How Ali Ferguson Saved Houdini (2 page)

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Chapter 2

Ali pushed the door open. The wind hit him first. A roaring wind that whipped his hood back and stole his breath away. This was the true summit of the mountain. He stepped out. Icy gusts swirled around him, straight from the snowcapped peaks of the Himalayas.

He raised his head, fighting the elements, tears swimming in his eyes.

He was standing right in the middle of the roof! Right on the very top of Lever Tower.

If only Dad could see this.

The thought came suddenly, from nowhere.

The pain was sharper and colder than the wind. Three postcards ago, Dad had been planning a trip to the Himalayas. Ali didn't know if he'd ever got there. He hadn't said in the next two cards.

Ali rubbed his eyes fiercely. Today was the start of something new. He could imagine he was on Everest if he wanted, and it had
nothing to do with Dad
.

He ran towards the edge of the tower, leaned against the barrier and looked out at the kingdom below. The homes of the mountain villagers were like toy houses; the few people he could make out were like bugs – no, even smaller, like fleas. He could see the fields where they grew their crops, the park and the great city beyond. Well, the allotments and the town, anyway.

Cutting through it all was the river, shining and winking in the low sunlight as it moved past the warehouses towards the sea. The sea! He should be able to see it from the other side of the tower!

He raced around the concrete block that housed the doorway and the lift machinery, right to the opposite side of the roof. Below, the river flowed into the sea, about a mile away. He could see the docks huddled along the coast, and the water, hanging below the sky in a dark grey strip. A red cargo ship travelled along the horizon. The wind was at his back now, as though it could lift him off and blow him, like a seagull, over the waves.

‘Hey!'

The voice came from behind him. He turned slowly. There, sheltering out of the wind in the shadow of the concrete block, was the girl he had seen earlier. And her huge dog. He had found them after all! Ali grinned. Up close, he could see that the girl must be about the same age as him. She had straggly blonde hair pulled back off her face. She was frowning. The dog stood up.

‘Hello,' he said. ‘Nice dog.'

The girl didn't answer.

‘What's his name?' Ali asked.

‘She's not a
him
. She's a
her
.'

‘Oh.' So the natives were not friendly. Ali smiled at the girl. ‘Is she yours?' he asked. He stepped closer, holding his hands out so that the dog could smell him if she wanted to.

Ali didn't think the girl was going to speak. Then she sighed dramatically. ‘A bit yes and a bit no.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘We're looking after her. Me and Dad. While her real owner is away.'

Ali edged closer. The dog sniffed the air, then wagged her tail. Ali laid his hand gently on her back and started stroking. Her fur was soft and warm. ‘What's her name?' he asked.

‘Falcon.'

‘That's a cool name for a mountain dog,' Ali said.

‘What?'

‘Oh. Nothing. I was just pretending that I was climbing a mountain. Like Tenzing Norgay.'

‘Who?'

Ali shrugged. ‘I was just playing. What's your name?'

The girl sniffed. ‘Caitlin. Caitlin Mary O'Connor.'

‘I'm Ali. Ali Desai Ferguson. I've just moved here with my mum.'

‘Desai?' Caitlin struggled to pronounce it. ‘And I thought Tenz-whatever-it-was was a daft name. Where are you from? Pakistan?'

‘No. My mum was born in Blackpool. I've never even been on holiday abroad.'

‘Oh.' Caitlin paused. ‘I went to France once. It was brilliant.'

Ali grinned. ‘But my grandpa is Indian. Came here ages ago and met Nan.'

‘And then you were born and moved here. Lucky us.'

Ali smiled. ‘I like it here. I think it's exciting. Don't you?'

The girl shrugged. ‘Sometimes. Just now, it's . . . odd. What floor do you live on?'

‘The fourth. Flat 22. What do you mean, “odd”?' Ali asked.

She ignored his question. ‘Well, I live on the
fourteenth
. It's much better than the fourth. Everyone knows that.'

Ali laughed and, amazingly, Caitlin laughed too.

‘How can you look after a dog on the fourteenth floor?' Ali asked.

Caitlin's smile vanished, and her scowl was back more deeply than before. ‘None of your business. In fact, I don't even know why I'm talking to you. We never talk to people, do we, Falcon?' She turned away, tugging at the lead. With Falcon following behind this time, Caitlin marched around the concrete building towards the door. The wind whipped her hair into angry tails around her head. She was out of sight. Ali heard the door slam.

Ali walked back slowly. Had he made a new friend, or a new enemy?

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Chapter 3

Ali had his answer later that evening.

