The Silver Boy Read online

  ‘We had to wait until he’d gone back in,’ Aladdin said.

  ‘At least you know he’s lying now,’ Simona said. ‘He certainly wasn’t away.’

  ‘We need to tell your parents,’ Billie said to Aladdin.

  ‘It can wait until tomorrow. Let’s see if any food goes missing tonight – otherwise I don’t think Mum and Dad will be all that bothered about why Mats was lying.’

  They took off their outdoor clothes and hung them up in the hallway. The house was lovely and warm. No one was home, but there was a note on the kitchen table:

  ‘Is Josef here often?’ Simon asked.

  Billie shrugged. ‘Sometimes. Pretty often, I suppose.’

  ‘Is he going to move in?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Billie said. ‘I don’t think that’s what Mum wants. Not yet.’

  Billie’s father had died just over a year ago. Aladdin had never said anything to Billie, but he couldn’t think of anything worse than his mum being with someone other than his dad. Not even if his dad died.

  ‘Josef’s cool,’ he said, mainly for the sake of something to say.

  He really did think Josef was cool. And he was a police officer, which also made him cool in Aladdin’s eyes.

  Billie went and fetched some juice from the kitchen. It was her grandmother who made the juice for her. Aladdin’s grandmother never made juice. Just meatballs.

  ‘What are you going to do tonight?’ Simona asked.

  Billie and Aladdin looked at one another.

  ‘Tonight?’ Billie said.

  ‘Well, yes – you’ve got to try and expose Mats once and for all,’ Simona said, looking at Aladdin. ‘Catch him stealing so that you can prove to your mum and dad that he’s the thief.’

  Aladdin hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘I think it’s enough that we know he was lying,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if any food goes missing tonight before we do anything else.’

  Simona frowned. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay up all night to see what happens?’ she said.

  Billie looked doubtful. ‘I don’t think I could stay awake that long.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Aladdin said.

  His father had tried to stay awake for the whole night in order to catch the thief, but it hadn’t gone too well. He’d fallen asleep after just a few hours, and in the morning more food had disappeared. The following night his mother had stayed up, but she had nodded off even earlier than his father.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake – you don’t need to be awake at the same time,’ Simona groaned. ‘Think about it. Aladdin takes the first half of the night, then it’s Billie’s turn. Or vice versa.’

  Billie didn’t seem very keen on staying up half the night all on her own in the old tower. Aladdin felt the same.

  ‘Well, what if we split the night into three?’ Simona suggested. ‘I could help you.’

  After what had just happened in Mats’s garden, Aladdin wasn’t at all sure about this idea. What if everything went wrong again?

  ‘We could use a whistle,’ Billie said slowly. ‘The person who’s awake has a whistle around their neck, and if anyone comes along, we blow it.’

  ‘What do we tell Mum and Dad?’ Aladdin wondered.

  ‘They don’t need to know,’ Simona said firmly. ‘Just tell them Billie and I are coming for a sleepover.’

  Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. They had already talked about a sleepover, but hadn’t got round to it yet.

  ‘OK,’ Aladdin said. ‘But not today. Let’s see if any more food goes missing over the next week or so; if it does, we’ll have to try and keep watch one night.’

  ‘Cool!’ Simona said. ‘Well, no, obviously it’s not cool, but it is exciting.’

  Billie laughed, but Aladdin didn’t. He was hoping that no more food would be stolen; he really didn’t want to stay up, whether it was for the whole night or half the night.

  ‘Something else occurred to me,’ Billie said. ‘Has food never gone missing before?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, it sounds as if this started a couple of weeks ago. Has it never happened before?’

  ‘No,’ Aladdin said. ‘That is weird. Why didn’t the thief take his chances before we sold the house and moved in?’

  He tried to remember how long Mats had been working in the restaurant; it had to be several years. Why had he only started stealing food now?

