The Silver Boy Page 6

  ‘Brilliant!’ Aladdin said.

  ‘I’ll be in touch when I’ve spoken to her,’ the priest said.

  He stood up again, a knowing smile playing around his lips. ‘Just don’t let her frighten the life out of you with her stories. She believes in ghosts and all kinds of strange things. And if she starts talking about the Silver Boy, promise me you won’t take any notice, because it’s all nonsense.’

  ‘The Silver Boy?’ Aladdin echoed in surprise.

  ‘It’s just an old tale,’ the priest said evasively.

  ‘About what?’ Aladdin persisted.

  The priest hesitated. ‘About another child who really wanted to find the silver,’ he said. ‘A child who died a very long time ago.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The priest called that very same evening. The lady who helped out in the church wasn’t very well, but would be happy to meet them the following week. This was later than Aladdin had hoped, but there was nothing he could do about it. They needed all the help they could get, and he really wanted to hear more about the Silver Boy.

  He soon had something else to think about. More food went missing from the kitchen. His parents discussed the idea of installing a camera, but it would take time to sort that out – maybe another week.

  Aladdin rang Billie and Simona.

  ‘See you at the weekend then,’ Simona said. ‘On Saturday evening. You’ll see – we’ll soon put a stop to your food thief!’

  She made it sound so simple, but Aladdin wasn’t convinced.

  However, he still couldn’t wait for Saturday. His parents were working so hard that he hardly saw them. In one way that was good; they were definitely too busy to start planning a move to Turkey.

  At last the week was over. Aladdin finished off one of his model planes while he was waiting for Billie and Simona to arrive, then he went down to the cellar to fetch the inflatable mattresses for his guests. He ran down and back up again, but this time he was left in peace; no one scared him while he was in the storeroom.

  ‘This is nice,’ his mother said when she walked past his room and saw him making up the beds. She looked very tired. ‘I’m glad you’ve got some company tonight.’ And she hurried away.

  Aladdin remembered when he was little: back then his parents had always made sure they didn’t both work at the weekends; one of them was always free to play with him. It made him sad when he thought about it; things had changed without his even noticing.

  Billie and Simona arrived at six o’clock, as agreed. As usual, Simona had brought her big rucksack, while Billie was carrying a bag full of books. What was she going to do with them? Hit the thief over the head?

  ‘When does the thief usually strike?’ she asked.

  ‘How am I supposed to know that?’ Aladdin said. ‘If I knew that, we could have caught him weeks ago.’

  ‘Right,’ Billie sighed. ‘I was just checking whether we really have to stay up all night.’

  They collected some food from the restaurant and sat down on the sofa to eat. Simona told a story about something silly her father had done; Billie laughed, but Aladdin wasn’t really listening. He just wanted the time to pass so that they could put their plan into action. At the weekend he was allowed to stay up as late as he liked, but his parents would probably be a bit surprised if they didn’t go to bed at all.

  ‘Well, of course we’re going to go to bed,’ Simona said. ‘Otherwise we’ll never cope.’

  ‘So where is the person who’s awake going to be?’ Billie wondered. ‘Upstairs in the restaurant?’

  Aladdin had given the matter some thought. The restaurant closed at ten, and by eleven his parents would have finished the cleaning and the washing-up. By then they were tired, and usually went straight to bed.

  ‘We need to wait until Mum and Dad are asleep,’ he said. ‘Then the person who’s keeping watch can sneak up to the restaurant.’

  He wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to see it through. Who wanted to sit all alone in a dark restaurant for hours on end, waiting for a thief?

  He could tell that Billie was thinking the same thing. As usual, Simona wasn’t scared of anything, but Aladdin thought she might change her mind when she was sitting there in the darkness.

  Then he had an idea.

  ‘We could sleep up there,’ he said. ‘All three of us. When Mum and Dad have gone to bed, we take our mattresses up to the restaurant. Two of us can sleep while the other one keeps watch; that means none of us will be alone.’

