‘I really don’t want to hear this at the moment,’ his father said, and turned off the radio.
Aladdin leaned back against the headrest. He could have a little sleep in the car, then he would feel brighter when they arrived. As they turned onto the main road, he automatically glanced back at the tower. His stomach flipped over. A boy wearing a jacket and short trousers was sitting on the steps, staring at their car. Aladdin was about to tell his parents when he noticed something that made him change his mind.
The boy on the steps was crying.
It was dark when they got back from Kivik. His parents were really happy, chatting and laughing. Aladdin felt better too; it had been a good day.
The steps were empty when they got out of the car. Of course. The boy wouldn’t have hung around any longer than necessary. It was a good job Aladdin hadn’t said anything to his parents.
‘I’m hungry!’ his mother said as she ran up the stairs to the kitchen. ‘I’m going to make us a delicious supper!’
His father went down to the cellar, but reappeared after less than a minute. Aladdin had only just had time to take off his shoes.
‘Ha!’ his father said. ‘Come with me – I’ve got something to show you!’
He practically dragged Aladdin down the cellar steps.
‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,’ he said. He walked across the cellar to the outside wall. Half hidden behind an old bookcase was a door. Aladdin couldn’t remember ever having seen it before.
‘It’s a fire door,’ his father explained. ‘I’ve always thought it was jammed shut, because it’s so old and rusty. But look what happens when I try the handle.’
He pushed down on it, and the door opened easily.
‘Do you think the thief got in this way?’ Aladdin said.
‘Absolutely.’
‘But it doesn’t open very far, because the bookcase is in the way. He must be a very small thief, in that case!’
‘That’s true,’ his father said. ‘What do you think? Could the boy you’ve seen get in through there?’
Aladdin looked at the gap. Cold air poured in and made him shiver. He nodded slowly. ‘I think he could,’ he said quietly.
Why did he feel as if he was betraying the boy? Maybe he was just hungry …
‘Good,’ his father said. ‘In that case I’ll make sure this door is kept locked in future.’
He glanced at Aladdin. ‘Don’t worry about the boy,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave a bag of food out for him tonight, then we’ll see whether he takes it, or if that’s an end to all the nocturnal visits.’
That made Aladdin feel better. A bag of food sounded good. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see if anyone came and took it.
Chapter Nineteen
And they did. The food his father left on the steps disappeared. His mother decided it must have been the boy in the short trousers who had taken it. They agreed that they would carry on leaving food out for him – at least, as long as the refugees were still living on the boat in the harbour.
The newspapers were publishing more and more articles about the refugee boat. People were starting to get angry because it had been there for such a long time. Aladdin couldn’t understand it; after all, the refugees weren’t doing any harm. They were just sitting there on board, waiting. Waiting to be given permission to stay in Sweden. In school he had learned that the refugees were from Syria. Åsa, his teacher, explained that they had travelled right across Europe by lorry, then by boat across the Baltic Sea to Åhus. Had they come all this way just to be sent back home? Aladdin wondered.
‘At least that’s solved one of our problems,’ his father said on the third evening after he had put out the bag of food. He looked at Aladdin’s mother with a sorrowful expression.
Aladdin felt the same. It was good that the thief was no longer getting in, of course, but it wasn’t enough to save the restaurant. Aladdin realized that.
The priest rang him on Monday evening. The lady he and Billie were going to speak to was feeling better. Aladdin was relieved; he just had to find the silver, and perhaps the old lady would know where it was. The priest suggested they should meet at the Kringlan café the very next day. The lady would bring some photographs, as the priest had suggested. Aladdin thought that sounded good; Billie would be able to come too. He was just about to hang up when he thought of something.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘What was the lady’s name again? Was it Elsa?’
‘No, it’s not Elsa. But I might have said the wrong thing, because our cantor’s name is Elsa. The lady you’re going to meet is Ella.’
