Midnight for Charlie Bone

by Jenny Nimmo

  The light in the lamp grew brighter, so bright that Charlie could hardly look at it, and then, with a little crack, the glass shattered and shining fragments fell to the ground.

  Charlie gave a low gasp. He rubbed his eyes. Perhaps it was just coincidence. His uncle standing there, while a power surge made the light in the lamp too hot for the glass.

  Paton moved on and Charlie followed, still hiding behind the trees. His uncle slowed down as he drew level with another lamppost, but this time, although the light became fierce and bright, Paton walked past before the glass could shatter. And then, without looking back, he said, "Why are you following me?"

  CHAPTER 3

  THE FLAME CATS

  Charlie froze. He couldn't believe his uncle had seen him. But then the question came again, "Charlie, why are you following me?" Charlie walked out from behind a tree. "How did you know?" he asked in a whisper.

  Paton turned to look at him. "I haven't got eyes in the back of my head, if that's what you're thinking."

  "No, I didn't think that," said Charlie. "But how?"

  "I saw you, dear boy as I turned the corner. To tell the truth I was half expecting it. I don't suppose you could sleep after that dreadful evening." Paton gave a grim smile.

  "Is that your talent, Uncle Paton?" Charlie asked. "Brightening the lights?"

  "Pathetic, isn't it? I ask you, what use is it? I wish you hadn't seen." Paton regarded his lean fingers. "Come on, let's get you home; I've done enough for tonight." He held Charlie's hand and they began to walk home. Charlie saw a new side to his uncle. Not many people could boost a light just by being there. In fact, as far as he knew, no one had ever done such a thing before. Lights played a big part in the nightlife of a city Uncle Paton could have a wild time downtown, where lights winked and glittered on every surface.

  "Have you ever -you know-done what you just did to lots of lights?" asked Charlie. "Like in a place where all the theaters and movies and clubs are?"

  For a moment Charlie thought that Paton wasn't going to reply Perhaps he shouldn't have asked. And then his uncle murmured, "Once, long ago, I did it for a girl I knew"

  "Wow! Was she impressed?"

  "She ran away,” said Paton sadly, "and never spoke to me again."

  "I see. Wouldn't it be safer if you went out in the daytime, Uncle Paton? I mean, there aren't as many lights on."

  "Huh! You must be joking," said his uncle. "Every shop window has a light in it. There are lights everywhere. And people can see me in the daylight. Besides, it's become a habit. I just don't like daylight and won't be caught in it."

  They had reached number nine, and Charlie hurried back to bed before anyone else in the house woke up. He fell asleep almost at once and dreamed that Uncle Paton had turned up the light in every star, until they all exploded, like fireworks.

  In the morning, Charlie woke up with a nasty sinking feeling. Whether he liked it or not, he would soon be going to Bloor's Academy Just thinking about it made him feel ill. He could only manage one slice of toast for breakfast. The eggs and bacon Maisie put in front of him were left untouched.

  "He's worried, aren't you, love?" clucked Maisie. "Those miserable Yewbeams. Why should you go to that nasty big school? We'll get you some chocolate at the shops. That'll cheer you up."

  Grandma Bone was not present. She always had breakfast in her room. And Paton only ate at night, as far as Charlie knew He glanced at his mother, who was miles away in some kind of reverie.

  "Will I have to wear a special uniform?" he asked. His mother looked up with a start. “A blue cape," she said. "The musicians wear blue. Sapphire, a lovely color."

  "But I'm not a musician," said Charlie.

  "Not strictly speaking," his mother agreed. "But they won't have a department for your talent, Charlie. You'll be put into music, like your father. Take your school recorder. I'm sure that will do."

  "Will it?" Charlie was doubtful. He'd never been good at music and only played his recorder when he was forced to. "When will I have to start?"

  "Within the month," his mother told him.

  "So soon?" Charlie was horrified. "In the middle of the semester?

  "I'm sorry Charlie," his mother said regretfully. “The Yewbeams think it would be best. They say there's not a moment to be lost, now that you... now that they are certain."

  "Poor little guy,” Maisie muttered.

  It had begun to rain again and Maisie pulled on a bright pink raincoat. Charlie's mother took an umbrella from the closet. She didn't like wearing raincoats.

