Lionboy: the Truth

by Zizou Corder

  Zizou Corder

  LIONBOY: THE TRUTH

  PUFFIN

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Postscript

  Acknowledgements

  Books by Zizou Corder

  LIONBOY

  LIONBOY: THE CHASE

  LIONBOY: THE TRUTH

  To Jack and Ralph Jeffries,

  top boys

  LIONBOY: THE TRUTH

  Praise for the Lionboy, Lionboy: The Chase and Lionboy: The Truth:

  ‘A new star has appeared in the children’s literary firmament’ – Independent

  ‘Simply absolutely brilliant’ – Disney’s Big Time

  ‘A cracking pace and excellent jokes’ – Guardian

  ‘Vivid and engaging’ – The Times

  ‘One of the best books of the year’ – Mail on Sunday

  ‘The itch to know what happens next is strong’ – Daily Telegraph

  ‘Stunning’ – Daily Express

  ‘Fabulous’ – Observer

  ‘Thrilling moments and dangerous scrapes … We give this read a big paws up!’ – Funday Times

  ‘An evocative, suspenseful tale of betrayal and courage’ – Sunday Times

  ‘Sparkling in wit and fantasy’ – TES

  Chapter One

  In a cool high room in a hot, hot country, a sleeping boy wriggled and twitched his nose. Charlie Ashanti, Lion-rescuer, shipwreck-survivor, Circus veteran, son of asthma-cure-inventing scientists and Catspeaker, had been asleep for three days – out of sheer relief. He had, in recent months, been chased across Europe, delivered six escaped circus Lions back to their African home, rescued a cloned prehistoric creature, assisted in a revolution, punched his enemy and watched him run away and, finally, found the kidnapped parents for whom he had been desperately searching. In other words, he was a very happy boy, just beginning to stir and stretch in his bed after a most well-deserved and refreshing rest.

  And as he stretched, he realized that his feet were far nearer the end of the bed. They used to sort of float about halfway down and not touch the end unless he wriggled down that far on purpose. He’d grown. He was delighted.

  ‘Mum!’ he called. ‘I can reach the end of my bed!’

  Charlie and his parents had reunited, after all their adventures, at a particularly beautiful hotel called the Riad el Amira, in the town of Essaouira on the Barbary Coast of Morocco. It was now about six in the morning, and Charlie had been woken by a light finger of low, early sunshine on his face.

  ‘Mum!’ he called again.

  From the other bed came the unmistakable snuffly sound of a mother who is fast asleep and not prepared to wake up for any lesser reason than the house being on fire, in which case she’ll see what she can do. Dad was snoring. The whole place, actually, was vibrating gently with the strength of it.

  ‘I need measuring!’ he called. ‘I’ve grown!’

  ‘Bnnffmmmmfffbbbrrr,’ said his mum.

  Typical, thought Charlie. We haven’t seen each other for months, we’ve been through all this stuff, and now they just want to sleep. Hmph. (Having been asleep, he didn’t know that they had been checking on him regularly and affectionately, longing for him to wake and tell them his adventures, but unable to be so mean as to wake him.)

  Charlie got up anyway, and went over to look at his parents asleep in bed. How sweet they looked, all snuggled up. Magdalen and Aneba, heads on the pillow. He smiled at them. They had been through a lot too.

  Plenty of time, he thought cheerfully, deciding not to wake them. Instead he got dressed – someone had laid out for him a new pair of britches and a T-shirt – and, as it was chilly, he slipped into the battered circus jacket that he’d been wearing ever since the night he and the Lions had run off. The gold braid was salt-tarnished and half the buttons were missing, and he liked it very much. He and it had been through stuff together.

  He went down to the hotel’s deserted courtyard. He was starving. Also he wanted to find Sergei, his mangy Allergenie cat friend, who, though he was not half as evil as he looked, looked so evil that he had been banned from the hotel. Charlie hadn’t had a chance to see him for – well, how long had he been asleep? Must be days. They would have to go to a café for breakfast. Charlie wanted to go to the one where the chameleon had spoken to him in Cat.