  Perhaps his parents were right; maybe the boy he had seen was a refugee, and he was the thief. The food had started to disappear around the time the boat arrived.

  ‘By the way, why did you go round the back of Mats’s house?’ he asked Simona.

  ‘I wanted to look through the windows to see if he was there.’

  Billie almost choked on her juice. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said.

  ‘And did you see anything?’ Aladdin wanted to know.

  Simona twirled one of her long curls around her finger. ‘No. Just two kids.’

  Now it was Aladdin’s turn to choke on his juice. ‘What do you mean, kids?’

  ‘Kids – ordinary kids.’

  Aladdin shook his head. ‘But that can’t be right,’ he said. ‘Mats doesn’t have any children.’

  ‘They might not be his,’ Simona said. ‘Maybe they’re just visiting.’

  Aladdin thought hard. ‘Did you see any adults in the house?’

  ‘No, just the kids.’

  ‘How old were they?’ Billie asked.

  Simona tilted her head on one side and considered the question. ‘About our age, I guess.’

  ‘What were they doing? Were they watching TV?’ Aladdin wondered.

  ‘I don’t know. It was hard to see; the room was quite dark.’

  ‘Dark?’ Billie echoed.

  ‘I saw them through one of the cellar windows. It looked as if they were sitting on the floor doing something – eating, maybe.’ Simona reached for another biscuit. ‘I didn’t really think about what they were doing, but I remember thinking they looked a bit … different. Their clothes weren’t like ours.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Aladdin said.

  ‘They looked kind of old. Perhaps they were hand-me-downs.’

  Aladdin sat there in silence for a while. So there were two children in Mats’s house. Two children he had never mentioned. Wearing strange clothes. But what puzzled Aladdin most was why they were sitting in the cellar, in a room that was ‘quite dark’. It almost seemed as if they were hiding.

  Chapter Seven

  The restaurant was packed when Aladdin got home. Customers didn’t usually turn up until later in the day, but now that it was winter, people seemed to like the idea of having dinner in the afternoon. He couldn’t understand why his parents were having financial problems; the place was always busy.

  Aladdin was still thinking about the children Simona had seen in the cellar, but most of all he was thinking about the fact that Mats had lied. He hadn’t been visiting his mother at all. The question was, should he tell his parents right away? They wouldn’t like the idea that Aladdin had been spying on Mats. Perhaps it was best to keep quiet about what they had been up to for a while longer.

  He crept up to the kitchen. His parents didn’t notice him as he pushed open the door. They were in the middle of a discussion, and they both looked angry.

  ‘I think it’s a terrible idea!’ his mother said in a voice that Aladdin didn’t recognize.

  ‘Well, you come up with something better!’ his father snapped.

  ‘I already have! I want us to stay here and keep on fighting. We’re not the only people in this country with financial problems right now, and it certainly wouldn’t be any easier if we moved back to Turkey!’

  Aladdin was so shocked that he forgot all about Mats. This was a hundred times worse. Move back to Turkey! He couldn’t believe his ears. He never, ever wanted to leave Åhus.

  His father reached out and stroked his mother’s arm. Both of them looked sad now.

  ‘I’m just saying
it’s an option we need to consider,’ he said, sounding much calmer. ‘We have to be realistic; we’ve got Aladdin to think about as well.’

  Thank goodness – at least nothing had been decided. Not yet.

  Aladdin quickly slipped out of the kitchen before they saw him. His heart was pounding so hard that it almost hurt. How short of money were they? He couldn’t remember his parents ever talking about moving back to Turkey. What on earth would they do there? After all, they’d left in the first place because they didn’t have a good life.

  Aladdin ran down the stairs and took several deep breaths. He must keep an eye on his parents in future; they’d obviously been lying to him. Lying or not telling him the whole truth.

  When he had calmed down, he went back up to the kitchen, trying to look as if he’d only just arrived home.