  "We won't be long at the shops," she told Charlie. "Do you want me to take that photograph back?"

  Charlie had almost forgotten Benjamin's birthday card. For some reason he was reluctant to lose the photo just yet.

  "No," he said. "But could you buy a birthday card for Benjamin? I don't think I'll be using Runner Bean after all."

  When Maisie and his mother had gone, Charlie ran upstairs to get the orange envelope. He had just opened it and had pulled out the photo when the doorbell rang. No one answered it. Grandma Bone was out, apparently and Uncle Paton wouldn't even answer the telephone during the day.

  Still holding the photograph, Charlie went down to open the door. A very strange man stood on the step. Stranger still were the three cats, winding themselves around his legs.

  "Onimous and Flames," said the man. "Pest control." He produced a card from the inside pocket of a furry-looking coat.

  "Ominous?" asked Charlie.

  "Not at all," said the man. "Onimous. Quite different. Orvil. Orvil Onimous." He gave Charlie a big smile, revealing sharp, bright teeth. "I believe you have a problem here. Mice?" He gave a funny sort of leap and landed beside Charlie.

  "I don't know;? said Charlie. He'd been told never to let a stranger into the house. But this one was in already. “Did someone send for you?"

  "Something did. I can't tell you what it was, just yet. You might not believe me."

  "Really?" Charlie was intrigued.

  The cats had followed Mr. Onimous and were now prowling around the hall. They were most unusual-looking cats. The first was a deep copper color, the second a bright orange, and the third a fierce yellow The copper cat seemed to know Charlie. It stood on its hind legs and rattled the kitchen doorknob.

  "Have patience, Aries," said Mr. Onimous. "Will you never learn?" Aries had managed to turn the knob. The kitchen door swung open and he ran inside, followed by the other two cats.

  "Sorry about this," said Mr. Onimous. "He's an impulsive fellow, is Aries. Leo's a bit pushy too, but Sagittarius has lovely manners. Excuse me, I'd better keep an eye on them."

  Before Charlie had time to turn around, Mr. Onimous had slipped past him and hopped into the kitchen, calling, "Flames, don't let me down. Do it nicely."

  All three cats were now pacing before the pantry.

  Charlie remembered the rotting fruit, and before the cats could break through another door, he opened it and let them in.

  A fierce pouncing, leaping, and screaming began. The pantry was apparently full of mice. Not for long. The cats caught one mouse after another, depositing their bodies in a neat line along the wall. Charlie backed away He hadn't known there were any mice at all in the pantry Why hadn't Maisie or his mother noticed? Perhaps they had all arrived this morning, drawn by the smell of old fruit. Charlie was rather fond of mice and wished he didn't have to watch the row of little gray bodies grow longer and longer.

  When the line was fifteen mice long, the cats appeared to have finished the job. They sat down and vigorously washed their immaculate fur.

  "How about a cup of coffee?" asked,Mr. Onimous. "I feel quite exhausted." As far as Charlie could tell, Mr. Onimous had hardly lifted a finger, let alone done anything exhausting.

  The cats had done all the work. But Mr. Onimous was now sitting at the kitchen table, looking eagerly at the kettle, and Charlie didn't have the heart to disappoint him. He was still holding the photograph, so he put it down and went to
fill the kettle.

  “Ah," said Mr. Onimous. "Here we have it. This explains everything."

  "What does?" Charlie looked at the photograph that Mr. Onimous was now holding up to the light.

  Mr. Onimous pointed to the cat at the bottom of the photograph. "That's Aries," he said. "It was quite a few years ago, but he doesn't forget. He knew you'd spotted him. That's why he led me here."

  "Pardon?" Charlie felt weak. He sat down. “Are you saying that Aries," he pointed at the copper-colored cat, “Aries knew I'd seen his photo?"

  "It wasn't quite like that." Mr. Onimous scratched his furry-looking head. His pointed nails were in need of a good cut, Charlie noticed. Maisie would never have let anyone get away with nails as long as that. The kettle boiled and Charlie made Mr. Onimous his coffee, "What was it like, then?" he asked, putting the cup before his visitor.

  "Three sugars, please," said Mr. Onimous.

