-red. When he came to rest, at last, he stared at the children on the Drama table, directly in front of him.
‘There cannot be one of you who is not aware of the catastrophe that has struck this city. Eh?’ He put a hand behind his ear. ‘What did you say?’
‘NO, sir,’ shouted the children in purple capes.
Dr Bloor walked to his right until he reached the centre of the platform. ‘And what do you say?’ he demanded of the children in Art.
‘NO, sir,’ shouted the children in green.
Dr Bloor took several more paces to his right. He was now standing in front of Charlie, who had been the last in and was forced to sit in one of the unlucky seats just below the staff table. Fidelio was sitting opposite him.
‘And what about you?’ Dr Bloor’s pinkish complexion darkened. ‘Have you heard about the city’s problems?’ He stared hard at Charlie.
Charlie thought the question was personal and asked, ‘D’you mean the animals, sir?’
‘Of course I mean the animals.’ Dr Bloor gave a little jump of fury. ‘Stupid boy.’
‘In that case, yes, sir,’ said Charlie.
The other children on the Music table repeated, ‘Yes, sir.’
The headmaster then said something very surprising. ‘It is, of course, a catastrophe when beloved pets disappear. It is especially distressing for the elderly whose pets have become their only companions. However,’ Dr Bloor walked across the platform, ‘it happens sometimes and it can’t be helped.’
Charlie was baffled. Did the headmaster know what had caused the animals to run away? He certainly didn’t seem suprised by their disappearance.
Dr Bloor suddenly swung round and walked back to stand in front of Charlie. ‘But it is unforgivable when someone finds a pet or two, belonging to their friends, and will tell no one where he found them.’ The headmaster stuck his chin out and stared at Charlie. ‘Where did you find the pets, Charlie Bone? The city councillors want to know. Where did you find the dog, the duck, the parrot, the rabbits and gerbils, and the snake that belongs to my grandfather?’
‘I just found them, sir . . . wandering around,’ said Charlie.
‘STAND UP, BOY!’
Charlie stood up.
‘I’ll repeat my question,’ said Dr Bloor. ‘Where did you find the animals?’
Charlie gritted his teeth. ‘I could bring back the snake, sir, if you like.’
‘We don’t want the snake. It’s a feeble thing now, by all accounts.’ Dr Bloor stamped his foot. ‘AND DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!’
‘No, sir.’ Charlie looked away from the headmaster’s angry red face. ‘Perhaps the animals will just wander back, sir, like the ones I found.’
‘Well, if they don’t, Charlie Bone,’ Dr Bloor leant closer to him, ‘if they don’t, there’s a room in the attics where a boy can be kept until he tells the truth.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Charlie in a choked voice.
‘DISMISS!’ roared the headmaster.
Three hundred children leapt to their feet and began to stack the dirty plates.
‘What are you going to do?’ Fidelio asked Charlie as they made their way out of the dining-hall.
‘Don’t know,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll have to think about it while I’m doing homework. That is, if I can think. It’s going to be nasty in there tonight.’
But it wasn’t as bad as Charlie had feared. Perhaps Joshua and Dorcas had enjoyed the headmaster’s scolding so much, they felt that Charlie had got all he deserved for the time being.
Charlie appeared to be working hard on his history project, but his thoughts were far away. How could he get all the animals back? And how could Maisie be unfrozen? When he thought of Maisie, lying so still in the bath, it made him shiver. And then the horrible feeling that he’d lost something precious gradually overwhelmed him.
After homework, Charlie trudged back to the dormitory in a daze. Someone jogged his elbow and he realised that Gabriel was walking beside him.
‘Thanks for getting my gerbils, Charlie,’ Gabriel said quietly. ‘I won’t ask where you found them.’
‘That’s OK.’ Charlie felt better when he saw Gabriel’s cheerful face. ‘I left them in the Pets’ Café. You can collect them at the weekend.’
‘Great. D’you think you’ll be able to get the others back?’
Charlie gave a huge sigh. ‘How can I, Gabe? Think about it. Almost every bird in the city, every rat, mouse, frog, toad, dog, cat – you name it – has run away. How can I get them all back without . . . without . . .’