  Sergei was outside in the narrow alley, scratching himself on the corner of the building. He looked as if he’d been up all night. In a bar. With villains. His black fur was lank on his skinny body, his ear was wonky (though that was Charlie’s fault – he’d fixed it on badly in Venice, after Sergei had lost it in a fight) and his tail looked even balder than usual in the early morning sunlight.

  ‘Hey, Sergei!’ cried Charlie.

  ‘Monsieur awakes!’ Sergei responded in his cheerful yet sarcastic North of England voice. ‘How are yer then, Sleepin’ Beauty? Had yer kip? Feelin’ all right? How are your esteemed parents? All in one piece, are they? Thanks for takin’ the trouble to keep me up to date, as it were, on the developments within this illustrious establishment where-from I am banned. Not that I’ve been prowling pathetically around the joint yearning to partake of your bulletins. Obviously, having just traversed Europe by boat with you and your band of ex-performing felines, the last thing I need is to be told what’s goin’ on …’

  ‘Stop moaning, Sergei,’ said Charlie, giving him an affectionate ruffle on his skinny, scarred head. ‘Nothing’s been going on. I’ve been asleep, my parents are fine.’ Here he gave a big grin. His parents were fine! He was fine! The Lions were home, Sergei was here, Rafi Sadler had scarpered with his tail between his legs – as it were. Of course, Rafi didn’t actually have a tail. Yes, everything was fine!

  ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it,’ said Sergei, and he was because, although he affected a grumpy and sarcastic manner, Sergei was a loyal, true and brilliant cat. ‘What’s for breakfast then?’

  ‘Omelettes, pastries, mangoes, chocolate croissants, cakes, honey, pitta bread, argan oil, more mangoes, yoghurt …’ said Charlie hungrily.

  ‘Fish heads,’ said Sergei firmly. ‘I’ll just nip down the harbour and pick something up. See you at the caff in a minute.’

  Magdalen was still snuffling sleepily when she realized that Charlie had been talking to her.

  She rolled over and looked across to the other bed. ‘Charlie? Oh my god, where is he?’

  She hurtled out of bed, Aneba called downstairs, and in five minutes she was at the café, where Charlie was deep in conversation with a small green chameleon who sat in a creeper on the terrace, talking about why on earth a chameleon would be able to speak Cat. ‘I am very chameleon,’ the creature, whose name was Ninu, was saying. ‘Not just colour but everything!’

  ‘Charlie,’ said Magdalen, her red hair all mussed and her shirt on funny. She looked like she’d just got out of bed (which, of course, she had). She didn’t notice her son’s tiny companion.

  Charlie leapt up and flung his arms round her. ‘Hi, Mum!’ he said. His smile felt too big for his face. She wrapped her arms round him too and held very tight.

  ‘We must get back to the hotel,’ she said. ‘It’s not safe to be running around. Come on.’

  Charlie squinted up at her.
>
  ‘Enemies, Charlie?’ she said quietly, pulling him into the shadows. ‘Rafi? The Corporacy? I know we’ve seen them off for the moment, but they do all still exist. Come on …’

  Put that way, he saw what she meant. Rafi could still be here. Perhaps a café terrace on the main square was not the best place for Charlie to be, even if it was only just after sunrise.

  ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry.’

  He gave Ninu a longing look. The chameleon seemed to grin at him with his long, wide mouth. He had a frill round the back of his neck and googly eyes that went in different directions independently.

  ‘Come on,’ said Magdalen, taking Charlie’s arm and giving the waiter, who had come out to take Charlie’s order, an apologetic look. She knew what these small towns were like. Everybody noticed everything.

  ‘Charlie,’ she said as soon as they were safely on a side street, heading back for the hotel. ‘We’ve got to be careful. All of us.’

  At that moment scrofulent Sergei reappeared by Charlie’s shin. ‘All right, don’t wait for me then,’ he complained. ‘Ignore me for three days, come out to breakfast with me and then stand me up, why don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, do be quiet, Sergei,’ said Charlie affectionately.

  Magdalen looked down. Of course she knew Charlie talked to cats, but she never got used to it.

