The Silver Boy

by Kristina Ohlsson

  ‘Indeed he did,’ Ella said. ‘Indeed he did.’

  She leaned across the table. With her dark eyes and grey hair she reminded Aladdin of his grandmother. She drew her green shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

  ‘He died, but they say he stayed here in Åhus as a ghost – to keep his father company when his wife went off and left him. And to help his father.’

  Aladdin reminded himself that he didn’t believe in ghosts. Not really. But there was something spellbinding about Ella’s story. Something that made him listen very carefully.

  ‘Help him with what?’ Billie wanted to know.

  ‘To find the missing silver.’

  ‘Why did he want to do that?’ Aladdin asked.

  ‘Does, not did,’ Ella corrected him. ‘The silver has never been found, and the Silver Boy is still searching. So that he can put things right.’

  Billie shuffled uncomfortably. ‘How do you know all this? How do you know that the Silver Boy exists, and that he’s looking for the silver?’

  ‘For the same reason as I knew quite a bit about what had happened in your house,’ Ella said. ‘I’ve lived here for a long time. I know people. People who have seen and heard things. Several of them have seen the Silver Boy, particularly at this time of year.’

  Aladdin sighed. ‘But if it wasn’t Orvar who took the silver, then who was it?’

  ‘That I don’t know,’ Ella admitted. ‘It wasn’t necessarily someone who disliked the silversmith; thieves are thieves, and they just steal things. Or it could have been the silversmith himself.’

  Aladdin looked up. ‘Do you believe that? Could it have been the silversmith?’

  Ella shrugged. ‘Who knows? It was the perfect way to ruin Orvar’s life. The whole thing could have been an act of revenge.’

  This wasn’t what Aladdin had been hoping to hear. They had to find out for sure who the thief was, otherwise the silver would never be found.

  Finding out that the Silver Boy had been searching for a hundred years without success wasn’t exactly encouraging, to say the least. How on earth were Aladdin and Billie going to be able to find it in just a few weeks?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘I can see you’re disappointed,’ Ella said. ‘Perhaps you’d like to look at some photographs instead?’

  She opened her handbag and took out a cardboard box. ‘I picked this up from the church archive on my way here. I hope I’ve brought everything.’

  She opened the lid and peered into the box. ‘Let’s see,’ she said. ‘Here’s an old picture of the silversmith’s workshop.’ She handed Aladdin a black-and-white photograph.

  ‘It’s so small!’ Billie said.

  ‘There are bigger ones too,’ Ella said, passing them another picture.

  This time they could see the silversmith more clearly. He was looking straight into the camera, a serious expression on his face.

  ‘That was taken three months before the workshop was destroyed,’ Ella said. ‘The church had just placed the order for new silverware, and took the opportunity to photograph the silversmith.’

  Aladdin thought he looked old. It was the same when he looked at black-and-white photographs of his grandparents; they looked old, even when they were young.

  ‘And this is Orvar. This picture was taken at his son’s funeral. The woman next to Orvar is his wife – she left him, as you know. On the right is their dog, and this is their younger son.’

  It was a terrible image. The woman looked as if she had been crying for weeks on end; even the dog looked sad. You couldn’t see the man properly; he was turning away from the camera.

  ‘Nice dog,’ Billie said.

  Aladdin thought so too. ‘He’s wearing a very fancy collar,’ he said, pointing.

  ‘That dog became Orvar’s closest friend,’ Ella sighed. ‘He had no one else after his wife left. This is a close-up of him – the dog, I mean.’

  ‘Why does the church have an old picture of a dog?’ Billie wanted to know.

  ‘Orvar used to lend him to the priest and his family as a guard dog from time to time. The children loved him.’

  The photograph showed only the dog’s head and his collar; this time he looked really happy.

  ‘I also managed to dig out a picture of the woman both Orvar and the silversmith wanted to marry,’ Ella said, producing yet another picture from the box.

  Aladdin could well understand why Orvar and the silversmith had clashed over this girl. She was very pretty – a bit like Billie, in fact.

  ‘Nice dress,’ Billie said.

  ‘Don’t you have any more pictures of Orvar?’ Aladdin asked. ‘I couldn’t really see what he looked like in the other one.’

  ‘I’m sure I have … Let’s see …’

  They were happy to wait; the café was warm and cosy. Aladdin started to wonder where he would hide a pile of stolen silver. He would probably bury it somewhere. Or sell it. After all, that was why people stole stuff, wasn’t it? To make money.

  Aladdin felt his heart sink. They would never find the silver.

  ‘Here we are,’ Ella said. ‘This is Orvar. I wanted to find a picture with his son – the Silver Boy – but there doesn’t seem to be one.’ She passed the photograph across.

  Billie and Aladdin stared at it. Neither of them said a word. Aladdin’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it must be showing through his jumper.

  ‘It can’t be true,’ Billie whispered.

  ‘What?’ Ella demanded. ‘What can’t be true?’

  But she didn’t get an answer. Aladdin couldn’t take his eyes off the photograph. This time Orvar was staring straight into the camera. And he looked exactly like someone Aladdin knew very well.

  Orvar was the spitting image of Mats.