  His mother was kneading dough; her face lit up when she saw him. ‘Hello, sweetheart – have you had a good day?’ she said.

  ‘Yup,’ Aladdin replied as he went over and stood beside her. ‘What are you making?’

  ‘Tear-and-share loaves; there were none left when we came in this morning.’

  So the thief liked bread too.

  Aladdin’s mother put her arm around him, getting flour on his jumper. ‘Tomorrow we’re going to do something really nice,’ she said. ‘All three of us.’

  The restaurant was closed on Sundays; Aladdin liked that. Things were much quieter.

  His mother sighed. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘The bulb’s gone in the task light on my worktop. Could you run down to the cellar and fetch me a new one?’

  Aladdin really wanted to go to his room to work on his latest model aeroplane. ‘Can’t you manage with the ceiling light?’ he said.

  ‘Not when I’m baking. I need to be able to see what I’m adding to the dough. Please, sweetheart?’

  ‘All right,’ Aladdin said reluctantly.

  His mother stroked his face, covering his cheek with flour as well. ‘You’re such a good boy,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Mum!’

  She laughed. ‘It’s only a bit of flour, for goodness’ sake!’

  Aladdin wiped his cheek; a floury face wasn’t a good look. He was just about to leave the kitchen when his mother stopped him.

  ‘By the way, have you seen any more of that boy you mentioned?’ She wasn’t laughing now.

  Aladdin shuffled uncomfortably. He really didn’t want to talk about the boy. What if his mother mentioned the missing food? In that case he might have to tell her that he and Billie and Simona had been spying on Mats.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I haven’t seen him since this morning.’

  ‘When you ran outside in your socks?’

  Aladdin blushed and nodded. He was embarrassed when he thought about how he had rushed out into the snow. It was definitely time to go down and fetch a light bulb, before his mother said any more.

  He was just about to leave when he caught sight of the newspaper lying on the worktop. The leading article on the front page was about the refugee boat; the headline read: STILL NO PROSPECT OF A SOLUTION. But it was something else that had attracted his attention – a smaller article down below.

  THE SILVER THAT DISAPPEARED, said the headline. Aladdin quickly read on:

  Today it is exactly one hundred years since a bolt of lightning struck Larsson the silversmith’s workshop in Åhus, and a quantity of silver was stolen. This silver has never been recovered. The question of who took it remains a mystery.

  His father came into the kitchen before he had time to read any further.

  ‘Leya, table three have changed their minds – they want the fish instead of the meatballs,’ he said.

  He opened the fridge and stuck his head inside. Aladdin’s mother went over to help him, and they stood there jostling each other and laughing. They certainly didn’t look cross any more. Aladdin’s father had a special laugh that he only used when Mum was around. Billie had once said that Aladdin’s parents seemed to be very much in love. He assumed that was a good thing – to be in love for such a long time. His mum and dad had known one another for ever.

  They were so caught up with each other that they didn’t notice Aladdin slip out of the kitchen. That business about moving back to Turkey must just have been something his father had come out with on the spur of the moment.

  Chapter Eight

  Aladdin ran all the way down the stairs, but when he reached the cellar door, he hesitated. He really didn’t like going in there. But what could he do? Run back upstairs and ask his mum to come with him? No chance. And he was too old to be scared of going into the cellar on his own.

  And anyway, how dangerous could it be?

  He opened the door and set off down the steps. That was when he realized he’d forgotten to bring the torch. There was a ceiling light, but sometimes it switched itself off. His father had tried to fix it, but without success; the answer was to take a torch whenever you went down to the cellar.

  Damn. Was he going to have to go all the way back up to the kitchen?

  He looked up at the ceiling light. So far it seemed to be working perfectly well.

  ‘I’ve got to stop being so scared,’ he muttered to himself as he went down the last few steps.

  Where on earth were the light bulbs? The cellar was quite large, and Aladdin edged his way carefully along. Why did his parents keep so much stuff? Wouldn’t it be better to get rid of it? Or give it to someone who might like it? What was the point of having a cellar full of things you never used?

