Charlie Bone and the Blue Boa. Jenny Nimmo

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ said Olivia. ‘But I think you should put the letter back on Mr B’s desk. It’s none of our business who he is, or what he’s up to.’

      ‘But it is.’ Emma pushed her long blonde hair out of her face. She was very agitated. Olivia knew her friend liked Mr Boldova. He was young for a teacher, but he was good at art, and he seemed to be on the children’s side whenever there was trouble.

      ‘You remember when Manfred locked me in the attic, well someone let me out, and whoever it was had a passion for jam. I heard Manfred teasing him about it. I know this sounds peculiar but he, or she, seemed to be invisible. And then there was this boy, Ollie Sparks, who was lost in the attics ages ago. He got out eventually and everyone thought he’d gone home, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was punished. Maybe he’s still up there.’ She glanced up at the tiled roof of the academy.

      ‘Hmm. So what d’you want to do about it?’ asked Olivia.

      Emma shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

      A hunting horn sounded across the garden and the two friends agreed to talk again in the afternoon break.

      Emma’s next lesson was French, but first she ran to the art room. It was empty and she was just sneaking the letter on to Mr Boldova’s desk, when he walked in.

      ‘Emma?’ He looked surprised. ‘Shouldn’t you be in another lesson?’

      ‘French, sir. But, it’s just that I . . .well, I’m really sorry, but I read your letter and . . .’ Suddenly Emma found herself telling Mr Boldova about the invisible presence in the attic, the person who liked jam.

      Mr Boldova listened intently and then he sat at his desk and said, ‘Thank you, Emma. Thank you very much. Will you promise not to tell anyone else about this?’

      ‘But I’ve already told Olivia Vertigo, and she might tell some of our friends.’

      ‘Can you trust them, Emma?’

      ‘With my life,’ said Emma.

      Mr Boldova smiled. He looked a rather outdoor sort of person for an artist. His face was tanned and his dark brown hair was drawn back in a ponytail, somewhat like Manfred Bloor’s, only Manfred’s hair was black and stringy.

      Emma said, ‘What happened to Ollie, sir? We thought he’d gone home after he escaped from the attics.’

      ‘I’m afraid not,’ sighed the teacher. ‘Our parents live a long way from here. Dr Bloor agreed to put Ollie on a train in the company of the matron’s sister, a Miss Yewbeam. She told us that Ollie went to get an orange juice from the station cafeteria, and never came back.’

      ‘I bet he never even got as far as the train,’ said Emma hotly. ‘Those Yewbeams are evil. They’re Charlie Bone’s great-aunts, you know, and they make his life a misery.’

      ‘Ah, Charlie Bone,’ Mr Boldova said thoughtfully.

      ‘I’d like to help Ollie,’ Emma went on. ‘He helped me, you see, and I could probably find the place where he’s kept.’

      ‘Better leave it to me, Emma. It could be dangerous.’

      ‘Sounds like it could be dangerous for you too, sir.’

      ‘I can take care of myself,’ Mr Boldova said cheerfully. ‘Now run along to your French lesson.’

      Emma went, but she didn’t hurry. She had too much on her mind. She was ten minutes late for her French lesson, and Madame Tessier was furious. She was an excitable woman and always hated the first day of term. She missed the sunny French city where she had been born, and complained constantly about the gloomy, grey academy, with its creaking floorboards, erratic heating and poor lighting. She was only there because Dr Bloor offered her a salary she couldn’t resist.

      ‘Go! Go!’ she shrieked at Emma. ‘You don’t want my lesson, you don’t come in. It eez too late. So allez – allez!’ She waved her long fingers at Emma. ‘Get out!’

      Emma got out – quickly.

      ‘You too,’ came a husky whisper.

      Emma looked down the corridor and saw Charlie Bone standing outside the history room. He had just said that Napoleon was the Emperor of Russia. Mr Pope, the history teacher, had screamed at Charlie, telling him he was an ignoramus, and he didn’t want to see him in his class a minute longer.

      ‘I didn’t really hear the question.’ Charlie’s loud whisper echoed across to Emma. ‘I was thinking about a dog.’

      Emma glanced up and down the corridor. There was no one about. ‘What dog?’ she whispered.

      In as quiet a voice as he could manage, Charlie told Emma about Benjamin and Runner Bean. ‘Why were you sent out?’ he asked.

      ‘I was just late,’ said Emma. She recounted her conversation with Mr Boldova.

      Charlie’s eyes gleamed with interest. Yet another mention of someone dangerous on the move. Was it possible that they were one and the same?

      ‘So you reckon Ollie Sparks is in the attics?’ He paused and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. ‘Let’s go and look, shall we?’

      Emma was horrified. ‘What, now?’

      ‘I can’t think of a better time,’ said Charlie. ‘We’ve got half an hour before the end of the lesson. Everyone else is in class, so who’s going to see us? I’m bored stiff hanging around out here.’

      Before Emma could think of an excuse, Charlie had sprinted off towards a staircase at the end of the corridor. Emma wished she hadn’t told Charlie about the attics. He was inclined to rush into things without thinking them through. But she felt she had no choice but to follow.

      They crept up one staircase after another. Once they bumped into Dr Saltweather, who interrupted his humming to ask where they were going. ‘We’ve been sent to get books from the library,’ said Charlie. And Dr Saltweather waved them on, although they were nowhere near the library. But Dr Saltweather was oblivious to everything but his precious music.

      They ran along dark passages and through empty, creaking rooms and, as they drew near to the west wing of the building, Emma became increasingly nervous. She still had nightmares about the time when her only escape was to become a bird and fly.

      Memory, or instinct, led her to the cell-like room where Manfred Bloor had once imprisoned her. Light from a tiny window showed dark walls patched with green slime, a narrow bed covered in filthy blankets and black, broken floorboards.

      ‘What an awful place,’ Charlie murmured.

      ‘Manfred locked me in,’ said Emma. ‘But then someone turned the key on the other side, and the door opened. I rushed to see who it was but there was no one there. Manfred caught me and brought me back, but – and this is the strange part – he said to someone, “Any more trouble and you won’t get jam for a week.” That’s why I thought it might be Mr Boldova’s brother, Ollie. Because he liked jam.’

      ‘Perhaps he’s been locked in some other gruesome room like this one.’ As СКАЧАТЬ