Charlie Bone and the Invisible Boy

by Jenny Nimmo

  “But maybe he won’t stay alive,” said Charlie fearfully.

  “We must live in hope, dear,” said Mrs. Onimous, who looked anything but hopeful.

  On his way home, Charlie called in at the bookshop. Emma was on duty at the counter, while her aunt wrapped books in the back room.

  “Tell Miss Ingledew that my uncle’s home,” said Charlie. “But he’s not very well.”

  “What’s the matter with him?” asked Emma.

  “It’s hard to explain. But it’s scary, Em. I’m afraid he might not get better — ever.”

  “Why?” asked Emma with a worried frown. “How did it happen? Is it a mystery bug or something?”

  “Can’t really say. Got to go now, Em. There was a bit of trouble before I left.” Charlie hurried off, leaving Emma looking baffled.

  There was a not-quite-peaceful silence inside number nine.

  Billy had obviously been taken back to Bloor’s and there was no sign of Grandma Bone. It was lunchtime so Charlie began to help himself from the fridge: cheese, cucumber, salami, and peanut butter all sandwiched between two thick slices of bread. He was about to sit at the table when he remembered his uncle. He made another identical sandwich and put them both on a tray with a glass of water.

  Paton called, “Come in! Come in!” immediately after Charlie knocked.

  “Praise be, refreshments,” said Uncle Paton when he saw the tray. He heaved himself up on his pillows and patted the bed.

  Charlie put the tray in front of his uncle. He was glad to see that Paton had managed to change into his pajamas. Hopefully, this meant that he’d had a bath, though there was still a funny smell in the room.

  “Scorched socks!” said Paton, who had noticed Charlie’s discreet sniff.

  “Uncle, what happened?” asked Charlie. “Can you talk about it now?”

  Paton took a long drink of water, cleared his throat rather loudly, and said, “Ahem. You’ll have to know something of our past, Charlie. It all began when I was seven. You’ll remember I discovered my gift on my seventh birthday.”

  Charlie nodded. “The lights exploded and all the other children went home, and you ate all their ice cream and were sick.”

  “Good memory,” Paton remarked. “Well, shortly after this we all went to visit my great-aunt, Yolanda, at Yewbeam Castle.”

  Charlie waited breathlessly while his uncle massaged his throat.

  “My mother was French,” Paton went on. “A very beautiful woman. She’d been an actress, but when she married my father she found that she loved children. So she had five and gave up the stage. She was very proud of my gift. There’d been a few ‘unusual talents’ in her own family.

  “She told Yolanda about me on our very first night there. We were having dinner in a long, dark room on the ground floor. There were eight of us, and Lyell, your father, who was two. His own father, a pilot, had already been killed — crashed his plane in the desert. Well, my mother said, ‘Guess what, Aunt Yolanda, Paton is endowed.’ I can see Yolanda’s face now. The way her eyes lit up.” Paton bit into his sandwich.

  “And then my sister, Venetia, who was twelve, said, ‘Like me. And like Eustacia, she’s a clairvoyant. But Lucretia and Grizelda aren’t endowed, poor things.’ The two eldest were very put out, as you can imagine, but then Grizelda said, ‘Who knows? Baby Lyell may have a gift one day.’

  “Yolanda gazed around at us. She looked so hungry. A real predator.” Paton paused and took another bite of his sandwich. “This is uncommonly good, Charlie,” he said. “What’s in it?”

  “I’ve forgotten. Please go on, Uncle Paton,” begged Charlie.

  His uncle looked suddenly very grave. “Yewbeam Castle is a terrible place. It’s built of a rock that seems to attract the night. It’s a sooty gray, inside and out. And they still haven’t put in electricity. The stairs are narrow, steep, and dark. On our second day my mother fell and broke her neck.” Paton gave a frown of pain and touched his throat again.

  “We were all in the garden, if you can call it that. It’s just a field of wild grass that grows right up to the castle walls. I heard my mother cry out, but my father reached her first — I was just two steps behind him. She was lying at the bottom of a treacherous stairway leading out of the hall. I heard her say, ‘Don’t let her …’ And then she was gone.” Paton pulled a handkerchief from under his pillow and vigorously blew his nose.

