Midnight for Charlie Bone. Jenny Nimmo
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She gazed into the distance for a moment and murmured, ‘He wasn’t himself that day. Something had happened. It was almost as if he were under a spell.’
She wiped away a very small tear. ‘I don’t think Grandma Bone has an ounce of love in her,’ she said. ‘As far as the Yewbeams were concerned, when Lyell died it was just the end of an unfortunate episode. But they were interested in you, Charlie. Suppose you turned out to be endowed? They realised they would have to take care of you until they found out. So they gave me a house and let Maisie move in. And then Grandma Bone arrived. To watch us. Uncle Paton came shortly after that, because . . . well, I suppose he didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was grateful for everything, until the photos vanished. It was something I just couldn’t understand. Grandma Bone denied having touched them, of course.’
Charlie listened to his mother’s story and put two and two together. ‘I know why the photos vanished,’ he murmured. ‘Grandma Bone didn’t want me to hear what my father had to say.’
‘But, Charlie, you were only two,’ said his mother. ‘She didn’t know that you would have this funny gift for hearing voices.’
‘She guessed,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s probably in the family.’
His serious face made his mother smile. She kissed him goodnight and told him not to worry about the Yewbeams. ‘And don’t worry about Bloor’s Academy either,’ she said. ‘After all, your father went there.’
‘And did he have a talent?’ asked Charlie.
‘Oh, yes,’ said his mother, from the door. ‘But not your sort of talent, Charlie. He wasn’t endowed. He was a musician.’
When she had gone Charlie couldn’t sleep. He had too much on his mind. It was unsettling to think he was part of such a peculiar family. He wanted to know more. Much more. But where to begin? Perhaps Uncle Paton could provide a few answers. He didn’t seem as heartless as his sisters.
The storm blew itself out. The rain stopped. The wind died and the cathedral clock struck midnight. On the twelfth stroke, Charlie felt a sudden, strange breathlessness. Something was happening to him. It was as if he were passing through a moment when he might live or die. He thought of Lyell, the father he couldn’t remember.
The moment passed and Charlie found himself wide awake and restless. A few minutes later, he heard Uncle Paton creak downstairs and go to the kitchen for a snack. Charlie had grown used to his uncle’s night-time ramble. It always woke him up. Usually he would just turn over and go back to sleep. Tonight he jumped out of bed and got dressed.
When his uncle left the house, Charlie crept downstairs and followed him. He’d often wanted to do this but he’d never had the courage. Tonight was different; he felt confident and determined. Paton moved fast. By the time Charlie had closed the front door, very softly behind him, his uncle was about to turn a corner. Keeping close to the houses, Charlie ran to the end of the street.
Paton paused and looked back. Charlie shrank into the shadows. The street they had turned into was lit by small bell-shaped lamps that cast a soft glow on the wet paving stones. Here, the trees grew closer, the walls were higher. It was a quiet and mysterious place.
Paton Yewbeam was on the move again, but now his purposeful stride had become an aimless stroll. Soon, Charlie, hopping from tree to tree, found himself only a few paces behind his uncle.
A chill wind cuffed Charlie’s ears and he began to wonder if his midnight stalking was going to come to anything. Uncle Paton hadn’t turned into a vampire or a werewolf after all. Perhaps he just felt happier in the dark. Charlie was about to turn and creep back home when his uncle suddenly stopped. He was standing about a metre away from a lamppost and a strange sort of humming came from him. Not humming, exactly, because Charlie couldn’t actually hear it. It was more like a feeling of humming, as though the air round his uncle was charged with soundless music.
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 pavement.
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?’
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 tucked Charlie’s hand through his arm and they began to walk home again.
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 night life of a city. Uncle Paton could have a wild time down in the centre, 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 theatres and cinemas and discos 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 so 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 egg 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.