  ‘Um … hello, Sergei,’ said Magdalen. ‘Wow.’ She smiled at him. Sergei had found her and Aneba in the Corporacy Community to which they had been taken when they were kidnapped. He had led them out – rescued them. She wondered how to address him. Charlie had told her that cats could usually understand human, but even so …‘Wow,’ she said again.

  ‘Mraow,’ said Sergei, flicking his whiskers. It sounded very like ‘wow’. Magdalen smiled.

  Back at the hotel, Aneba folded Charlie in his huge arms. He felt his son’s strong heartbeat, and noticed his added height and bigger shoulders.

  ‘Hello, boy,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you up, but please could you manage to stick around and not immediately disappear again? Now that we have you back?’

  Breakfast was waiting for them in the courtyard.

  ‘Coffee,’ said Magdalen.

  ‘And explanations,’ said Aneba, giving his son a smile the size of a house.

  There was so much to tell. Charlie went first, all in a rush as his parents’ jaws dropped.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Rafi Sadler stole me, and so I escaped and I came after you because you’d disappeared, and I ended up on the Circe, this circus boat going to Paris, and I made friends with the Lions, who were being drugged by this evil Liontrainer guy called Maccomo, and I helped them to run away and we all got on a train to Venice, because that’s where I thought you were, and we met the King of Bulgaria and went to stay in his palazzo, only his guy Edward got a bit funny and gave us – me and the Lions – to the Doge, who’s like the King of Venice, so we had to run away again, and the gondoliers helped us because they were trying to get rid of the Doge anyway, and Sergei – you know Sergei – yeah, well, him – he turned up again from Paris, and Primo – the sabre-toothed extinct Lion, we met him in Paris too, he’d been cloned from a fossil – Edward gave him artificial wings so all the Venetians thought he was St Mark’s Lion and he’s still there, with Claudio, he’s the gondolier, and he got us the solarboat and we came here in it, only we were shipwrecked, and Maccomo and Rafi were after us, but I found out about the Allergenies and how you were kidnapped because of inventing the asthma cure …’

  Magdalen was staring in amazement. ‘You what?’ she said. ‘Slow down.’

  Aneba was more precise. ‘How did you find out about the Allergenies?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Charlie. ‘Worked it out – somehow some cats were much more allergenic than others, and making all the children asthmatic again, and the cats were all fighting between themselves because cats were being turned out of their homes, because people couldn’t afford the medicine for their kids – then it turned out Sergei was one … But what happened to you?’

  ‘Rafi tricked us,’ said Magdalen, looking a bit embarrassed. ‘We were carted off on the submarine, then on a truck. We were brought to … Do you know about the Corporacy, Charlie?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Charlie. ‘They’re the ones who tried to stop you using your asthma cure. They had Rafi kidnap you.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ said Aneba, amazed.

  ‘Cats told me,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Do the cats know?’ said Magdalen eagerly. ‘Do they know all about it?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Charlie, wondering how his parents could be so dim. ‘They know about the Allergenies being created, genetically modified, to make the kids asthmatic again, because there aren’t any cars any more to make them asthmatic, and they know about you and the cure – you’re heroes! They think you’re fantastic!’

  At this point, a beautiful red-haired woman appeared behind his mother.

  ‘Good morning, Mabel,’ said Aneba. ‘Did you sleep well? Look, Charlie’s awake at last!’

  At the sight of the woman, Charlie was more than awake. He was in shock.

  ‘What the –!’ cried Charlie. ‘What –! What’s she doing here?’

  ‘Cats told you?’ Mabel said. ‘Cats told you?’ Her eyes were gleaming and she’d fixed him with her stare.

  Charlie stared back. He was completely confused.

  ‘Charlie,’ said Magdalen. ‘This is your Aunt Mabel.’

  Charlie blinked. Aunt Mabel? She wasn’t an aunt – she was Mabel Stark, world-famous tigertrainer, and Maccomo’s kind-of girlfriend.

  ‘She’s my sister,’ said Magdalen. She watched Charlie carefully, noticing how he took the news.

  Charlie blinked again.