  “Yolanda pushed her, didn’t she?” Charlie said grimly.

  Paton gave a huge sigh. “I’m sure she did. But who could prove it? Besides, my sisters were already under her spell. They wouldn’t hear a word against her. In fact, they wouldn’t even leave the castle after my mother died. Yolanda tried to keep me, too. She begged and wheedled, she screamed and threw things. She turned into a wild dog, a bat, a serpent — she’s a shape-shifter, you know. She tried to hypnotize my father, but he escaped with me and he never let me out of his sight until he was sure I could take care of myself.”

  “You went to Yewbeam Castle to stop Yolanda from coming here, didn’t you?” said Charlie.

  Paton nodded. “I heard my sisters plotting the night before I left. So I decided to pay Yolanda a visit. But I was too late. She wasn’t there —”

  “Uncle Paton,” Charlie interrupted, “she’s here.”

  “What?” Paton sagged against the pillows. “I was afraid of that. Is she …? What shape has she taken?”

  “She’s a girl, quite a pretty one. But her eyes keep changing, as if they can’t remember what color they’re supposed to be. I knew right away there was something wrong. She’s living with the aunts in Darkly Wynd. But why has she come here, Uncle, after all this time?”

  “I only caught snatches of my sisters’ conversation,” said Paton. “I was in the kitchen having a midnight snack when they arrived. I don’t care for their chatter, so I hid in the pantry. Very undignified, but luckily they only had a cup of tea. They discussed Yolanda and then moved off, into the living room. From what I could gather, Yolanda was called in to help the old man — Ezekiel — in some nefarious plan to disappear.”

  Charlie gasped. “The boa!” he exclaimed. “Ezekiel’s got a blue boa that can make things invisible. He’s done it to a boy named Ollie Sparks.”

  “Ah, well, it seems it’s just a one-way ticket at the moment. You can go, but you can’t come back, if you take my meaning. Ezekiel wants it both ways, naturally. But as he’s an incompetent magician, he can’t do it.”

  “So he’s practicing on Ollie,” Charlie murmured. “He’s kept in the attics.”

  “Dear lord, whatever next?” sighed Paton.

  Charlie was still desperate to know about his uncle’s visit to the castle. “Uncle, what happened?” he said gently. “Why have you lost your power?”

  Paton closed his eyes. His face had a closed look, shuttered and blank. It seemed that he couldn’t speak of his ordeal just yet. It had been too terrible.

  The doorbell rang.

  Grandma Bone must have been in the house all the time, because the front door opened and Charlie could hear her voice.

  “You’re not welcome here. Please leave!”

  Charlie opened the window and looked down at the steps. “It’s Miss Ingledew,” he told his uncle. “And Emma. Hi, Emma!” he called.

  “Julia?” Patron’s eyes flew open. “She wants to see me then!”

  “Hi!” said Emma, waving a bunch of roses at Charlie.

  Miss Ingledew looked up. “Hello, Charlie, I’ve come to —”

  She was cut short by Grandma Bone, who stepped out of the house and growled, “I asked you to leave.”

  “But I’ve come to see Mr. Yewbeam. I heard he wasn’t well.” Miss Ingledew held up a yellow paper bag. “We’ve brought flowers and bananas, they’re so good for …”

  “We’ve got our own bananas!” barked Grandma Bone, advancing on her unwelcome visitors. “Mr. Yewbeam is far too ill to have company.”

  “He’s not!” cried Charlie.

&nb
sp; “Be quiet!” Grandma Bone glared up at Charlie, while Emma and Miss Ingledew were forced to step down on to the pavement.

  “Really, Mrs. Bone,” said Julia. “I’m sure it wouldn’t do Paton any harm to see me. I’m concerned about him. Don’t you understand?”

  Paton’s face turned from white to pink, then back to white again as he struggled out of bed. “Julia,” he said breathlessly. “Don’t let her go, Charlie!”

  “Stop stalking my brother.” Grandma Bone followed Miss Ingledew down the steps. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “I am not stalking him. I have never stalked anyone in my life.” Clearly upset by Grandma Bone’s insinuation, Miss Ingledew threw back her head of magnificent chestnut hair and marched away up the street. Emma waved bleakly at Charlie and ran after her.