  Besides which, the fact that the cellar was packed with all this rubbish made it much darker.

  I’ll just grab the light bulb, he thought; then I’ll get out of here.

  He picked up two large boxes that he thought might contain light bulbs. They didn’t. Nor did the bags on the floor under one of the shelves.

  Aladdin was just about to move another big box out of the way so that he could get past when he heard a noise behind him. It sounded as if someone was coming down the steps. The box slipped out of his hands and he whirled round.

  There was no one there. ‘Hello?’ he said.

  No reply.

  Total silence.

  Aladdin was really frightened now. If he could just find a light bulb, he would run back up to his room. He had no intention of setting foot in the cellar again for a very long time.

  He picked up the box once more and moved it to one side; took a few steps and shifted another box. His hands were trembling and slippery with sweat.

  There. Behind a large mirror on sturdy wooden legs was a shelf, and he could see several boxes of light bulbs. He tried to reach past the mirror, but annoyingly his arms weren’t quite long enough. He would have to move the mirror.

  He didn’t have much time. He was sure he had heard someone coming down the steps. Someone who might still be in the cellar.

  The mirror was big and heavy and covered in dust. Aladdin positioned himself in front of it so that he could get a good grip on the frame. It scraped against the floor as he dragged it out of the way.

  At last! The light bulbs were within reach.

  Just as he was about to pick one up, he happened to glance in the mirror. At first he saw only himself, but then he looked again and felt his heart stop.

  Because the boy in the short trousers was standing behind him.

  Aladdin let out a yell.

  At which point the ceiling light switched itself off, and everything went black.

  Chapter Nine

  The darkness was like a thick blanket in front of Aladdin’s eyes. He couldn’t see a thing. All he could hear was his own rapid breathing. He had never been so scared in his entire life.

  He didn’t move a muscle. He waited and waited. His mum and dad would soon miss him; start wondering where he’d gone. If only they’d hurry up!

  He couldn’t hear a sound from the boy. What was he doing? Was he just standing there staring at Aladdin?
/>   Aladdin opened his mouth to say something, but it was as if the fear had paralysed his throat. He tried a silent cough, which helped a bit.

  ‘What do you want?’ he said quietly, his voice trembling. ‘Who are you?’

  No reply.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ Aladdin said, a little louder this time. ‘I saw you in the mirror.’

  His entire body was shaking as he turned round in the darkness. The boy still hadn’t spoken.

  If only he’d brought the torch. Aladdin swallowed hard several times. He was on the verge of tears. He tried putting both arms straight out in front of him; there was no one there.

  He didn’t dare start walking; what if he fell over some of the boxes and hurt himself? Suddenly he heard a crash at the other end of the room, and his heart leaped into his mouth. The boy must have knocked something over.

  The ceiling light crackled, flashed a few times, then came back on. Aladdin was so relieved that he almost had to sit down. Instead he straightened up and looked around. There was no sign of the boy in the short trousers.

  Aladdin had had enough. He raced up the cellar steps so fast that he didn’t notice that someone else was halfway down.

  He screamed in terror as he cannoned into a solid body.

  ‘What on earth are you doing, Aladdin?’

  It was only his dad.

  Aladdin was so pleased to see him that he threw his arms around his neck. ‘I … I …’ he began, then hesitated. Should he tell his dad, or not? He might think Aladdin was making the whole thing up.

  His dad stroked Aladdin’s back, looking quite worried. He didn’t usually get a big hug like this from his son these days.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs and have a chat,’ he said.

  Aladdin felt much better now that the light was on and he wasn’t alone. He looked all around, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘I thought I saw the boy in the short trousers,’ he said. ‘You know, the boy I saw outside the restaurant.’

  His father raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Your mum searched the tower earlier on, and she didn’t find him. But perhaps he came in later?’