Charlie didn't like to burst in on Cook unannounced, so he knocked politely on the closet door.
There was a shuffling noise behind the door and then it was opened, just a crack.
"Shoot me," said Cook, peering out at Charlie. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry Cook," said Charlie. "But . . ."
Behind him, Gabriel gave a low moan.
Cook opened the door a little wider. She was wearing her red bathrobe. "Shivering cats," she said. "Who on earth is this?"
"Gabriel Silk," Charlie told her. "He's had a sort of accident with a glove."
" Tch! Tch! You'd better come in."
Charlie led his friend through the closet and Gabriel looked around Cook's secret room in amazement. "What a lovely place," he said.
Cook made him sit down and examined his gloved hand, while Charlie told her how he'd found the glove, and how poor Gabriel had an unfortunate talent for experiencing other people's feelings, when he wore their clothes.
" Hm," muttered Cook. "That's Dorothy's glove."
"Dorothy's?" said Charlie.
"It's the dark lady's," said Gabriel. "She haunts the music tower. I've seen her. She had her fingers broken in a door."
Cook nodded. "That's what you call her, do you? the dark lady Well, I'll have you know that the dark lady is Mrs. Bloor."
"What? Manfred's mother?" said Charlie. "I thought she was — well, dead."
"So do most people," said Cook. "Poor thing. She lives a terrible half-life. When Manfred crushed her fingers, she gave up. Faded away so to speak. She comes down to my little room, now and again, and we talk. But she's a sad, sad creature."
"Too right she is," said Gabriel. "This glove makes me feel so miserable I could do myself in."
"Now then, we'll have none of that talk," Cook said sternly "We'll have that glove off you in no time. Mind you, the only person who can do it is the owner of the glove."
"Why's that?" asked Charlie.
"It's just the way it is. Musician's hands are very special. There's a lot of feeling in that glove, and I can see that it's really made itself at home on your skin, Gabriel."
"I'd rather not lose any skin, if you don't mind," said Gabriel. "I'm a bit squeamish."
"Endowed children were a lot more stoical in my day," Cook remarked as she ambled across the room. "I'll fetch Dorothy." She opened the door of a small corner closet and the boys caught sight of a narrow stairway before Cook squeezed herself into the closet and closed the door.
They heard the soft tap of footsteps behind the wall, and then over their heads. For a plump person Cook was surprisingly light-footed.
"What a place," Gabriel murmured, gazing around at the bright pictures and gleaming antique furniture. “You'd never guess that all this was right under that gloomy old building."
"Never," agreed Charlie. "Mind you, I think part of it must be under the city You can see the sky through that window." He nodded at the small window in the ceiling.
Gabriel turned to look at the skylight. "So what's up there?" he said.
Charlie shrugged. "Who knows? Someone's garden. A road." He was wondering what had happened to Henry Had Cook sent him back through time? Had he run away?
Soft footfalls overhead told them that Cook was returning with someone who walked with a peculiar shuffling sound.
A few moments later, the door to the closet opened, and Cook came in, followed by a small woman in a long, shapeless, black dress. A dark shawl covered her head so her face could hardly be seen; she walked with her head bent as though she were searching the ground.
"Now Dorothy you sit here, dear!" Cook pushed a chair close to Gabriel's. "This is Gabriel, and he seems to have gotten himself stuck into your glove."
Dorothy looked at Gabriel's limp hand, and then she stared at Charlie. Her shawl fell to her shoulders, revealing long gray hair and a pale face with two gray eyes in deep dark sockets.” And who is this?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"I'm Charlie Bone," said Charlie. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bloor."
"Oh?" said the faint little voice. "So you're Charlie. I know . . . I knew . . ."
Mrs. Bloor appeared to have forgotten what she knew or had known, for she turned her attention back to Gabriel and said, "Poor boy You play the piano, don't you? I like to listen. I'll do my best for you, but I can only use one of my hands. The other has been cursed, you see."
The boys gasped in horror.
"Who cursed you?" breathed Charlie.
