Charlie Bone and the Castle of Mirrors. Jenny Nimmo

said Billy.

      ‘Maybe you could talk to it anyway,’ Charlie suggested.

      Billy stared at Charlie through the thick round lenses of his spectacles. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. He jumped down from the bed and resumed his packing. The small pile of clothes laid out on the bed only half filled the large suitcase.

      ‘I haven’t got any more. That’s it.’ Billy closed the suitcase and heaved it on to the floor.

      ‘Nothing else?’ Charlie was concerned. Where were Billy’s toys, books, games, trainers, weekend clothes? At home the cupboard in Charlie’s room was packed with stuff. Was this all that Billy owned in the world?

      ‘There is something else.’ Billy pulled a plastic bag from his bedside cabinet and emptied it on the bed. As well as the five small books that Cook had given him, there was a pack of cards, a small one-eared bear, and something wrapped in yellowing tissue paper.

      ‘The Bloors usually give me food for presents,’ said Billy, carefully unfolding the tissue paper, ‘so most of my possessions have been eaten.’ He gave a sheepish grin. ‘But I kept these.’ He peeled back the last piece of tissue, revealing four white candles. ‘I found them in my aunt’s cupboard before I was sent to Bloor’s. Her dog told me they came with a birthday cake, but she never put them on the cake, and I never knew who sent it to me.’

      Charlie stared at the four candles lying in Billy’s hand. Each one looked as though it had been made from a coiled feather. The delicate wax filaments curved round the candles in spirals that made them appear mysterious and magical.

      ‘I never lit them,’ said Billy softly.

      ‘I can see that.’ Charlie screwed up his eyes and bent closer to the candles. ‘I wonder who sent them.’

      ‘I wish I knew.’ Billy carefully folded the candles into the tissue paper and slipped them in his pocket.

      It was just as well that he did, because the next minute, Lucretia Yewbeam marched into the dormitory and began to examine Billy’s packing.

      ‘This is a mess,’ she said, throwing everything out on to the floor. ‘Fold your clothes properly, Billy Raven. Your new parents won’t accept slipshod packing.’

      ‘Who are Billy’s new parents?’ asked Charlie.

      ‘None of your business,’ snapped his great-aunt.

      ‘But it is Billy’s business,’ argued Charlie. ‘He only knows their name, not where they’re from, or if they’ve got a family, or if they live . . .’

      ‘You don’t need to know these things,’ said the Matron. ‘Billy will know soon enough. Now brush your hair before supper, boy. You look as though you’ve just crawled out of bed.’

      Charlie gave a grunt of disgust. Trust Lucretia Yewbeam to mention his hair. She’d probably guessed that he’d forgotten to pack his hairbrush.

      When the matron had gone, Charlie helped Billy to repack his suitcase. Not that it looked any neater the second time around.

      ‘It’ll have to do,’ said Billy cheerfully. ‘Just think, I’ve got a home to go to!’

      Charlie wondered if the small boy was as happy as he sounded. That night Billy thrashed about in his sheets. Starting a new life with unknown parents was not exactly any everyday occurrence.