Jenny Nimmo - Charlie Bone and the Wilderness Wolf

They began the walk home to number nine, Filbert Street. Uncle Paton was thinking about the intruders and failed to notice that the street lights had come on. Before Charlie had time to warn him he carelessly glanced upwards and the lamp over his head gave a loud pop and exploded.

Uncle Paton ducked as a shower of glass rained down on his head. ‘Bother! Bother! Bother!’ he cried. ‘Who’d be a power-booster?’

Paton Yewbeam, another of the Red King’s descendants, had inherited an unfortunate endowment. If he so much as glanced at a light that was on, whether it was in a window, a house, on the street or at home, the element would reach such intense heat that the bulb inevitably exploded. So Paton rarely left home in the daytime. Traffic lights, brake lights and shop windows were all at risk from his unhappy talent. And he found it very embarrassing.

This time Uncle Paton’s accident had revealed something. In the bright flash that momentarily filled the street, two figures could be seen cowering beside a hedge. The moment lasted less than a second but their faces were printed sharply in Charlie’s mind. They looked – not quite human.

Charlie had blinked against the shower of glass that fell on to his uncle. When he opened his eyes again, the figures had vanished.

‘Come on, Charlie, let’s get out of here before someone sees us.’ Uncle Paton took Charlie’s arm and pulled him away from the scene of his crime.

‘Someone did see us, Uncle P,’ said Charlie. ‘I think it might have been them . You know, the intruders. But they weren’t exactly people. If you know what I mean.’

‘I do not.’ Uncle Paton gripped Charlie even tighter. ‘Quick, quick! Over here.’

Charlie found himself being dragged across the street. A fast-approaching car gave a warning hoot and Uncle Paton hauled him on to the pavement.

‘What did you say about not-exactly-people?’ Uncle Paton tugged the brim of his hat. Now even his nose was hidden.

‘They were weird, Uncle P,’ Charlie panted. ‘I can’t explain.’

‘Try,’ commanded his uncle. ‘I want to know what kind of creatures we’re up against.’

Uncle Paton set off again at his usual breakneck speed. Charlie had to make little skipping movements in order to keep up with him. ‘It’s not fair,’ Charlie complained. ‘Your legs are twice as long as mine.’

‘I want to put distance between myself and the street lamp,’ Uncle Paton snapped. He turned a corner and slowed his pace. ‘Now, try again. What made these things inhuman, Charlie?’

‘They were a bit hairy for one thing,’ said Charlie. ‘And their eyes – their eyes, well, I think they were too far apart for a human. They were more like dogs – or, or –’

‘Wolves?’ his uncle suggested.

‘Maybe,’ Charlie said cautiously. ‘If wolves have yellow eyes.’

‘Hmm. Why do I think that the Bloors have something to do with this? Tell me, did your father mention anything that he might have left at the old house?’

‘Nothing,’ said Charlie. ‘But then there were so many things that he’d forgotten.’ He smiled to himself. It was enough that his father had remembered his mother and himself. ‘His memory is coming back, though. Every day something new pops into his head. Maybe when he comes home again, he’ll be completely recovered.’

‘And that’s what they’re afraid of.’ Uncle Paton came to a standstill.

‘Who? What?’ asked Charlie.

‘Listen, Charlie. We believe that Manfred Bloor hypnotised your father, because he caused old Ezekiel’s accident. But I have come to think that there was more to it. I believe your father was hiding something that the Bloors wanted. Perhaps they hoped that under hypnosis he would reveal its hiding place. But this never happened. And now they’re afraid that he will remember, and find whatever it is before they do.’

Charlie couldn’t imagine what had led his uncle to this conclusion. But Paton Yewbeam had an enquiring mind. He was writing a history of the Red King, and his room was crammed with huge books that covered every subject Charlie had heard of, and a lot more that he hadn’t.

Diamond Street lay on the outskirts of the city and it took Charlie and his uncle nearly an hour to get home. By that time dusk had fallen and a thick mist was creeping through the streets. Curiously it smelled of salt, though the sea was at least thirty miles away.

Charlie’s grandmother, Maisie, met them at the door. She had the look of someone who’d had a nasty shock. ‘Grandma Bone’s back,’ she whispered, turning out the hall light, in case of a Paton accident.

‘Back?’ said Paton loudly. ‘Why on earth . . .’

‘Sssh!’ Maisie put a finger to her lips. ‘Come in here.’

Charlie and his uncle followed Maisie into the kitchen. The table had been laid and while Maisie ladled mushroom soup into three bowls she told them about Grandma Bone’s dramatic arrival.

Grandma Bone was Paton’s sister. She was twenty years older than him and they’d never got on. She didn’t even get on with her only son, Charlie’s father. As soon as he’d come home after ten long years imprisoned in Bloor’s Academy, Grandma Bone had moved out. She’d gone to live with her three sisters at the end of a grim and gloomy alley called Darkly Wynd. Charlie had hoped he would never see her again.

‘She’s still got a key,’ Maisie told them. ‘She marched in, dumped her bag in the hall and said, “I’m back!” “Why?” I asked. Well, that was wrong for a start. “Anyone would think you were sorry,” she said. “I am,” I said. “I thought you’d gone for good.”’

Charlie began to giggle.

Paton asked, ‘But what is her reason, Maisie? Why has she returned?’

‘A wedding!’ said Maisie.

‘Whose?’ begged Paton.

‘Your youngest sister, Venetia. She’s getting married next week.’

Charlie choked on his soup. ‘Great Aunt Venetia? Who on earth would want to marry her?’

‘Who indeed, Charlie love,’ said Maisie. ‘But some poor man is soon going to rue the day.’

‘How extraordinary.’ Paton stared at Maisie in disbelief.

‘Grandma Bone is very put out,’ Maisie went on, ‘but her sisters are all for it apparently.’

‘Phew.’ Paton blew on his soup, which couldn’t have been that hot because he’d already swallowed several spoonfuls without a murmur. He was trying not to show it but anyone could see that he was utterly baffled and extremely shocked.

Uncle Paton’s four sisters were all as bad as each other. They loathed their only brother and spent their lives tormenting him, just because he didn’t agree with their morals and made very sure they knew it. All four of them were mean, spiteful, arrogant, dishonest and greedy. In fact, Charlie couldn’t find enough words to describe how horrible they were. None of them had ever given Charlie a kind word, let alone a birthday present, not even Grandma Bone.

Maisie had saved the best part of her announcement till last. ‘The worst of it is, he’s got children,’ she said dramatically. ‘What do you think of that?’

‘Children!’ Charlie shuddered. ‘Poor things. Imagine Great Aunt Venetia being your mother!’

‘Impossible.’ Paton suddenly looked up.

Charlie had his back to the door and failed to see Grandma Bone walking up behind him.

‘I’m glad I’m not your mother,’ said Grandma Bone testily. She marched over to the fridge and opened it. ‘There’s nothing in here,’ she complained. ‘Nothing but cheese and old bones. No pâté, no mayonnaise and not even a sniff of salmon.’

Maisie gave a huge sigh. ‘How was I to know you’d come hunting in here, with your fussy stomach and your dainty mouth? Sit down, Grizelda, and I’ll give you some mushroom soup.’