Mrs. Bloor just shook her head. With her right hand she began to peel the leather glove away from Gabriel's wrist. It took a long time, and after a while, in a light trembling voice, Mrs. Bloor began to tell them her story.
Dorothy de Vere had been a very talented violinist. Soon after she inherited a large fortune from her aunt, Dr. Harold Bloor had courted her. They were married within a year and Dorothy gave him half her fortune. And then her troubles began. Her son, Manfred, hated all forms of music. He screamed when she picked up her violin. She only dared play in a room where no one could hear her. Old Ezekiel Bloor demanded that she hand over the rest of her fortune. She refused. On her father's advice she had put it in a secret bank account in Switzerland. Nothing would make her hand it over. She was deeply unhappy in the gloomy academy and planned to leave it.
"They did terrible things to people," she murmured, "and I couldn't stand it. One day one wild, stormy day . . ." Her voice grew so faint they couldn't hear it, and then she stopped altogether, and it was Cook who told them what had happened. There was a violent thunderstorm and hoping the noise would cover the sound of her departure, Dorothy had packed her bag.
"She had been about to leave her room, when Manfred looked in. “You can't go,' he had snarled. 'We won't let you. Not until you've signed over the money.'
"Once again, Dorothy had refused. Manfred said he'd lock her in her room. Dorothy put her hand on the doorframe to stop him, and he slammed the door — crack — on her fingers."
Mrs. Bloor's head drooped. She shuddered. "Tell them, tell them," she murmured. "Tell Charlie Bone."
"She fainted, poor thing," Cook went on. "When she came to, she was on her bed. Old Ezekiel was sitting beside her. He'd soaked her injured fingers in one of his vile potions. He told her she'd never play her violin again. Never leave here. As far as they were concerned, she didn't exist, so she might as well give them the money."
"But I didn't," whispered Dorothy "I never will." She had peeled the glove back, so that Gabriel's fingers could now be seen. With a light tug, she pulled it right off.
"Phew!" said Gabriel, shaking his hand. "It feels OK. It really does. Thanks!"
"I'm glad, so glad," murmured Mrs. Bloor.
Charlie was relieved but anxious to get back to the dormitory before Billy "I think we'd better go now;" he said. "But, Cook, where's — you know who?"
"Fast asleep," said Cook.
Charlie looked around the room. There was no sign of a bed.
Cook laughed. "I have other rooms," she said, "and I’ve got a very nice bathroom and toilet, but I'm not showing you around tonight. Off you go, both of you."
"But I'll be going home tomorrow;" said Charlie. “How am I going to get Henry out?"
"I'm afraid there won't be a chance," said Cook. “And perhaps it's better that those Yewbeam sisters don't see him. We'll have to have a good long think about Henry's future."
She seemed to know a lot about Charlie's family.
Charlie and Gabriel said good night to the two women and, before they left, Gabriel did something rather surprising. He seized Mrs. Bloor's injured hand and kissed it. Mrs. Bloor smiled for the first time that night. It changed her face completely.
Charlie turned away in embarrassment. Gabriel really was a most peculiar person. "By the way" he said to Cook, "the flashlight you gave me — it's magic or something, isn't it? It showed me things I've never seen before."
"That was you, Charlie, as well as the flashlight. And there'll be more."
>
As the boys made their way back to the dormitory, Gabriel asked, "Who is this mysterious Henry?"
In a deep whisper, Charlie told the amazed Gabriel about Henry and the Time Twister. He knew he could trust him.
They reached the dormitory without any mishaps and, luckily just a few minutes before Billy Raven came back from his midnight ramble.
In the morning Gabriel handed Charlie a slip of paper. "It's my address," he said. "Don't forget we're going to the Thunder House to see Tancred."
Charlie showed the paper to Fidelio. " D'you want to come?" he asked.
" Hail Road, The Heights," said Fidelio, reading the address. "How are we going to get there?"
"I'll think of something," said Charlie.