‘Telling where they are,’ said Gabriel. ‘I see your problem.’
It didn’t bother Charlie that half the boys in his dormitory wouldn’t speak to him. He had too much on his mind. Long after lights out, he lay awake, and when he was quite sure that all the others were asleep he tiptoed across to the window and opened the curtains, just wide enough to let a slice of moonlight creep into the room. The light fell in a thin band right behind his bed.
Charlie climbed under the covers and waited. Would Naren find him? Would she send a message? Because he badly wanted to talk to her. He had almost given up hope when tiny black shadows began to tumble over the sill and into the room. Charlie watched them crawl across his bed and up on to the wall. At last they came to rest and he could read the words:
‘How are you, Charlie?’
‘I’m in trouble,’ Charlie whispered. ‘I’ve got to get the animals back, Naren, and soon, or they’ll lock me up.’
The little shadows quickly rearranged themselves, and Charlie was astonished to read,
‘They’re on their way. Tomorrow every lost creature will be back in the city.’
‘How?’ asked Charlie.
‘Three bright cats arrived. Magical cats. You should have seen them, Charlie. They sat in our yard and called in such loud, beautiful voices, all the animals gathered around and followed them out of our gate. What a sight! Birds in the air, creatures running, scuffling, leaping –’
A sudden shriek ripped through the dormitory. Charlie whispered ‘Goodbye’, and the words began to fade.
‘What was that?’ cried Rupe Small. ‘It was horrible.’
By now the whole room was awake.
‘The wall was covered in – in stuff – animals or something,’ said Rupe. ‘Charlie Bone was talking to it.’
‘Urgh!’ ‘What?’ ‘Yuk!’ ‘Trust Charlie Bone!’ came from one side of the dormitory.
‘Shut up and go to sleep,’ said Fidelio. ‘You were having a nightmare, Rupe Small.’
‘I WAS NOT!’
The door opened and Lucretia Yewbeam’s tall shadow fell across the room. She turned on the light. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.
Rupe pointed at Charlie. ‘There was stuff all over the wall, and he was talking to it.’
The matron’s eyes narrowed. ‘What was it, this stuff?’
‘Nothing, Matron,’ said Charlie.
‘I saw it,’ said Bragger Braine. ‘It disappeared when Charlie whispered to it.’
‘It was just flies,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t know where they came fro
m.’
‘Don’t lie,’ said his great-aunt. ‘There are no flies. It’s winter. They’re all dead.’
To this, Charlie could find no answer.
The matron walked over to Charlie’s bed and stared down at him. ‘It’s always you, isn’t it? Keeping other people awake, disturbing their sleep. I don’t know what you were doing and I don’t really care. It’s detention for you, Charlie Bone. You’ll spend half your weekend in school.’
‘But I can’t,’ Charlie protested. ‘My grandmother’s ill.’
‘Your grandmother is perfectly well,’ said the matron, walking away.
‘No, not your sister. Not Grandma Bone. I mean Maisie, my other grandmother.’
‘Oh, her,’ the matron said carelessly. ‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘She fr-c-caught a cold,’ stuttered Charlie.
‘A cold? Hardly a matter of life and death. Go to sleep.’ The matron turned out the light and closed the door.
As Charlie slid under the covers he heard something that made his heart leap. An owl hooted, and then another.
‘They are coming back,’ he thought, and at last he drifted off to sleep.
The hundred heads
If Charlie had looked out of his window, he would have seen an astonishing sight. The sky was crowded with birds. Their voices were silent but the air hummed with the sound of beating wings. Gradually, small groups began to swing away from the vast flock. They flew down and settled on walls, trees, fences and buildings. Once there, they tucked their heads under their wings and fell asleep. Soon, only the owls were left awake.
Down in the city, light sleepers found themselves drawn to their windows. They were rewarded by a sight they would never forget. Lines of solemn, silent creatures moved through the city. They were led by three cats whose coats were so bright that the air around them shone with fiery colours. As they made their way along the streets, the animals began to find their homes. They bounded through windows, they walked into gardens, kennels and stables, and the marvelling watchers heaved a sigh of relief. The city wasn’t dying after all.
