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.’
‘No thank you.’ Grandma Bone plonked herself in the rocker by the stove.
Paton frowned. He had been meaning to get rid of the rocker. No one else ever used it. It had been a constant reminder of Grandma Bone’s gloomy presence. If only he’d thought ahead and chopped it up for firewood a day earlier.
Creak! Creak! Creak! There she went, with her eyes closed and her head nestled into her chin. Rock! Rock! Rock! The sound was enough to curdle the soup.
‘So,’ Paton found a voice at last. ‘I hear you’ve fallen out with your sisters, Grizelda.’
‘They’re your sisters too,’ she snorted. ‘Marriage indeed! I never heard of such rubbish. Venetia’s fifty-two. She should’ve given up that sort of thing years ago.’
‘What sort of thing?’ asked Charlie.
‘Don’t be insolent,’ his grandmother replied.
Charlie finished his soup and stood up. ‘I bet you’ll leave when my dad comes back,’ he said.
‘Oh, but you’re all going to live in that cosy little Diamond Corner.’ She gave Charlie one of her chilly stares. ‘But then whale-watching can be very dangerous. He may never –’
Charlie didn’t wait to hear what his grandmother might say next. ‘I’m going to see Ben,’ he cried, rushing into the hall and flinging on his jacket.
Maisie called, ‘Charlie, it’s dark, love. Don’t pay any attention to Grandma Bone. She didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘She did,’ muttered Charlie. He left the house, ran across the road to number twelve and rang the bell. Filbert Street was always quiet at this time on a Sunday. There were very few cars about and the pavements were deserted. And yet Charlie felt a prickling at the back of his neck that told him someone was watching him.
‘Come on, come on.’ Charlie pressed the bell a second time.
Benjamin Brown opened the door. He was a few months younger than Charlie and a lot smaller. His scruffy yellow hair was exactly the same colour as the large dog that stood
