Midnight for Charlie Bone. Jenny Nimmo

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СКАЧАТЬ 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?’

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      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. Sapphire, a lovely colour.’

      ‘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?’

      ‘After half-term,’ his mother told him.

      ‘So soon?’ Charlie was horrified. ‘In the middle of a term? Before Christmas?’

      ‘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 mite,’ Maisie muttered.

      It had begun to rain again and Maisie pulled on a bright pink mack. Charlie’s mother took an umbrella from the hallstand. She didn’t like wearing a mackintosh.

      ‘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 fetch the orange envelope. He had just opened it and 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.

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