  Simona fiddled with the whistle she had brought with her; it was the kind that can be attached to a lifejacket, and it was incredibly loud.

  ‘That means we’d definitely hear if someone blows the whistle,’ she said.

  Which was also a good thing. It would be terrible if someone was up there all alone blowing the whistle, and no one came.

  ‘We need to be careful,’ Aladdin warned the girls. ‘We mustn’t blow the whistle unless we’re absolutely certain that the thief is there. If Mum and Dad wake up and find us in the restaurant, they’ll be furious.’

  ‘But we do have to wake them if the thief turns up?’ Billie said anxiously.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Aladdin said. ‘But not otherwise.’

  ‘What if the thief doesn’t show up?’ Simona asked.

  ‘In that case we just need to bring the mattresses back down here before Mum and Dad wake up,’ Aladdin said, leaning back on the sofa. At last they had a plan.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about those kids who might be living in Mats’s cellar,’ Simona said after a while.

  Aladdin had completely forgotten about them. There had been so many other things in his head.

  ‘Why?’ Billie said.

  Simona shook her head. ‘I don’t really know. There was something about the way they were sitting on the floor. And their clothes. I was wondering whether …’

  ‘What?’ Aladdin said.

  ‘Oh, nothing. I just thought they looked kind of lonely. Forget it – let’s concentrate on catching whoever has been stealing your food.’

  On that particular evening the restaurant stayed open longer than usual; it was eleven o’clock before Aladdin’s mother came down to say goodnight.

  ‘It’s lovely and cosy in here,’ she said as she popped into Aladdin’s room.

  All three of them were in their pyjamas, sitting up in bed. Just as if they were about to go to sleep.

  ‘Mmm,’ Aladdin said.

  His mother kissed him on the forehead, as she always did last thing at night. ‘Don’t stay awake for too long,’ she said.

  When she had gone back upstairs, they were all quiet for a little while.

  ‘I hope it won’t take them long to do the washing-up,’ Simona said with a yawn. ‘I’m really tired.’

  ‘Why don’t you go to sleep for a little while?’ Aladdin said. ‘Billie and I will wake you up when it’s time, and you can take the first shift.’

  So that was settled. It was almost midnight by the time they were sure Aladdin’s parents had gone to sleep; just to be on the safe side, he tiptoed up to their bedroom and listened outside the door.

  ‘They’re definitely asleep,’ he said to Billie when he got back.

  They woke Simona and made their way up to the restaurant. It was difficult to negotiate the narrow staircase with their mattresses, pillows and duvets. For the hundredth time Aladdin thought that keeping watch all night probably wasn’t such a good idea. What if Mum and Dad found them? Or what if the thief actually turned up? The very thought made him feel quite ill.

  Eventually they made it. They had to move several tables to make room for two mattresses; it felt very odd, lying on the floor with furniture all around them.

  ‘As long as my dad doesn’t decide to get up and check everything’s OK in the middle of the night,’ Aladdin whispered.

  ‘No chance,’ Simona whispered back. ‘Didn’t you hear him snoring when we went past their bedroom?’

  ‘You won’t fa
ll asleep, will you?’ Aladdin said to her. ‘If you feel tired, wake me or Billie.’

  ‘I will,’ Simona promised.

  ‘Who are you going to wake first?’ Billie asked, sitting up.

  ‘You. Aladdin can take the last shift and decide when it’s time to go back to his room.’

  That sounded sensible. They had to be out of the restaurant before Aladdin’s parents woke up.

  ‘You’re not scared, are you?’ Simona hissed to Billie.

  Aladdin looked over at Billie. She was as white as a sheet.

  ‘Maybe a bit,’ she whispered as she lay down.

  They didn’t want to turn on the main light, so they had brought torches. They switched them off, and the room was in darkness. That was good; the thief wouldn’t be able to see them on the floor behind all the tables.

  They agreed that the person who was keeping watch would sit in a corner right by the door. After a while their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and they could at least make out the shapes of the tables and chairs.