He spent the rest of the day trying to get a message to his cousin before the weekend. Twice Manfred found him hovering outside the cafeterias. The second time he threatened Charlie with detention, and though Charlie was tempted to chance it, he knew Tancred's problem was more urgent. The stormy boy's absence was having a strange effect, especially in the King's room. In the King's room the empty seat next to Lysander was like a cold, airless hole. It stole their energy and made some of the endowed children shiver. They lost their appetites and couldn't think straight. This happened to Charlie, Lysander, and Gabriel. Even Emma complained that she felt ill.
Manfred, Asa, and Zelda, and even Billy Raven sailed through their homework and bounced their way to meals and lessons with energy and enthusiasm.
Something had to be done.
At the end of the day as everyone trooped out through the main doors, Charlie caught sight of Olivia and Bindi on the stairs. He gave them a guilty wave, but Olivia was looking very excited. He hoped she wouldn't do anything too dangerous.
The blue bus dropped Charlie off at the top of Filbert Street and, as he made his way to number nine, Benjamin and Runner Bean came rushing up to greet him.
"It's been such a boring week," sighed Benjamin "What did you do?"
As they walked home together, Charlie told Benjamin everything that had happened.
"You lead a very interesting life, Charlie," Benjamin commented, "but I think I'd rather be me."
"I don't have a choice," said Charlie. "I've just got to do the best I can to survive it all."
The front door opened before he'd had time to ring the bell, and Maisie pulled him inside with a violent tug. "Tea's ready" she said, dragging him toward the kitchen, "all your favorites. Yours, too, Benjamin. Come along. And I've got a nice bone for Runner Bean."
The boys had just sat down to enjoy Maisie's wonderful spread when Grandma Bone walked in. You could tell right away that she was going to spoil Charlie's appetite.
"What's this?" she said, slamming the photo of Henry beside Charlie's plate.
“An old photo," said Charlie. Grandma Bone had evidently been snooping in Uncle Paton's room.
“And what happened to it?" she demanded.
"It fell off the wall when you slammed the door."
That was the wrong thing to have said to his grandmother.
"I slammed the door? Me? You broke the glass, Charlie Bone, and you didn't confess."
"He brought it straight in here," said Maisie hotly. “And it wasn't his fault."
"It was my frame, my glass," said Grandma Bone. "I should have been told. But let that pass. It's this boy I'm interested in." She planted a bony finger on Henry's face. "You've seen him, haven't you?"
"Of course I haven't," said Charlie. "That photo's ancient. He must be a hundred years old."
Benjamin was digging into a plate of ham sandwiches. He kept his head well down, not daring to look at Charlie.
"I have it on good authority that Henry Yewbeam is about again," Grandma Bone said in a chilly voice, "and that you have seen him."
So the dog has told Billy, thought Charlie. And Billy has passed on the news, to Grandma's sister, Matron Yewbeam, or to Manfred.
“You're being silly Grizelda," said Maisie. "Charlie's been locked away in that horrible old academy all week. How could he have seen the fellow unless he was a ghost, of course. "
"Keep your nose out of this!" barked Grandma Bone.
"And you keep your nose out of Charlie's tea," Maisie shouted, rolling up her sleeves.
Arguments at number nine nearly always started this way The pattern was familiar to Charlie. He just wished it hadn't happened quite so soon after he'd come home. He followed Benjamin's example and grabbed a sandwich. Benjamin grinned at Charlie across the table, and Charlie grimaced back. They managed to get quite a lot of food inside themselves while the grandmas insulted each other over their heads. Runner Bean added to the noise with long anxious howls. He hated arguments.
When the shouting match was over, Grandma Bone, shaking with fury said, "Don't think I'm going to let this matter rest." She marched out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.
"Well," said Maisie. "That was fun, wasn't it?"
"I wouldn't say it was fun exactly" said Charlie. "I've had a rather tiring week."
"Grandma Bone is going crazy" grumbled Maisie. "As if you'd seen a boy who must be a hundred years old."
"Not quite a hundred," Charlie said without thinking.
"Oh?" The truth dawned on Maisie. "I see. You've had peculiar things happening to you, have you?"
"It happened to Henry not me," said Charlie, reaching for a slice of cake.
"This is a great meal, Mrs. Jones," Benjamin said quickly.
"It's all right," said Maisie. "My lips are sealed, certainly where your other grandma is concerned."
