Jenny Nimmo - Charlie Bone and the Wilderness Wolf

Charlie found Rupe even more annoying than Bragger. He had such a whiney, high-pitched voice. He followed Bragger’s every move with his big doggy eyes, and never said a word unless he was quite sure that Bragger would approve.

‘They’re not peculiar,’ Fidelio said evenly.

‘OK. So what do you do, new boy?’ Bragger climbed on to the rail at the foot of Dagbert’s bed. ‘Forgive me for saying so, but Endless isn’t a name.’

All at once Dagbert straightened up. He fixed Bragger with his aquamarine eyes and said, ‘My name is as endless as the ocean, and I drown people.’

Bragger’s feet slipped off the rail and he landed on his back on the floor.

Nobody laughed.

It was one of the other boys who passed on the news about Dagbert. It certainly wasn’t Bragger. Falling on your back in terror is nothing to brag about.

Word spread fast. Soon even the doziest first-former had heard the rumour: Dagbert Endless drowned people.

But how? That was the question on everyone’s mind. On bath night it was noticeable how shallow the bath water was in every bath. Some of the children decided against bathing altogether and opted for a cold shower in the unheated changing rooms. In February. That’s how worried they were.

‘What’s the matter with you all?’ grumbled the matron. ‘You usually complain that you can’t get enough water. Now, all at once, you don’t want any. You’ve barely got enough to clean your knees.’

People began to avoid Charlie because Dagbert was always at his side. In team games Charlie was always the last to be picked, as though the new boy were permanently attached to him, and if you got Charlie, you were saddled with Dagbert-the-Drowner as well.

There were exceptions, of course. You couldn’t keep Joshua, Dorcas and the twins away from Dagbert. So Charlie had to put up with their company as well. He found it exhausting, listening to them boasting about their peculiar talents. However, he did manage to learn something very interesting.

They were sitting in the King’s Room, waiting for homework to begin. Lysander and Tancred hadn’t arrived, Billy was searching for a reference book, Emma was late and Gabriel was in the sanatorium with a virus.

Charlie had opened his history book and was pretending to make notes on the American War of Independence. The conversation on the other side of the table was being conducted in harsh whispers, with the occasional giggle thrown in by Dorcas. And then, all at once, Charlie caught the phrase: ‘ She taught me everything I know about bewitching clothes .’

Dorcas was talking about Charlie’s Great Aunt Venetia. He lowered his head and opened his ears.

‘Anyway, she told me about this man,’ Dorcas went on. ‘She wanted to marry him because, for one thing, he’s rich, and for another his little boy is endowed – at least Venetia thinks he is . . .’ She stopped and Charlie felt her eyes on him. He kept his head down but Dorcas continued in such a soft whisper he could only catch the odd word. Words like ‘Arthur Shellhorn, poison, beads, heart-failure . . . herbs of infatuation . . . wedding . . .’

It was easy enough to guess the rest, and it didn’t take Charlie long to work out what his great-aunt had done. Uncle Paton had warned him that Venetia wasn’t above murder, and he was right. She had poisoned Arthur Shellhorn’s wife with a string of beads that stopped her heart, then soaked Arthur’s coat in a brew of infatuating herbs. And poor, deluded Arthur, desperately in love, had begged Venetia to marry him.

At this point Lysander and Tancred breezed in, the latter looking even more blown about than usual.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ said Lysander. ‘We were in a meeting. Glad to see you’re all getting on with your work. Where’s Billy?’

‘Here. I’m here.’ Billy shuffled through the door with Emma a few paces behind him.

Silence fell. Everyone bent their head towards their books. Homework began.

Charlie stared at the pages of his history book without seeing them. His mind roamed elsewhere. He was trying to imagine what it would be like to have a stepmother like Great Aunt Venetia: poisoner, bewitcher, murderer. He could hardly wait to see Uncle Paton. One more night to go, he thought, and then he’d be free of Dagbert Endless. He would be sitting at home, eating one of Maisie’s delicious suppers.

It was not to be.

On Thursday night, only five minutes after lights out, Dagbert decided to tell a bedtime story.

‘It’s against the rules to talk after lights out.’ Charlie’s whispered warning made no impression on Dagbert, so he raised his whisper another notch. ‘You’ll get detention.’

‘Who says?’ asked Dagbert.

‘Let him tell the story,’ said Bragger, keen to keep on the right side of Dagbert.

‘Yes, let him,’ squeaked Rupe. ‘You’re a spoilsport, Charlie Bone.’

Fidelio muttered, ‘You won’t be seeing your fish shop on Friday night, Bertie boy.’

‘Want to bet?’ sneered Dagbert. ‘And don’t call me Bertie.’

Fidelio turned over and punched his pillow into shape.

In a loud voice Dagbert continued his story. It was boring and badly told. It certainly wasn’t funny, even though Bragger and Rupe kept giggling. Stories about mermaids always made Charlie yawn. He yawned and closed his eyes.

Two seconds later the door opened and Matron marched into the room. She turned on the light. Charlie opened his eyes and blinked.

‘Who was talking?’ Matron demanded.

‘I was,’ Dagbert said cheerfully. ‘I was telling a story.’

‘You’re breaking the rules,’ said Matron.

‘ Am I?’ Dagbert sounded incredulous. ‘I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.’

Matron gave a sigh of annoyance. ‘Charlie, you’re responsible for the new boy. You’re supposed to tell him the rules.’

‘Yes, well, I –’ Charlie began.

‘Detention for you,’ snapped his great-aunt. ‘You won’t be going home until Saturday.’

‘But I did tell him,’ Charlie protested.

Matron switched off the light and marched out, slamming the door behind her.

The silence that followed was broken by a snort from Bragger and a snigger from Rupe.

Charlie lay on his back staring into the darkness. He told himself that he didn’t care. What was one more day after all? He lay awake long past midnight and then, just as he was drifting into sleep, a sound came stealing through the night. A far, far distant howl.

There was a rustle of bedclothes and Charlie saw the rounded shape of Billy Raven’s white head. He was sitting up – listening. He knows what the howl means, thought Charlie, and soon he’ll tell me.

The last thing Charlie expected was an apology, but at breakfast next morning, he got one.

‘Sorry about last night,’ said Dagbert, swallowing a spoonful of cornflakes. ‘I couldn’t afford to get detention. The people I live with won’t understand if I don’t turn up tonight.’

‘You didn’t have to talk after lights out, though, did you?’ said Fidelio. ‘Charlie warned you.’

Dagbert frowned. ‘It’s hard to keep stories to yourself,’ he murmured.

Charlie almost felt sorry for him. ‘Well, you won’t get away with it a second time. Matron’s told you now, so you’ll have to keep your stories bottled up.’

‘Yes, I will,’ Dagbert said pensively. ‘Imagine. Stories in a bottle.’

Not for the first time Charlie wondered what was going on in Dagbert’s head.