  It was Billie who eventually explained to Ella why they were so excited; Aladdin was so stunned that he couldn’t say a word.

  ‘So there’s a man working in your restaurant who looks exactly like Orvar?’ Ella said slowly.

  ‘Yes,’ Aladdin managed eventually.

  He felt as if they had found out something really important; something that could explain how everything hung together – but right now he didn’t understand it.

  ‘In that case, Mats must be Orvar’s great-grandson. I’d heard there was still a relative of Orvar’s living in Åhus, but I had no idea who it was,’ Ella said.

  Aladdin was trying to work out how Mats could be related to Orvar.

  ‘Think about it,’ Ella said. ‘Orvar had two sons. One of them died – the Silver Boy. The other moved to Kristianstad with his mother. So that boy must be Mats’s grandfather.’

  Aladdin counted backwards in his head. Yes, that would work.

  ‘Perhaps it’s just a coincidence that they’re so alike,’ he said when he had calmed down a bit. He stared at the photograph again.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Billie said. ‘They could be the same person.’

  ‘We have to talk to Mats,’ Aladdin decided.

  ‘What for?’ Billie said. ‘What are you going to say?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. He might know something. About Orvar. If they were related.’

  Ella sighed. ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much. If he’s like his great-grandfather, he won’t be much of a one for talking. Orvar was well known around here for being a miserable soul.’

  Aladdin nodded. Mats had the same reputation.

  ‘Can we borrow this photograph?’ he said. ‘I’d like to have it with me when I speak to Mats.’

  He thought about the dream he’d had on the night they slept in the restaurant – about the boy in the short trousers who had come to ask for his help in finding the silver.

  Talk to Ella, the boy had said.

  And now they were sitting here doing exactly that. Talking to Ella. Aladdin didn’t understand how he could have dreamed something so strange that had actually come true.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Ella replied. ‘Give it back to the priest when you’ve fi
nished with it.’

  Aladdin tucked it away carefully in his pocket.

  ‘Are you sure you haven’t got a picture of the Silver Boy?’

  Ella shook her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t. Why do you ask? Do you think you’ve seen him?’ She sounded curious.

  Aladdin shuffled on his chair. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

  But he couldn’t help wondering. The boy in the short trousers, who came and went as he wished. Without leaving any footprints in the snow. Could he be—?

  Ella laughed delightedly. ‘So you say! I can see you’ve got something on your mind!’

  Aladdin swallowed hard and refused to meet her gaze.

  If it hadn’t been for that stupid dream, Aladdin would never have started to wonder. But he had to ask himself:

  Could the boy in the short trousers be the Silver Boy?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A little while later, Billie and Aladdin were standing outside the café. Ella had promised to leave the box of photographs with the priest, just in case they needed it again.

  Aladdin breathed in the cold air. It was already dark.

  ‘Do you think we’ll ever find the silver?’ Billie asked. She looked downhearted.

  ‘I think we will,’ Aladdin said quietly. ‘If we really try.’

  ‘But what about the Silver Boy?’ Billie sounded dubious. ‘Do you believe all that as well?’

  Aladdin didn’t know what to think. ‘The Silver Boy is kind of irrelevant,’ he said. ‘It’s the silver that’s important.’

  Billie nodded slowly.

  ‘I think we ought to speak to Mats,’ Aladdin said.

  ‘About the silver?’

  ‘About Orvar. If we feel brave enough, we could ask about the children in his cellar too.’

  Billie didn’t look too sure about that. ‘I don’t really—’ she began.

  ‘Or,’ Aladdin broke in, ‘we just go round to his house again, check if we can see the children. I know he’s at work right now.’

  Billie still didn’t seem convinced, but Aladdin was determined.

  ‘There’s something weird about all this,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think it’s strange that Mats looks just like Orvar? And I want to know why there are two kids in his cellar.’

  He set off along the street. ‘Come with me if you want,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Otherwise I’ll go on my own.’

  Billie sighed. ‘OK, I’ll come. But first we need to go to the bus stop.’

  Aladdin stopped. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I promised to meet Simona. She’ll be here in fifteen minutes.’

  The bus was early, so Simona was already waiting in the shelter. She couldn’t believe her ears when they told her what they were planning to do.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ she said. ‘You want to go back to Mats’s house?’

  She calmed down when Aladdin assured her that Mats would be at work for the next few hours. It was snowing again as they walked quickly away from the bus stop; big flakes that were almost like miniature snowballs drifted down onto their heads and shoulders. Aladdin couldn’t have cared less. He was bursting with energy.

  The snow formed little clouds around their feet as they half ran along the street. Once again Aladdin thought about the boy in the short trousers who had walked through the snow without leaving a single footprint.

  I must have imagined it, he told himself for the hundredth time. I was mistaken. The Silver Boy doesn’t exist. He isn’t real.

  Mats’s house looked deserted; there were no lights showing through the large windows facing the street.

  ‘It looks as if he’s moved out,’ Simona said. The others agreed. They hesitated on the drive; what should they do now? Should all three of them simply go charging in? What would they say if Mats came home, against all expectation?

  ‘We do a runner,’ Aladdin decided.