  Charlie impatiently tossed three spoonfuls of sugar into the coffee. Mr. Onimous beamed. He took a sip, beamed again, and then, leaning close to Charlie, he said, "He knew you were connected, Aries did. And so you are; you have the photograph. These cats aren't ordinary They know things. They chose me because I've got a special way with animals. They lead me here and there, trying to undo mischief, and I just follow, helping where I can. This case," his finger came down on the man holding the baby, "this is one of the worst. Aries has always been very angry about it. Time and again he's tried to put it right, but we needed you, Charlie."

  "Me?" asked Charlie.

  "You're one of the endowed, aren't you?" Mr. Onimous spoke softly as if it were a secret, not to be spoken out loud.

  "They say so," said Charlie. He couldn't help but look at the photograph, with Mr. Onimous' finger stuck so accusingly on the man's face. And as soon as he looked, he began to hear the baby crying. Aries ran over to him and, placing his paws on Charlie's knees, let forth an earsplitting yowl. His cry was immediately taken up by orange Leo and yellow Sagittarius. The noise was so painful, Charlie had to press his hands over his ears.

  "Hush!" commanded Mr. Onimous. "The boy's thinking." When the yowling had died down, Mr. Onimous said, "You see. You are connected, Charlie. Now tell me all about it."

  Although decidedly odd, Mr. Onimous looked kind and trustworthy and Charlie was badly in need of help. He told Mr. Onimous about the mix-up with the photographs, the voices, the horrible Yewbeam aunts and their assessment, and their decision to send him to Bloor's Academy. “And I really don't want to go there," finished Charlie. "I think I'd almost rather die."

  "But, Charlie boy that's where she is," said Mr. Onimous, "the lost baby At least, that's what the cats seem to think. And they're never wrong." He stood up. "Come on, cats, we've got to go."

  "You mean the baby in the photograph was lost?" asked Charlie. "How can you lose a baby?"

  "It's not for me to say,” said Mr. Onimous. "You take that photo where it belongs, and perhaps they'll tell you."

  "But I don't know where it belongs," said Charlie, beginning to panic. Mr. Onimous was slipping away without helping at all.

  "Use your head, Charlie. That's an enlargement, isn't it? Find the original and you'll find a name and address."

  "Will I?"

  "Without a doubt." Mr. Onimous smoothed the pile on his coat, turned up his collar, and made for the front door.

  Charlie stood up, uncertainly questions bubbling in his head. By the time he reached the open door, all that could be seen of his visitor was a small disappearing figure, followed by a flash of hot colors, like the bright tail of a comet. Charlie closed the door and ran upstairs. Seizing the orange envelope, he shook it fiercely and out fell a small photograph - the original of the enlargement downstairs. He turned it over and there, sure enough, was a name and an address, written in bold, flowing letters: Miss Julia Ingledew, Number Three Cathedral Close.

  Where was Cathedral Close, and how was he to get there? He would have to leave the house before Maisie and his mother got home. They would never agree to his roaming off on his own, to a place he didn't know And if he didn't act now, he might not get back in time for Benjamin's party But he'd have to leave a message, or his mother would worry As far as he could remember, Charlie had never been inside his uncle's room before. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung permanently on the door. Recently Charlie had begun to wonder what Paton did inside all day Sometimes a soft tapping could be heard. Usually there was silence.

  Today Charlie would have to ignore the sign.

  He knocked on the door, hesitantly at first, and then more vigorously.

  "What?" said an angry voice.

  "Uncle Paton, can I come in?" asked Charlie.

  "Why?" asked Paton.

  "Because I have to find somewhere, and I want you to explain to Mom." There was a deep sigh. Charlie didn't dare open the door until his uncle said coldly. “Come in, then, if you must."

  Charlie turned the doorknob and peered inside. He was surprised by what he saw His uncle's room was overflowing with paper. It hung from shelves, dripped from piles on the windowsill, covered Paton's desk, and lapped like a tide around his ankles. Where was the bed? Under a blanket of books, Charlie guessed. Books lined the walls, from floor to ceiling, they even climbed around the desk in teetering towers.

  "Well?" asked Paton, glancing up from a mound of paper.

  "Please can you tell me where Cathedral Close is?" Charlie asked nervously.

  "Where do you think? Beside the cathedral, of course." Paton was a different person in daylight - chilly and forbidding.