  ‘Can you really talk to them?’ Mabel was asking.

  ‘Do sit down, Mabel,’ said Magdalen. ‘He’s had a shock. Do you want some coffee?’

  Charlie was having a big problem adjusting to this development. Last time he’d seen this woman, she had been hanging out in a very friendly fashion with his two great enemies, Maccomo and Rafi. How come she was suddenly here – and his aunt? How come his mother was offering her coffee, and he was evidently to have breakfast with her? And he wished she’d stop staring at him like that. He shot his mother a pleading glance.

  ‘Mabel!’ said Magdalen. ‘Get a grip. Coffee? And give him a break.’

  The spell that seemed to have been holding Mabel snapped.

  ‘Oh – oh yes, please,’ she said. ‘Black. Thank you.’ She pulled a chair up to their table and sat between Magdalen and Aneba.

  ‘You can tell her,’ said Magdalen. ‘It’s all right.’

  Charlie didn’t usually tell people about his special gift. He had always known that it was not something to show off about. But if Mum said it was all right, and if Mabel was his aunt … even if she did use to be Maccomo’s girlfriend …

  ‘I can talk to them,’ he said.

  Mabel’s green eyes flashed a little wider. Maccomo had told her Charlie was a Catspeaker, but she had hardly dared to believe it.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Mabel said intently. ‘How did it come about?’

  Even as she said it, Charlie realized something. She was jealous – like Maccomo had been when he had realized. It made Charlie feel strong – grown-ups envying him. It also made him feel nervous. If they wanted what he had, might they try to get it off him?

  ‘I was scratched by a baby leopard when I was little, in Ghana,’ he said. ‘Some kind of freak genetic exchange happened, with his blood and mine. Don’t know why.’

  ‘Can you talk to tigers?’ asked Mabel greedily.

  Charlie suddenly tired of her questions. He wanted to say, ‘Back off!’ but he was too polite. Instead he burst out, ‘Well, how come you’re my aunt? You never used to be my aunt.’

  Though, come to think of it, she did look like Magdalen: red hair and ice-white skin. Charlie hadn’t noticed it before, when he’d seen her
at the Circus with Maccomo. He’d just thought she was beautiful, with her laugh, and her famous tiger act, and her white leather catsuit.

  ‘I –’ said Mabel, and then stopped. Magdalen was watching closely to see how she’d put it. ‘I – I ran away from home, Charlie, when I was very young, to join the Circus. I ran away and never told anyone where I’d gone, and the first time I saw anyone from my family was when Magdalen turned up on the Circe, looking for you.’

  Now it was Charlie’s moment for amazement.

  ‘Crike,’ he said. ‘Why did you do that? Was Grandma horrible? I always thought she was really nice – she was nice to me …’

  Mabel was making funny little movements with her mouth. She looked upset. Aneba touched her knee kindly. Magdalen was very still, looking at Mabel.

  Charlie, looking at the grown-ups, could not make sense of the feelings going on between them. To be honest, it rather embarrassed him that they were having feelings at all.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ he said, wanting to change the subject and put them out of their misery. And also wanting to know what had happened to his parents – apart from acquiring this unlikely aunt for him. ‘So, Dad, where did the Corporacy take you? I know it was near Vence, because someone got it wrong and sent me to Venice instead …’

  ‘We were in one of their Gated Communities,’ said Aneba, ‘and they were brainwashing us like they do everybody they get their hands on, telling us how marvellous everything was, and then your friend Sergei turned up. He saved us. He woke me up with a great scratch across my face, and led us through the smelliest rubbish chute I’ve ever experienced. Then we – um –’

  ‘You stole a car,’ said Charlie, who knew because Sergei had told him.

  ‘Well, er,’ said Aneba.

  ‘You stole a car,’ repeated Charlie.

  ‘Yes, well, we stole a car …’

  ‘Ha ha!’ laughed Charlie. ‘You stole a car!’

  ‘Yes, well, we went to Paris –’

  ‘In your stolen car,’ interrupted Charlie.

  ‘Shut up, Charlie,’ said Magdalen.