  ‘Again?’ Simona said.

  ‘Again.’

  As if on a given signal, the three of them walked towards the house.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Billie asked. ‘Round the back, where Simona saw the children through the cellar window?’

  ‘Let’s start at the front,’ Aladdin suggested.

  They hadn’t discussed it, but they stuck together. None of them wanted to be on their own. They moved towards the windows next to the front door; Aladdin had to stand on tiptoe in order to be able to see inside.

  ‘Why don’t we try the door?’ Simona said. ‘He might have forgotten to lock up.’

  ‘No chance,’ Billie said immediately.

  ‘Isn’t that illegal?’ Aladdin said tentatively. ‘Going into someone else’s house?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Simona said. ‘What if those children are locked in the cellar? We have to let them out!’

  But the very idea of sneaking into Mats’s house made Aladdin go cold all over, so they settled for looking through the windows instead.

  They couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. In the living room there were two sofas that Aladdin thought were particularly ugly, but Mats probably didn’t share his opinion. There was a table covered in papers and magazines, and the biggest TV Aladdin had ever seen.

  ‘He must love watching films,’ Simona said. ‘Or football.’

  They moved on. Through the next window they saw what seemed to be a bedroom, and through the next an office.

  In spite of the fact that Aladdin was sure Mats wouldn’t be coming home, he felt nervous. His mother would go mad if she found out they were creeping around Mats’s garden and peering through his windows.

  ‘This is a waste of time,’ Simona said.

  They crouched down and looked through the cellar windows, one by one.

  ‘I saw the children through the last window,’ Simona said quietly, as if she was afraid that someone might hear.

  Aladdin didn’t know why he thought the children were important; perhaps it was because the way Simona had described them made him think of the boy in the short trousers. But most of all he wanted to know why Mats had two children in his cellar.

  Eventually they reached the right window. Aladdin was so tense that he held his breath as he peeped in.

  ‘I can’t see a thing,’ Billie whispered. ‘It’s too dark.’

  Aladdin pressed his nose against the cold glass, but it was no good. He was just about to step back when something flashed inside.

  ‘Did you see that?’ he whispered. The girls nodded. They moved back so that they would be less visible; perhaps someone was sitting there in the darkness, staring out.

  Aladdin had to take another look.

  This time he could see a faint glow from one corner of the room. It was difficult to make out, but it seemed as if someone was holding a torch. The beam illuminated a number of items lying on the floor.

  A big ball.

  A skipping rope.

  An old teddy bear.

  Aladdin’s heart was pounding so hard it was threatening to burst out of his chest. The person holding the torch slowly got to his or her feet and moved towards the centre of the room.

  It was a child.

  A boy.

  A boy in short trousers and a thick woolly jumper.

  The boy glanced up at the window; Aladdin, Billie and Simona threw themselves backwards into the snow, afraid of being spotted.

  ‘Is that the same boy who’s been creeping around your place?’ Billie asked breathlessly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Aladdin said. ‘I only saw him for a second.’

  He edged back to the window and peeped in again.

  Could this be the boy he had seen so many times? He still wasn’t sure. They were very similar, but … No, he couldn’t be certain. He backed away from the window.

  ‘I didn’t see the girl this time,’ Simona said. ‘There was a girl there before.’

  Aladdin looked around. It was snowing heavily now. He must hurry home for tea.

  ‘Co
uld Mats have given the restaurant key to one of the children?’ Billie wondered as they left the garden.

  ‘So they could go in and help themselves to food, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Aladdin suddenly felt confused. He had thought it was the boy in the short trousers who was taking the food, but if that was the same boy he had just seen in the cellar, could he still be the thief?

  ‘You ought to check tonight,’ Simona said. ‘Wait for a little while after you’ve put out the bag of food; if you hide by the window, you ought to be able to see who comes and picks it up.’

  Aladdin thought that was a good idea. It would be useful to know who was collecting the food; he had a feeling that everything hung together somehow.

  The stolen food.

  The children in the cellar.

  The boy in the short trousers.

  And how did the missing silver fit in?

  ‘I think the children in the cellar are from the refugee boat,’ Billie said.

  Aladdin thought so too. But what were they doing with Mats?

  As they walked along the street, Aladdin glanced back over his shoulder. He stopped dead.

  The snow had almost covered their footprints.

  That must be what happened outside the church, he thought. The snow covered the boy’s footprints, and it happened so quickly that I didn’t realize.

  He set off again. It was a good job it was snowing so heavily; if Mats looked around the garden when he got home, there would be no sign that they had ever been there.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There was a lot to do in the restaurant that evening. After he had eaten, Aladdin sat down at his desk. He had homework to do, but he was itching with impatience. He wished everyone would go home so that they could close up and leave the food out on the steps. Then at last he would find out who came to pick it up.

  His mobile phone rang; he felt a warm glow when he saw who it was.

  ‘Hi there!’ his dad said. ‘How are you and Mum getting on?’

  Aladdin guessed that it must be expensive to call from Turkey, so he quickly started chatting about all kinds of things – about the missing silver, and about their second visit to the church. But he didn’t mention Ella, or the photograph of the man who looked exactly like Mats.