The two boys managed to finish their tea in peace, and then went up to Charlie's room. Runner Bean came bounding after them. Grandma Bone had been so angry she'd forgotten to remind Charlie that dogs weren't allowed in bedrooms.
When Benjamin had helped Charlie unpack his bag, the boys sat on the bed while Runner squeezed in behind them. Charlie told Benjamin of the plan to visit the Thunder House. He wondered if Benjamin's mom would take them up there.
Benjamin shook his head. "Mom's working on an important case at the moment. A really gruesome murder. She'll be out till late on Saturday So will Dad."
Benjamin's parents were private detectives. They worked very odd hours and Benjamin often had to cook his own meals.
"I thought your mom promised to stay home a bit more often," said Charlie.
"She has," said Benjamin. "She's been at home all week, but then yesterday this case came up and it was so interesting, she just couldn't refuse it."
" Hm. I'll have to think of someone else then," said Charlie. "There's always Uncle Paton."
"But he wouldn't take us till it was dark, would he?" said Benjamin. "I don't like going up to the Heights in the dark. Especially to a place where you might get struck by lightning or something."
Charlie had to agree. Still it was worth a chance. When Benjamin had gone home, Charlie knocked on his uncle's door.
There was no answer. Charlie wondered if his uncle had gone out. It was now very dark. At that moment, his mother came in and Charlie ran down to greet her. She'd brought a bag of moldy eggplants home with her.
Maisie was very pleased. "They're only half moldy,” she said, spreading the eggplants across the kitchen table. "We'll make a nice ratathingy."
Charlie hoped she didn't mean anything with rats in it. With Maisie anything was possible. He decided he'd rather not know "Have you seen Uncle Paton lately?" he asked.
"Very little," said his mom. "Poor Uncle Paton. He was getting very fond of Julia Ingledew ; and now she has no time for him at all. She spends the whole week preparing for Emma to come home, and then devotes her entire weekend to the girl. They visit museums and castles and talk a great deal about books, apparently. She's shut poor Paton out altogether."
"That's tough," said Charlie. "So he's in right now.”
Charlie went upstairs and tapped on his uncle's door again.
"What?" said an angry voice.
Char
lie opened the door and looked in. The mess in his uncle's room was even worse than usual. There was also a very bad smell. Perhaps Paton had hidden a few unfinished meals under his bed.
"Can I talk to you?" asked Charlie meekly.
"If you must," murmured Paton. He was studying a book and didn't look up.
When he'd managed to reach Paton's desk without knocking anything over, Charlie said, "I've met that boy. The one in the photo. Your dad's brother."
"What?" Paton's head shot up. "Tell me more."
Charlie told him about the Time Twister and Henry's strange arrival. When he began to describe his part in the freezer experiment, however, Paton roared, "You did what?"
"He wanted to go back," said Charlie, "and I had to help him."
"You stupid, stupid boy" thundered his uncle. "People can't go back. You can't change history Think about it! When my father was five years old, he lost his brother. It changed his life. He became an only child, grew up as an only child. All his memories are of being an only one. You can't change that now can you?"
"No," Charlie said quickly "I'm sorry"
His uncle hadn't finished. "Henry's parents mourned him, just as they mourned poor little Daphne. James was their only child and, as a result, he was probably spoiled. His father died and his mother left everything to him, including her lovely cottage by the sea. You can't change that, can you?"
Charlie sighed. "No," he said. And then he had an idea. "Would your father like to see Henry again?"
Paton's angry expression gradually changed. Charlie could almost see thoughts chasing each other across his uncle's face.
"Now there's a thought," said Paton as if he'd suddenly found the right one.
"So what d'you think?" asked Charlie.
"I don't think anything yet," said Paton. "You'll have to leave me to ponder."
Charlie judged that now would be the right time to ask his uncle a favor. But when he mentioned going up to the Heights to visit the Thunder House, he didn't get the answer he'd hoped for.
"Ha!" said Paton. "I'm not going anywhere near those storm people. It's useless to meddle with them when they're in a mood. I strongly advise you not to try."