"Charlie!" came a whisper.
"Em?" said Charlie.
Emma came tiptoeing toward him. "Come away from the window," she said.
"Someone might see you from the garden."
Charlie hadn't thought of this. He backed behind a group of easels and found Emma crouching on the floor. She was obviously very nervous.
"What's been happening, Charlie?" She sounded aggrieved. "You were late for dinner, your sweater's got blood on it, and Dagbert Endless has disappeared."
Charlie hesitated. Emma looked so scared he wondered how he could tell her about his dangerous day without making her even more fearful.
"Charlie, please, what's been happening?" she begged.
So Charlie told her. He tried his best to speak calmly when he described the fight with Ashkelan Kapaldi, but he failed to keep the terror out of his voice when he relived the drowning sensation he felt as the roaring wave swept over him, and he could hardly contain his excitement when he recounted the astonishing shrinking of the Sea Globe.
Charlie needn't have worried. By the time he had finished, Emma's spirits had risen considerably. In fact she looked almost cheerful. "Oh, Charlie, perhaps we are winning after all," she said happily. "I was feeling so gloomy about everything, but now I believe we stand a chance, and if I can get that awful vest away from Olivia, she'll be her old self again."
"I saw something glittering under her cape," said Charlie.
"So that's the vest that you think has changed her?"
"I'm sure of it. I tried to get it away from her when she was changing in the bathroom, but she nearly tore my hand off."
"Hmmm." Charlie scratched his wiry hair. "Take a good look at that vest," he said. "Try and memorize every stitch and sequin. Then come over to my place on Friday night. Alice Angel is there."
"Alice!" Emma clapped her hands delightedly. "Oh, Alice can save Liv, I know it."
A voice suddenly cut across the room. "Charlie, are you there? Matron is on the warpath."
Charlie and Emma jumped up. Fidelio was standing by the door, his hand on the light switch. "Come on, quick," he said, turning off the light.
They ran for the door and as soon as they were through, Fidelio closed it quickly behind them. When the boys reached their dormitory, Emma kept running toward the next staircase.
"Where is Matron?" Charlie whispered.
"In the bathroom," Fidelio told him. "Rupe Small has lost his toothbrush, and Matron's waiting for him to find it."
Charlie grinned. But when they got into the dormitory, they discovered that the toothbrush had been found and Matron, otherwise known as Lucretia Yewbeam, was standing at the end of Charlie's bed with her hands on her hips.
"Where have you been?" she demanded as Charlie walked in.
"Working," lied Charlie. "Mr. Pope gave me extra homework."
The lie worked. Charlie's great-aunt gave a nasty smirk and said, "Serves you right." He could only hope that she wouldn't mention the extra homework to Mr. Pope.
From the other end of the dormitory, Simon Hawke piped up. "Dagbert Endless isn't here."
"No," the matron said flatly and left the room.
"Odd," said Simon. "She doesn't seem bothered about the fish boy. Does anyone know where he is?"
"Probably gone home," said Bragger Braine.
"Can't have," argued Simon. "We're only halfway through the week."
"Haven't you noticed?" Bragger plumped up his pillow. "Lots of kids have left."
Charlie went to the bathroom. What did Bragger mean? No one ever left Bloor's Academy halfway through the week. It wasn't allowed. He took a long time brushing his teeth and combing his impossible hair. By the time he left the bathroom, the lights were out and some of the boys were already asleep.
Charlie didn't even expect to sleep. Scenes from his extraordinary day kept chasing one another through his head. One moment he felt elated, the next full of doubt. And then he remembered the postcard. How could he possibly sleep when news of his parents might be only a few steps away? Swinging his feet to the floor, he shuffled into his slippers and put on his bathrobe.
Everyone brought a flashlight to school, and although the battery in Charlie's was running low, it gave him enough light to see his way down the unlit hallway to the landing.
Here was the tricky bit. A small light was always left burning in the hall, and at any moment a member of the staff could walk through one of the doors opening onto the hall and see Charlie. There was nothing for it but to hurry and hope. Taking a deep breath, Charlie tiptoed down the creaking stairs as fast as he could. Without pausing to look back, he flew along the hallway of portraits to the blue cafeteria. Raised voices could be heard coming from the
direction of the green cafeteria. Mr. and Mrs. Weedon arguing again, thought Charlie. He quickly slipped into the blue cafeteria and then into the kitchen beyond.
It was pitch-dark in the kitchen; a strong smell of cooked cabbage filled Charlie's nostrils and he pinched his nose. He hadn't visited Cook's apartment for some time, but shining his flashlight across the rows of closets, he quickly recognized Cook's entrance. He always felt slightly apprehensive when he opened this door because if anyone discovered Cook's secret, she would be banished from the academy.
The Bloors believed she slept in a cold little room in the east wing and were completely unaware of the wonderful labyrinth beneath the building.
Charlie stepped into the closet and, closing one door behind him, opened the other. Now he was in the softly lit hall that led to the next closet and then into Cook's room.
"My Heavens!" cried Cook as Charlie walked out of the closet at the end of her room. "What are you doing here, Charlie Bone?"
"The postcard," said Charlie. "Gabriel said you had a postcard for me."
"So I have," said Cook. "But you could have waited until tomorrow."
"I couldn't," said Charlie. "I'm sorry, but I had to know what my parents had written."
"Ah, you guessed. Yes, Maisie gave me the card when we met at our usual time in the market. Luckily, your other grandma didn't see it."
Cook reached for the postcard that sat on a shelf above her stove. "Sit down and read," she said, "while I make a cup of cocoa and then, seeing as you're here, we can discuss what's been going on. It hasn't entirely escaped my notice that a few reversals of fortune have taken place today."
Charlie grabbed the postcard and dropped into an armchair by the stove. There was a low grunt behind him, and Blessed eased himself out from the back of the chair and tumbled onto the floor, landing in an untidy heap.
"Sorry, Blessed. Didn't see you," Charlie muttered as he quickly scanned the writing on the back of the card. "It makes no sense," he complained after reading the card a second, then a third time.
"Why's that?" asked Cook. "It makes perfect sense to me. Your parents are safe, Charlie."
"Are they? Are they really? This card might have been posted before the storms, by someone on a ship that passed them."
The card was from Charlie's mother, and it read: "We're on our way home. Not long now. We've missed you so much. But soon, we'll all be together. Your father says you mustn't look for the box. We love you. Mom xxxx."
"So what don't you understand?" asked Cook, handing Charlie a cup of cocoa.
"The box," said Charlie. "It's such a puzzle. How did they know I was looking for a box, and why did my dad tell me to stop looking for it?"
"Probably because he knows where it is," Cook replied.
Charlie sipped his cocoa. "But how... ," he began. "I just don't understand.
Has he suddenly remembered where he put it? Or has he always known? And...
and where is it?"
"Best not to know," said Cook in her warm, wise voice.
Charlie gazed at the comforting red glow in Cook's stove. "I don't know why Dad went away when the city got so dangerous," he murmured. "And sometimes I've felt angry with him and kind of disappointed. But he must have had a reason, mustn't he?"