  “Has she gone?” croaked Paton.

  “’Fraid so, Uncle,” said Charlie. “I think Grandma Bone offended her.”

  Paton put his head in his hands. “I’m lost,” he moaned. “I might as well be dead.”

  “Don’t say that!” Charlie couldn’t bear to see his normally vigorous uncle in such a pitiful state. “I’ll try and get her back,” he said.

  Grandma Bone met Charlie in the hall. “Where do you think you’re going?” she said.

  “Out,” said Charlie.

  “Oh, no, you’re not. You’ve got work to do. Studying, I believe. You’ve got tests coming up on Monday. Lots of them. Get upstairs and take out your books. Right now!”

  Charlie almost exploded with indignation. “How could you do that to Uncle Paton?” he demanded. “He really wanted to see Miss Ingledew.”

  “That woman’s no good for him,” said Grandma Bone. “Now if you don’t get to work this minute, I’ll tell them to give you detention next Saturday. In fact, after your disgraceful behavior this morning, I’ll be surprised if you don’t get it, anyway.”

  “I … You’re just a …” Charlie struggled to contain himself and then rushed to his room before he said something so rude his grandmother would make sure he had detention for years to come.

  For several hours Charlie wrestled with history dates, geographical locations, English grammar, and French verbs. He began to get a headache and found he was forgetting things more than remembering them. Occasionally, he looked out of his window, longing to see Benjamin and Runner Bean racing across the street. But no friendly face appeared, and nothing interesting occurred to break the monotony of Charlie’s awful afternoon … until he noticed the wand.

  It was lying under his bed, caught in a thin beam of sunlight. Charlie picked it up. The wand felt warm and silky. It was very comforting to hold, almost like tasting something exceptionally delicious or lying on a bed of feathers.

  Charlie had an idea. Skarpo had stolen the wand from a Welsh wizard so, reaching for the Welsh dictionary his uncle had given him, Charlie looked for the words “help me.” He found “helpu fi” and remembered the “u” was pronounced “i,” and the “f” like a “v.”

  Charlie sat at his table and, holding the wand in his lap, he stared at a column of French verbs and their English equivalents. “Helpi vee,” he said. “Helpi vee! Helpi vee!”

  For a few moments nothing happened, and then Charlie had the strangest sensation. It was as if the word “look” was whispered into his brain. He tightened his grip on the wand and looked at the words in front of him. A few minutes later he tested himself. Miraculously, he had learned every verb and its meaning.

  Charlie was so excited he dashed into his uncle’s room without knocking.

  Paton’s eyes were closed, but his face was distorted by a terrible frown. Charlie had forgotten Miss Ingledew’s unfortunate visit.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Uncle,” Charlie said in a quietly urgent voice, “but something amazing has happened.”

  “What?” Paton said wearily.

  “You know you took the wand when you went to Yewbeam Castle and it got all burned by something. Well, it got better, somehow. It’s as good as new, and I just tried using it to memorize my French, and — it’s amazing — it worked!”

  Paton’s eyes opened. He looked at Charlie with interest, and then his gaze was drawn to the wand. “Curious,” he murmured. “Very curious.”

  Charlie said, “I know this sounds silly, but do you think the wand might really be mine?”

  “How could that be possible, dear boy? You got it from an ancient painting.”

  “Yes, but …” Charlie was reluctant to tell his uncle that Skarpo had refused to take the wand back. Paton had warned him, more than once, not to go into the painting again.

  Paton was now staring at Charlie’s feet, and Charlie had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what his uncle was looking at. He had forgotten to shut the door and something had crept into the room. Yes, there it was, right beside his left foot. It began to squeak.

  “That is a very singular mouse,” Paton observed. “I’ve always known we had mice in the house, but that one looks abnormally old. I can’t say why.”

  “Actually, it is,” Charlie confessed.

  Paton eyed his great-nephew suspiciously. “Explain!”

  Charlie explained, as best he could, how he had taken a step, just a fraction of a step really, into the painting of Skarpo. “I did it for you, Uncle,” he said. “I thought he might have something to cure you. That’s when he said the wand belonged to me. He wanted to meet you, but I wouldn’t let him. As you see, I got out all right, but the mouse that was in his pocket came with me.”