  ‘Is it OK to read by torchlight?’ Billie asked.

  ‘No,’ Simona said. ‘If you do that, the thief will be able to tell that there’s someone in the restaurant.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Billie closed her eyes as tightly as she could and turned over. Simona settled down in the corner.

  Aladdin lay awake for a long time, twisting and turning. He was never going to be able to get to sleep. This was far too exciting. He glanced over at Billie; she was fast asleep, her breathing slow and even. Aladdin sighed. He couldn’t hear a sound from Simona. He hoped she hadn’t nodded off.

  He sat up and looked in her direction, but he couldn’t see her. He stood up, and then he saw her. She was staring at the door and the stairs, not moving a muscle.

  He felt reassured, and lay down again. He might as well rest, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to manage his shift.

  He had barely finished forming the thought when he fell asleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aladdin was in a deep sleep, as if he’d been awake for a thousand hours.

  Billie shook him. Hard. ‘It’s your turn now,’ she whispered.

  She was so tired that Aladdin hardly had time to move before she lay down on his mattress.

  ‘Did you see anything?’ he asked.

  ‘Not a thing. Neither did Simona.’

  ‘But you did stay awake?’

  Billie felt a spurt of anger. ‘Of course I did!’

  She hesitated. ‘But it’s horrible, sitting there all alone in the dark. It’s a good job we all decided to sleep up here, otherwise I would never have stayed!’

  With that she lay down and fell asleep right away.

  Aladdin went over and sat down in the corner. From the restaurant’s location at the top of the tower, you could see the whole of Åhus. There were hardly any lights on; it looked as if the whole village was sleeping. Apart from Aladdin. It was just as Billie had said: he felt alone, even though he had company.

  Aladdin couldn’t help thinking about the boy in the short trousers. What was he up to, running around hiding in people’s cellars? Why? What did he want? Didn’t he realize that it wasn’t OK to do that kind of thing?

  He shuffled about so that he was almost lying down, leaning against the wall. It was quiet and peaceful. Actually, it wasn’t all that quiet. Aladdin kept hearing noises – from the freezer in the kitchen, from the wind whistling outside the window. He drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He didn’t know whether he wanted the thief to turn up or not. He had the whistle around his neck; if anyone came, Aladdin would blow the whistle as hard as he could.

  He tried to resist, but he could feel himself getting drowsier by the minute. The darkness didn’t exactly help; the only thing keeping him awake was fear. Several times he suddenly realized he had his eyes closed, but whenever he thought he heard a noise, he gave a start.

  ‘I have to stay awake,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I mustn’t fall asleep.’

  But eventually he lost the battle. In spite of the fact that he was as taut as a violin string, Aladdin nodded off with his head resting against the wall, the whistle around his neck.

  He dreamed that he could hear a noise. It was faint, and it only lasted for a short while. Then he heard it again; it was still faint, but it sounded as if it had moved closer. He thought it was coming from the stairs. Yes, definitely the stairs. It was the clear sound of footsteps.

  In spite of the fact that he was asleep, he started fumbling for the whistle.

  You have to wake up, he thought. Wake up, Aladdin!

  The footsteps were so light that it couldn’t possibly be Mats.

  Aladdin didn’t know whether he was awake or dreaming, but fear sent a chill down his spine.

  There was someone standing in the doorway, wasn’t there?

  Aladdin blinked, over and over again.

  Yes, there was definitely someone there.

  It was the boy in the short trousers. He stood there for a long time, staring at Aladdin.

  He was wearing exactly the same clothes as on the first two occasions when Aladdin had seen him: green trousers and a striped jumper. Long socks and boots.

  The boy looked down at the floor, a sad expression on his face.

  Aladdin’s heart was pounding.

  Then the boy spoke for the first time. ‘You have to help me,’ he whispered. ‘You have to find the silver that disappeared from the workshop.’

  Aladdin’s jaw dropped. He was incapable of making a sound.

  ‘You have to find the silver,’ the boy repeated. ‘Talk to Ella. She knows.’