  "Oh," said Charlie, feeling foolish. "Well, I'm going there now But could you tell Mom? She'll want to know, and..."

  "Yes, yes," murmured Paton, and with a vague wave, he motioned Charlie away.

  "Thanks," said Charlie, closing the door as quietly as he could. He went to his room hurriedly pulled on his jacket, and tucked the pictures in their orange envelope, into his pocket. Then he left the house. From his bedroom window, Benjamin saw Charlie walking past with a determined expression.

  Benjamin opened his window and called, "Where are you going?" Charlie looked up. "To the cathedral," he said.

  "Can me and Runner Bean come?" asked Benjamin.

  "No," said Charlie. "I'm going to get your present, and it's got to be a surprise."

  Benjamin closed the window He wondered what sort of present Charlie could buy in a cathedral. A pen with the cathedral's name on it? Benjamin had plenty of pens.

  "Still, I don't really mind," he told Runner Bean. “As long as he comes to my party."

  Runner Bean thumped his tail on Benjamin's pillow He was lying where he wasn't supposed to, on Benjamin's bed. Luckily no one but Benjamin knew about it.

  The cathedral was in the old part of the city Here the streets were cobbled and narrow The shops were smaller, and in their softly lit windows, expensive clothes and jewelry lay to fold of silk and velvet. It seemed like a very private place, and Charlie felt almost as though he were trespassing.

  As the ancient cathedral began to loom above him, the shops gave way to a row of older houses. Number Three Cathedral Close, however, was a bookshop. Above the door a sign in olde worlde script, read INGLEDEW'S. The books displayed in the window were aged and dusty looking. Some were bound in leather, their leaves edged in gold. Charlie took a deep breath and went in. A bell tinkled as he stepped down into the shop, and a woman appeared through a curtained space behind the counter. She wasn't as old as Charlie expected, but about the same age as his mother. She had thick chestnut hair piled up on her head, and kind brown eyes.

  "Yes?" asked the woman. "Can I help you?"

  "I think so," said Charlie. Are you Julia Ingledew?"

  "Yes." She nodded.

  "I've come about a photograph," said Charlie. The woman's hand went to her mouth. "Goodness!" she said. "Have you"

  "I think so," said Charlie, handing over the orange envelope. The woman opened the envelope and the two photos fell onto her desk. "Oh, thank y
ou," she said. "I can't tell you how glad I am to have these."

  "Have you got mine?" asked Charlie. "My name's Charlie Bone."

  "Come through," said Miss Ingledew, motioning Charlie to follow her through the curtain.

  Charlie walked cautiously around the counter and through the curtain in the wall of books. He found himself in a room not unlike the shop. All books again, packed tight on shelves or laying in piles on every surface. It was a cozy room, for all that; it smelled of warm, rich words and very deep thoughts. A fire burned in a small iron grate and table lamps glowed through parchment-colored shades.

  "Here we are," said Julia Ingledew, and from a drawer she produced an orange envelope.

  Charlie took the envelope and opened it quickly.

  "Yes, it's Runner Bean," he's my friend's dog. I'm going to make a birthday card with it."

  “A lovely idea," said Miss Ingledew. "More personal. I always like personal. It shows one cares, doesn't it?"

  "Yes," said Charlie uncertainly.

  "Well, I'm very grateful to you, Charlie Bone," she said. "I feel you should have a reward of some sort. I haven't got much cash about, but I wonder..."

  "It doesn't matter," said Charlie, a little embarrassed, though he could have used a little money to buy Benjamin's present.

  "No, no, really I think you're just the person. In fact, I feel that these have been waiting just for you." She pointed to a corner and Charlie saw that his first impression of the room had been mistaken. It was not filled entirely with books. A table in one corner was piled high with boxes: wooden boxes, metal boxes, and big cardboard cartons.

  "What's in those?" asked Charlie.

  "My brother-in-law's effects," she said. “All that is left of him. He died last week."

  Charlie felt a lump rising in his throat. He said, "Urn..."

  "Oh, dear. No, not his ashes, Charlie," said Miss Ingledew. "They're his what shall I call them inventions. They only arrived yesterday He sent them by courier the day before he died. Goodness knows why he left them to me." She got one of the boxes, removed the lid, and took out a metal robotic-looking dog.