Aladdin almost dropped the phone. ‘Ella?’ he whispered.
‘That’s it. By the way, she was sure she’d met you and Billie before – could that be true?’
Aladdin swallowed. ‘I think it could,’ he said quietly.
It was just as the boy in the dream had said: Talk to Ella. She knows.
Just as Aladdin thought things were improving slightly, they got worse. Much worse.
He had brushed his teeth and was on his way to bed. Usually he could hear sounds from the restaurant, but this evening it was unusually quiet in the tower. His father was sitting on his bed waiting for him when he got back from the bathroom.
‘What’s up?’ Aladdin said in surprise. ‘Has something happened?’
His father smiled, although Aladdin could see that he was troubled. He didn’t answer Aladdin’s question; instead he said: ‘Did you have a good day at school? I haven’t seen you since you got home.’ As if it was Aladdin and not him who had been busy all afternoon and evening.
‘We were working on our projects. I wrote about the missing silver,’ he said.
His father nodded as if he was thinking about what Aladdin had just told him. ‘That sounds nice,’ he said eventually. His voice sounded really weird.
‘Has something happened?’ Aladdin asked again, sitting down on the bed.
His father stroked his chin, which was not a good sign. He usually did that when he was worried about something.
‘Yes,’ he said with a heavy sigh. ‘I’m afraid it has. Your grandfather has been taken ill, and I have to go to Turkey. Tonight. I’m flying from Copenhagen at midnight.’
Aladdin went cold all over. He loved his grandfather.
‘How bad is he?’
His father looked upset. ‘I’m afraid it’s serious.’
‘But he’s not even old!’
His father had to smile. ‘Your grandfather will be eighty-one in a few weeks. That’s quite old, especially as he’s had such a hard life.’
Aladdin knew that, of course, but he still felt sad. And angry, although he didn’t know who he was angry with.
‘When will you be back?’ he asked.
‘Next week, I hope. I’ve found someone to help your mum in the restaurant while I’m away.’
‘I want to come with you,’ Aladdin said.
‘That’s out of the question,’ his father said. ‘You have to go to school.’
‘But if Grandpa dies—’ Aladdin broke off; there was a huge lump in his throat.
‘If Grandpa gets worse and I think he’s going to die, then I promise to send for you,’ his father said, stroking Aladdin’s back.
‘If Grandma ends up on her own, she’ll have to come and live with us,’ Aladdin said.
He felt his father stiffen.
‘Grandma loves Turkey far too much to think of moving here,’ he said. ‘And besides, the rest of our family is there, not here. But it was a kind thought.’
There, not here. Such a huge difference.
His father cleared his throat. ‘There was something else I wanted to talk to you about.’
Aladdin curled up inside; he knew what was coming.
‘It’s something your mum and I have been discussing for a while,’ his father began. ‘To tell the truth, things aren’t going too well for us these days.’
It was as if Aladdin’s ears were no longer w
orking. He couldn’t hear a word his father was saying. There was a book on the floor. Aladdin couldn’t take his eyes off it. His father’s voice kept on talking, but Aladdin just kept on staring at the book. He didn’t want to hear what his father was saying, and he didn’t want to let on that he’d been eavesdropping.
In the end he couldn’t stand it any longer. His father was going on and on.
‘So the thing is, Mum and I have been wondering if it might be better to move back to Turkey,’ he said. ‘We could give it a try, see how we feel. I mean, Sweden will still be here if we change our minds.’
When Aladdin didn’t say anything, his father went on: ‘We wouldn’t go back to Ankara; we’d try one of the holiday resorts by the sea. You know how much the Swedes love their holidays in Turkey. There are real opportunities for us to open both a restaurant and a hotel there. It would be … an adventure. For the whole family.’
At last Aladdin managed to drag his gaze away from the book on the floor. ‘I don’t want an adventure,’ he said. ‘I want to stay here.’