  “What!” Paton’s head dropped back onto the pillows. “Then the sorcerer’s out, too!”

  “Maybe not,” said Charlie hopefully. “I mean he’d have done some damage by now, wouldn’t he?”

  “If the mouse is out, then he is out, you stupid boy,” Paton snapped.

  “But he’s still in the picture.”

  “That’s just his image, Charlie. The essence of the man, the living, breathing being, with all its mischief, magic, and mayhem is OUT!”

  After a moment of humble silence, Charlie said, “What should I do with the mouse, then?”

  The mouse ran under the bed.

  “It hardly matters,” Paton muttered. “What have you done, Charlie? I thought that life couldn’t get worse, but now, here I am, done for, and that person is on the loose.” He closed his eyes.

  Charlie would have liked to bring up the subject of the wand again, but clearly his uncle would rather he left the room.

  “Sorry,” Charlie murmured. He tiptoed out and closed the door on his uncle and, presumably, the mouse.

  Amy Bone had just come back from work and Charlie could hear her setting the table for dinner. He ran down to the kitchen.

  “Where’s Billy?” asked Mrs. Bone.

  Charlie told her about Ezekiel’s visit.

  “That poor boy,” said his mother. “He must be so lonely. Something should be done about it. I’m sure someone would adopt him, he seems like such a nice little fellow.”

  “The Bloors will never let him go,” said Charlie. “They like to own people.”

  “That they do,” his mother said quietly. “Take your uncle some tea, will you, Charlie?”

  “Um … I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Charlie.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Him and me … well, I think he’s a bit angry with me.”

  One of the many good things about Amy Bone, from Charlie’s point of view, was that she never reproached him for any quarrels he might have had with other members of the family.

  “Ah well,” she sighed. “I’ll do it then.” She put some tea and cookies on a tray and took it upstairs. In a few minutes she came back looking very worried.

  “I’m really concerned about your uncle,” she told Charlie. “He’s just lying there, looking gray and ill, and so melancholy. Whatever is the matter with him?”

  “He went to Yewbeam Castle,” Charlie said.

  His mother gasped. “Where that awful Yolanda l
ives? Has she done this to Paton?”

  “No, Mom. It was something else. He won’t say what. Yolanda’s here. She’s staying with the aunts, only she isn’t old. She looks my age. She came here once when you were out. Her name’s Belle.”

  Mrs. Bone clapped a hand over her forehead. “Stay out of her way, Charlie. She tried to keep your father up there, you know. When he was young. Luckily, it turned out that Lyell wasn’t endowed, so she lost interest in him.”

  “Maybe not so lucky,” said Charlie. “If Dad had been endowed, he might have been able to save himself.”

  “Who knows?” Mrs. Bone looked thoughtful. “I wish you weren’t part of that awful family.”

  “Well, I am,” said Charlie. “And I don’t care. If they try to mess with me, they’ll regret it.”

  His mother gave him an encouraging smile.

  On Sunday, Charlie decided to visit the Pets’ Café. With the wand’s help he had managed to finish all his studying.

  “Runner Bean’s waiting for you!” said Norton, the bouncer, as Charlie stepped into the café. “Going to take him for a run, then?”

  Charlie felt guilty. He’d almost forgotten about Runner Bean. “The park’s a bit far away,” he said.

  “Take him to the park,” said Norton. “He’s really missed you, he has.”

  Charlie was about to go around the counter when he noticed Lysander and Olivia sitting at a table in the corner. As soon as she saw Charlie, Olivia jumped out of her seat and waved frantically at him. She looked surprisingly normal. Her hair was mouse-brown and her face free of any makeup or decoration.

  Charlie made his way over to their table. It took him some time because a gang of lop-eared rabbits kept bouncing around his feet.

  “No warpaint today, then?” he said, leaping over Olivia’s white rabbit and grabbing a chair.

  “I’m preparing my face for the end-of-semester play,” said Olivia. “I thought if I looked normal for a while, my transformation would be all the more dramatic.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Charlie. “I didn’t think any of you were coming here today.”