  Then he vanished.

  Just as quickly as he had appeared.

  A second later, Aladdin woke with a start. Simona was shaking his arm.

  ‘You have to be the worst spy in the world,’ she said crossly.

  Billie was rushing around trying to gather all their things together. ‘We need to get back downstairs,’ she said. ‘Quickly, before your parents wake up.’

  Aladdin could hardly remember where he was; then it all came back to him and he leaped to his feet. He had dreamed about the boy. What was it he’d said? He’d talked about the silver. And about someone called Ella.

  ‘The food,’ he mumbled.

  ‘We’ve already checked,’ Billie said. ‘Nothing has been taken.’

  That was a relief. Aladdin was really ashamed of having fallen asleep. Quietly they carried the mattresses and bedding downstairs.

  Aladdin couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. His mother always said that we dream about things we’ve done or things that are on our mind, so it was hardly surprising that Aladdin had dreamed about the silver and the boy in the short trousers.

  But Ella … why had he dreamed about someone called Ella?

  And why did he recognize the name?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Billie and Simona went home after breakfast.

  ‘You all seem very tired,’ Aladdin’s mother said as they stood in the hallway putting on their coats. ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’

  They looked at one another and giggled. No, they hadn’t slept well. Billie and Simona had been teasing Aladdin because he had nodded off.

  ‘No. I don’t think any of us did,’ Simona said.

  Aladdin had no excuses; he just hadn’t been able to stay awake. He had decided not to tell them about his dream, where the boy in the short trousers had spoken and asked Aladdin for his help.

  He shook his head. A dream was a dream, and nothing else, but the fact that the boy had mentioned the name Ella stuck in his mind.

  He locked the door when Billie and Simona had left. They didn’t usually bother during the day, but Aladdin felt safer with it locked.

  As he set off up the stairs back to his room, it suddenly struck him: Ella was the old lady who had helped him and Billie when they were trying to catch the ghost in Billie’s house! Ella had lived in Åhus for a long, long time. Aladdin
felt a great wave of relief. It wasn’t so strange that Ella had turned up in his dream after all! He had been wondering whether the boy might be a ghost, and Ella was a real gossip who believed in ghosts and restless spirits.

  Aladdin sat down on the sofa and started to work on one of his model aeroplanes. He was soon interrupted by his mother.

  ‘Guess what – nothing was stolen last night,’ she said.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Who knows – maybe whoever was taking the food is full now!’ his mother said with a wink.

  ‘Maybe.’

  The thief had come almost every night over the past week. So why hadn’t he come last night, when Aladdin and his friends were keeping watch in the restaurant?

  Or perhaps he had come, and they hadn’t noticed? Perhaps he had been there when Aladdin was asleep, and had run away when he realized he wasn’t alone? Or was the boy in the short trousers the thief? Could it be that Aladdin hadn’t been dreaming after all?

  His father came into his room. ‘Maybe things are looking up,’ he said.

  Aladdin gazed at his parents. They looked so tired. Had they been working extra hard over the last week? Or was it because of their money worries? He suddenly felt very lonely. Why didn’t they tell him what was going on? Trying to guess was much, much worse.

  ‘I think we should have some fun today,’ his mother said. ‘All three of us. What do you think? What would you like to do?’

  Aladdin was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, but he made an effort to look pleased. It didn’t really work.

  ‘Aren’t you feeling well, Aladdin?’ his father said anxiously, placing a hand on his forehead.

  Aladdin twisted his head aside. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘We could drive down to Kivik,’ his mother suggested. ‘There’s a fantastic hill for sledging!’

  ‘Good idea,’ his father said. ‘We can have lunch there too.’

  Sledging was the last thing Aladdin felt like doing, but on the other hand he really wanted to get away from the tower and the restaurant for a while. His parents must have felt the same, because they were ready in no time. A few minutes later they were in the car. His father switched on the radio as his mother pulled out of the car park. The local news was on, and the newsreader was talking about the refugee boat in the harbour.