Now it was his father’s turn to look away. ‘I can understand that,’ he said quietly. ‘But we need to be able to live a good life, Aladdin. All three of us. And here in Sweden …’ He made a weary gesture with his hand. ‘Things are changing. Åhus and the people who live here are changing. Look at all the fuss about the refugee boat, for example.’
Aladdin’s eyes widened. ‘But the refugee boat has nothing to do with us!’
‘That’s true in a way,’ his father said. ‘But a lot of people who live here are very angry, and think the people on the boat should go back where they came from, while others, like us, are putting out food for them.’
Aladdin sat up straight. ‘But in that case we definitely have to stay here,’ he said angrily. ‘What if everyone who’s prepared to share just packs up and leaves?’
His father laughed. ‘We’ll talk about this when I get back. I have to go and pack.’
He got up and left Aladdin alone in his room.
I’m never going to leave here, Aladdin thought. Never!
And he made himself a promise. He would fight with every ounce of his strength to stay in Åhus.
Chapter Twenty
The water tower felt empty without Dad. Aladdin’s mother and a family friend were running the restaurant, while Aladdin went off to school as usual. He couldn’t wait for the afternoon and the meeting with Ella. Time was running short. They had to find the silver, whatever it took. If they weren’t allowed to keep it, perhaps there would be a reward. The papers were bound to write about it too, which meant that more people would want to eat at the Turk in the Tower. More customers, more money.
The kitchen was filled with the aroma of cinnamon when Aladdin got home from school. His mother was stirring a big bowl of mince, looking a bit stressed, and Mats was washing up.
‘Has Dad called?’ Aladdin asked.
‘Yes, the journey went well. He sends his love.’
‘How’s Grandpa?’
‘Not too good, but not quite as bad as Grandma said.’
Aladdin didn’t really know what that meant. So Grandpa was ill, but not seriously ill?
He went and stood beside his mother. ‘Did Dad say anything else about moving to Turkey?’
His mother looked away. ‘No. Listen, sweetheart, I really haven’t got time to talk about this right now.’
She picked up the bowl of mince and went over to the cooker. Aladdin didn’t say anything. If they moved to Turkey, perhaps Mum and Dad would be able to work less. On days like this, he wished his parents had ordinary jobs.
‘Me and Billie are going to meet a lady who might know something about the missing silver,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back for supper.’
‘That’s nice,’ his mother said.
‘Mmm. If we find the silver, we might get a reward.’
‘Lovely.’
He looked at his mother, who was standing with her back to him. Lovely? Was she even listening to what he said?
‘I’ve bought a miniature pig,’ Aladdin said.
His mother didn’t react. ‘That sounds great,’ she said. ‘Shall we have a chat about it tomorrow?’
Aladdin didn’t answer; he left the kitchen and went down to his room. He really didn’t want a miniature pig, he just wanted everything to get back to normal.
Köpmannagatan was almost deserted when Billie and Aladdin made their way to the café. Sometimes Aladdin thought it would be nice if Åhus was bigger, so that all the shops weren’t on just one street.
He and Billie slithered along in the snow. It was a long time since they had seen Ella. Aladdin remembered only too well how they had felt when they cycled to her house through the pouring rain. Her cats had been afraid of the thunderstorm, and had hidden underneath the table. The whole thing had been very stressful.
When they reached the middle of Köpmannagatan, they suddenly heard sirens, and two police cars shot past them at full speed.
‘I wonder where they’re going,’ Billie said, gazing after the cars.
A man standing nearby heard her. ‘I think there’s a fire on board the refugee boat,’ he said.
Aladdin and Billie stopped dead.
‘So where are the fire engines?’ Aladdin wondered.
A second later they heard and saw the big red vehicles approaching. Aladdin covered his ears.
‘That’s terrible,’ Billie said as the fire engines disappeared in the direction of the harbour.
Aladdin was more curious than frightened. ‘Come on, let’s get down there!’ he shouted, breaking into a run.
