"Tell us, Olivia." Miss Ingledew sat down again and put on an earnest expression.
"I think the stone hound was meant to break down Mr. Bittermouse's door," Olivia said225triumphantly. "Runner Bean just happened to be in the way. Remember, Charlie?
You told us Mr. Bittermouse said, 'I haven't done any harm for sixty years." Which means he did once, and someone's getting back at him at last."
Nobody argued. It made perfect sense. Except, as Miss Ingledew pointed out, the someone who put Eric up to his nasty tricks must be quite old by now, if Mr. Bittermouse had harmed them such a very long time ago.
"It could be a family feud," Benjamin suggested.
"Yes, yes, Benjamin, I think you're right." Miss Ingledew sat down again. "Their descendants are returning to settle old scores, to continue the feuds that began centuries ago." She frowned. "But why now? And who has summoned them?"
"The shadow," said Charlie.
Olivia shook her head. "It can't be the shadow. Why do you keep coming back to him, Charlie? The shadow was banished. He's gone. If he wasn't, he'd226be seen in the streets, causing trouble, appearing at Bloor's. He was an enchanter, for goodness' sake; he'd be creating mayhem, after what happened to him."
"Then he's reaching those Piminy Street people through someone else," Charlie claimed.
"Mrs. Tilpin. She still has the Mirror of Amoret. Even though it's broken, maybe she can still talk to the shadow."
"Let's hope no one can fix the mirror," said Emma.
Mss Ingledew gave a little shiver, as though she were trying to shrug off something unpleasant. "I must get back to work. I've a lot to do before the store opens tomorrow.
Stay as long as you like, boys, and finish those chestnuts while they're warm."
When Miss Ingledew had gone, no one spoke for a while, and then Olivia said, "Shall we go and see Dr. Bloor tomorrow, Charlie?"
He didn't like the idea at all; he knew that Billy was in Badlock, but Olivia had boxed him into a227corner. "I'll go alone, if you don't mind," he said. "Billy was staying with me, so it's my responsibility."
"OK. But just let me know if you want me to come." Olivia peeled another chestnut. "I think I'll dye my hair green tonight."
"Good," said Charlie, for want of a better response.
So much had happened over the weekend Charlie couldn't be blamed for overlooking a very important detail. It was Benjamin who brought it up, as he and Charlie were walking home.
"Was Rembrandt with Billy when he disappeared?" asked Benjamin.
Charlie stopped dead. "I don't know," he said slowly. "He wasn't in my bedroom. I'd have seen him."
"Well, if you find him in the cellar, it means that Billy was definitely there, doesn't it?"
Benjamin looked rather pleased with himself.
"Certainly does, Ben." Charlie felt much more228optimistic. At least there was something he could do to prove that Billy had gone into the cellar.
"Good luck, then, Charlie!" Benjamin sprinted across the road to number twelve, with Runner Bean bounding beside him.
When he reached his own front door, the yellow dog looked back at Charlie, as if to say,
"Better you than me."
Rembrandt was not in the cellar. Charlie turned over every mattress, bag, box, moth-eaten blanket, pillow, and suitcase. He even forced himself to look behind the sinister painting, still propped against the wall,
"Charlie, whatever are you doing?" Maisie called softly from the hall.
"I'm looking for Rembrandt," Charlie shouted, not caring who heard.
"Rembrandt? Didn't Billy take him, then?"
"Yes, he probably did," Charlie said angrily as he climbed the cellar steps. "Only YOU
think he took him to Bloor's, and I think he took him to Badlock."229Maisie said sadly,
"I wish your uncle would come back."
But Uncle Paton didn't come back. And next morning there was no sign of a white camper van outside the house, and no answer when Charlie knocked on his uncle's door.
There was, however, a postcard.
"Look! Look!" cried Maisie, running into the kitchen. "Your mom and dad have written.
I'm so glad it arrived before you left for school."
Charlie looked at the picture on the front of the card. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
He picked up the card and stared at it.
"Charlie, whatever is the matter?" said Maisie. "Turn it over and read the message."
But Charlie couldn't tear his gaze from the image on the front: a small sailing boat, riding the waves of an endless gray sea. It was the boat Charlie had seen in his nightmares, in the moments when he had fought off Manfred's hypnotizing stare, and glimpsed the thoughts behind those cruel black eyes.230Unable to bear the suspense, Maisie snatched the card away and read: "This is such fun, Charlie, we have decided to stay away a little longer than we had planned. A letter to Maisie will explain. I'm giving this to the captain of a passing yacht. He'll reach dry land long before we do. We think of you every day.
All our love, Mom and Dad xxx."
"Well, that's not so bad, Charlie. We'll manage, won't we? Don't look so upset."
"It's the boat." Charlie's throat was dry with fear.
"What about it?" Maisie turned the postcard over. "It's a nice little boat. I expect they've got someone to sail it for them. They wouldn't go out alone."
"It's going to sink," Charlie said with conviction.
"I've never heard such foolishness. They might not even be on this boat." Maisie jabbed a finger at the postcard. "It's just a picture, Charlie. What-ever's the matter with you?
Anyone would think you begrudged your poor parents a little bit of time together."231Charlie felt too wretched to reply. He walked out of the kitchen, went to get his bags, and left the house without even saying good-bye.
News of the "wicked weekend," as Olivia was calling it, had reached everyone who mattered in Bloor's Academy before the first break. Unfortunately, it had also reached a lot of people who didn't matter. Although Joshua, Dorcas, Dagbert, and the twins probably did matter, insofar as they made Charlie feel even worse with their sidelong smirks and snide remarks.
It all came to a head as they were filing down the corridor of portraits for lunch. Joshua sidled up to Charlie and whispered, "Where's your friend, the little white rat, Charlie?
Has he been adopted by a nice mommy rat?"
Charlie shoved Joshua backward, grunting, "Shut up, you moron!"
Joshua had legs like pins. He lost his balance at the slightest shove. Charlie's small push sent him232flying into the portrait of a rather disagreeable-looking woman. The very same woman who Dagbert had so tactlessly insulted.
This time Manfred's great-great-great-grandmother, Donatella Da Vinci, came tumbling off the wall. There was a scream of pain as the portrait landed on the already prostrate Joshua Tilpin.
"What's going on?"
Silent children parted like waves as the talents master came storming down the corridor.
When he saw the portrait of his ancestor lying across Joshua Tilpin, Manfred's mouth fell open in horror. He uttered a strangled cry and then, turning in fury, bellowed, "Who did this?" It was clear that he was more concerned with the fallen portrait than the boy underneath.
"Charlie Bone, sir." Dorcas Loom tried not to smile, but the effort was too great.
"Do you think this is funny, Dorcas Loom?" Manfred demanded.233"No, sir," answered Dorcas, instantly losing her smile.
"Someone help me!" Manfred lifted one side of the portrait.
Bragger Braine stepped forward and took the other side. A moment later, Donatella was back in place, but horror of horrors, there was a small hole above her right eyebrow. It had not been noticed while she lay on Joshua, probably because of the long wrinkle on her unforgiving forehead.
There was a chorus of gasps. Charlie caught Donatella's eye. She was cursing him in the most unpleasant language. He hoped, desperately, that he would never find himself in her century.
Manfred was turning from white to red and back again to white, all in the space of thirty seconds. Charlie didn't dare to move. He wanted to close his eyes but forced himself to keep them open while he awaited his fate.