Charlie Bone and the Time Twister. Jenny Nimmo
Читать онлайн книгу.
had been sent to stay with their mother’s brother, Sir Gideon Bloor.
Sir Gideon wasn’t the sort of person you would choose to spend your holidays with. There was nothing remotely fatherly about him. He was the headmaster of an ancient school and he never let anyone forget it.
Bloor’s Academy had been in Sir Gideon’s family for hundreds of years. It was a school for children gifted in music, drama and art. Bloor’s also took children who were endowed in other, very strange, ways. Just thinking about them made Henry shudder.
He had reached his cousin Zeke’s room. Zeke was Sir Gideon’s only child and a more unpleasant cousin Henry couldn’t imagine. Zeke was one of the endowed children, but Henry guessed that Zeke’s gift was probably nasty.
Henry opened the door and peeped inside. A row of glass jars stood on the windowsill. Inside the jars, strange things writhed gently in a clear liquid. Henry was sure it couldn’t be water. The things were pale and shapeless. One was blue.
‘What do you think you are doing?’
Aunt Gudrun came marching down the passage, her long black skirt drowning her footfalls with a sinister hiss. She was a very tall woman with a great amount of yellow hair piled into a bun on the back of her head. A real Viking of a person (she was, in fact, Norwegian), with an enormous chest and lungs to match.
Henry said, ‘Erm . . .’
‘Erm is not good enough, Henry Yewbeam. You were spying in my Zeke’s room, were you not?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Henry.
‘You shouldn’t be lurking in passages, boy. Come down to the sitting room.’ Lady Bloor beckoned with her little finger, and Henry had no choice but to follow her.
His aunt led him back past the mysterious locked doors that, only a few moments ago, Henry had been vainly trying to open. He was an inquisitive boy and easily bored. A huge sigh escaped him as he trundled down a creaking staircase to the first floor.
The Bloor family lived in the west wing of the academy, but they only occupied the rooms above the ground floor, which was almost entirely taken up by a draughty grand hall, a chapel and several assembly halls and classrooms. Henry had already explored some of these rooms and found them very disappointing. All they contained were rows of battered desks and chairs, and shelves of dusty-looking books.
‘Here we are!’ Lady Bloor opened a door and thrust Henry into the room beyond.
A small boy, who had been kneeling in the window seat, leapt down and rushed across to Henry. ‘Where’ve you been?’ he cried.
‘Just exploring,’ said Henry.
‘I thought you’d gone home.’
‘Home is miles and miles away, Jamie.’ Henry plonked himself in a deep leather chair beside the fire. The logs in the big iron grate smouldered with strange images. When Henry half-closed his eyes he could almost see the cosy sitting-room at home. He sighed again.
Aunt Gudrun frowned at Henry and said, ‘Behave yourselves, boys.’ She went out closing the door behind her.
When she had gone James came and sat on the arm of Henry’s chair. ‘Zeke’s been doing funny things,’ he whispered.
Henry hadn’t noticed Zeke, but now he became aware of his strange cousin, enclosed in a gloomy silence at the other end of the room. He was sitting at a table, absorbed in something laid out before him. His pale, bony face was frozen in an attitude of intense concentration. Not a muscle twitched, not a breath escaped him.
‘I was scared,’ James said quietly.
‘Why? What did he do?’ Henry asked in a hushed voice.
‘Well, he was doing a puzzle. There were pieces all over the table. Then Zeke stared at them and they all crawled together. Well, most of them. They made a picture. He showed it to me. It was a ship, but some of the pieces wouldn’t fit.’
‘It’s rude to whisper,’ said Zeke without taking his eyes off the puzzle.
Henry pulled himself out of the chair and strolled over to his cousin. He glanced at the twelve pieces lying beside the puzzle and then at the picture of the ship. It took less than a minute for him to see exactly where each piece fitted.
‘Hm,’ said Henry, and without another word he picked up the single pieces, one by one, and deftly placed them into the picture; two in the sky, three in the ship’s hull, two in the rigging and four in the sea.
For a moment, Zeke watched Henry’s hands in fascination. It was only when Henry was putting the last piece in place, that Zeke suddenly leapt up, crying, ‘Who asked you? I could have done it. I could!’
‘Sorry,’ said Henry, stepping back. ‘I thought you wanted some help.’
‘Henry’s good at puzzles,’ said James.
‘Well I’m good at other things,’ snarled Zeke.
James was too small to see the danger signs. The angry glitter in Zeke’s black eyes went straight over his head. ‘Magic doesn’t always work,’ the little boy said blithely. ‘Henry’s cleverer than you are, Zeke.’
With that remark poor James Yewbeam sealed his brother’s fate and, of course, his own.
‘Get out!’ cried Zeke. ‘Both of you. Hateful Yewbeams. Go, now. I can’t stand the sight of you!’
Henry and James ran for the door. There was a violent gleam in their cousin’s pale face, and they didn’t want to wait around for him to do something nasty.
‘Where are we going?’ panted James as he tore down the passages after his brother.
‘We’ll go to the big hall, Jamie. We can play marbles there.’ Henry pulled a small leather bag out of his pocket and waved it at his brother.
It wasn’t to be. Before they could go any further there was a shout from Aunt Gudrun.
‘James, bedtime.’ James pretended not to hear her. ‘Now, this minute.’
‘Better go,’ said Henry gently. ‘She’ll punish you, if you don’t.’
‘But I want to play marbles,’ said James.
Henry shook his head. ‘Sorry, Jamie. Not now. Tomorrow. But I’ll come and read to you later.’
‘Promise? Will you finish the story of the Wallypug?’
‘James, come here,’ shouted Aunt Gudrun.
‘I promise,’ said Henry, and he meant to keep his promise. But Zeke had other plans for him.
Hanging his head, James trailed back towards the tall figure at the end of the passage.
‘And you, Henry!’ called Aunt Gudrun. ‘You keep out of trouble.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ said Henry.
He was about to descend the rather grand staircase down to the hall when he had an idea. It was already so chilly he could see his own breath, billowing away from him in little grey clouds. The great hall would be even colder. He might freeze to death.
Henry retraced his steps until he found the door to a room he had already investigated. It was a huge storeroom, full of clothes left behind by past students of the academy. There were rows of coloured capes: blue, green and purple; shelves of hats and suits, and boxes of ancient leather boots.
Henry selected a warm blue cape and put it on. It reached well over his knees, a perfect length for a draughty hall. He would be able to kneel on it without feeling the cold stone floor.
Henry descended into the hall. His hoard of marbles was the envy of all his friends. Henry’s father travelled extensively and never came home without at least one precious new marble for his son’s collection. Henry’s leather bag held onyx stones, polished agate, glass, limestone, quartz and even spheres of