‘We haven’t got time!’ Billie called out behind him.
‘Yes we have, if we get a move on!’
It didn’t take many minutes to run down to the harbour and the refugee boat.
The man on the pavement had been right. There was smoke rising from the boat, but they couldn’t see any flames. A few people were hanging around on the quayside to see what was going on.
‘What’s happened?’ Aladdin asked a girl.
‘Apparently some kind of heater went wrong and caught fire. I don’t think it’s serious; no one on board is hurt.’
A small group of people were huddled together a little further down the quayside; he assumed they were the refugees. They all looked upset as they stood there staring at the smoke. Where would they go if they couldn’t stay on the boat?
Aladdin noticed that some of them were children. He quickly checked to see if any were wearing short trousers, but they weren’t.
‘Let’s go,’ Billie said, tugging at his arm.
They headed back to Köpmannagatan. The snow made all the houses and buildings look the same. Aladdin wondered what it was like if you’d never seen snow.
The Kringlan café was busy. They were fifteen minutes late by the time they arrived.
‘I hope she’s still here,’ Aladdin said.
Ella was important. Without her they wouldn’t be able to find the silver, Aladdin was sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ella was indeed still there, waiting patiently at a corner table. When she caught sight of them, she broke into a smile.
‘How lovely to see you both again,’ she said.
Aladdin and Billie greeted her politely and each pulled out a chair to sit down.
‘Mind you don’t sit on Erland, my dear,’ Ella said to Aladdin.
He looked down at the chair and realized there was a cat carrier on it. Erland must be the cat.
‘Sorry!’ he said. ‘I didn’t see him.’
‘He’s my latest cat,’ Ella explained. ‘You could say he’s a little baby. That’s why I brought him along; he doesn’t like being on his own.’
‘He’s gorgeous,’ Billie said, peering into the carrier.
‘You’re covered in snow,’ Ella said, nodding at their jackets. ‘How about a hot chocolate?’
Ella went over to the counter, and Billie leaned over to Aladdin.
‘We n
eed to ask her about the Silver Boy,’ she said. ‘Even though the priest told us not to take any notice of what she said.’
‘Of course,’ Aladdin agreed. ‘I hope she’s brought lots of photographs to show us.’
Full of anticipation, he looked at the large handbag Ella had left on her chair. To be honest, he had no idea what he was hoping to learn from Ella. If only she could give them a clue about the missing silver and who had taken it.
Ella returned with two cups of steaming hot chocolate. ‘You two really know how to pick a house,’ she laughed. ‘First of all Billie moved into the haunted house on Sparrisvägen, and now Aladdin’s moved into the silversmith’s house. Marvellous!’
‘I don’t live in a haunted house,’ Billie said.
‘No? So the ceiling light in the living room has stopped swinging to and fro?’
Billie didn’t answer; she took a sip of her hot chocolate instead.
‘What do you mean, I’ve moved into the silversmith’s house?’ Aladdin said. ‘The water tower was built after the workshop was destroyed.’
Ella stirred her coffee. ‘I don’t think that will matter to the Silver Boy,’ she said. ‘The water tower is exactly where the workshop used to be, so that’s where he’ll be looking.’
‘The Silver Boy,’ Aladdin said as the colour drained from his face.
‘Exactly.’ Ella lowered her voice. ‘The Silver Boy. He’s about your age. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tries to contact you, because he needs your help.’
‘With what?’
‘He needs you to help him find the missing silver, of course.’
This was a good start. They had only just sat down, and already Ella had mentioned both the Silver Boy and the silver.
There was a rustling sound from the cat carrier as Erland stretched.
‘I don’t understand who the Silver Boy is,’ Aladdin said slowly.
‘He’s Orvar’s son.’
Aladdin burned his mouth on the hot chocolate and put down his cup. ‘Orvar’s son? But I thought he died in an accident,’ he said, thoroughly confused.
The Silver Boy Page 7