The removal men had been and delivered all the stuff that had been stored in Nan's loft for two years. The flat looked like a cardboard-box showroom. Now Ali and Mum were
trying
to get ready for their first night in their brand new home. His bed was in the right place, but Mum couldn't find sheets. She was opening boxes and cases, searching for something he could sleep under.

‘Oh, Ali, look at this!' She held up a red minidress. ‘I'd forgotten I even owned this. I actually used to go outdoors in this,
in public
.' She laughed. ‘I wonder if I could still get into it?'

Ali grinned. He'd found some pyjamas and his toothbrush. But no sheets. There was a big beach towel on top of one of the boxes. That would do for one night. He laid it on his mattress and threw his duvet on top. He put his favourite book – his
Giant Atlas of World Animals
– on top of that. Ali lay down and let the book fall open wherever it wanted; Chapter 4: Australia. He could still hear Mum exclaiming over forgotten ornaments and pictures as she carried on unpacking in the living room. Ali read the caption under the photo of a tiger snake: ‘It strikes with unerring accuracy.'

The doorbell rang.

Ali was nearest. He got up and padded barefoot to the front door. A cold draught blew from beneath it on to his toes. The peephole was too high for him to see through.

‘Who's there?' he yelled.

‘Ali? It's me, Caitlin.'

Ali opened the door a crack and peered out. Caitlin stood in the corridor. She was wrapped up in her thick black coat, but Ali could see the pink hem of her nightie hanging down below it. ‘Hello,' he said uncertainly.

‘It's Dad. He took Falcon for a walk. He does that last thing. But he hasn't come back. And that was an hour ago.'

‘Oh . . . You'd best come in.'

‘Will you help me look?' she asked. ‘You seemed nice before. Will you help?'

‘Er . . . Of course.' Ali thought Caitlin looked cross, but she sounded worried. He had to help. ‘Come in. I'll have to ask my mum.'

Caitlin stepped into the hallway and Ali closed the door behind her.

‘Who is it?' Mum shouted from the living room.

Ali walked ahead of Caitlin. ‘Mum, this is Caitlin. She lives upstairs. Her dad went out with the dog, but he hasn't come back. Can me and Caitlin go and look for him?'

‘Absolutely not!' Mum said.

Ali got ready to argue.

Then Mum grinned. ‘But
me
and you and Caitlin can. Go and put something warm on. I'll grab my scarf and boots.' Mum stood up and moved towards her bedroom. As she passed Caitlin, she stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll find him. I'm sure he just ran into a friend and lost track of time,' she said.

Caitlin nodded slowly, then gave a weak smile. ‘Thanks,' she whispered.

Mum dropped a quick kiss on the top of Caitlin's head, then went into her room.

‘Does your dad often stay out late?' Ali asked.

Caitlin shook her head. ‘No, but like I said, odd things keep happening.'

Mum was back quickly. Ali pulled on his own coat and led the way to the lift.

Outside felt different to the way it did in the daytime. It was still and quiet, as though the cold evening mist held secrets. The street lights cast orange islands on the ground. Between the islands was the shadowy night. Parked cars were hulking shapes, and the bushes crouched in darkness. There was nobody else about. Ali zipped up his coat right to the top. ‘Which way would your dad go?' he asked.

‘Usually he goes round the block, as far as the footpath to the river. There's a scrubby bit of woods there that the dogs like. Then he comes back.' Caitlin sounded much stronger now that they were actually doing something.

‘Right,' Mum said. ‘Let's go. Keep together, OK?'

She set off with long strides. Ali and Caitlin marched beside her. The only sounds were their own footsteps on the concrete and once, somewhere in the distance, the squeal of a van speeding away.

‘Keep an eye out for any likely-looking pubs,' Mum said.

Then, out of the darkness, there came a sudden sound. Claws striking the ground. Running fast. Racing through the mist. One of the shadows, come alive and coming towards them. Ali looked left and right, trying desperately to see what it was.

‘Falcon!' Caitlin dropped down on one knee as the huge dog bounded into her arms. Ali laughed nervously. The shadow was only Falcon!

Caitlin spoke urgently. ‘Falcon, where's Dad? Do you know?'

‘Is she like a police dog?' Ali asked.

‘No, she's as thick as mince. But she
must
know where Dad is. Fetch, Falcon. Fetch! Find Dad!'

Falcon sat. Her huge mouth lolled open as she panted.

‘Falcon!' Caitlin said impatiently.

‘Well, she'll never be Lassie,' Mum said. ‘It looks like we're on our own. But at least we know we're going the right way. We found Falcon; we'll find your dad.'

They carried on walking. The road narrowed as it got closer to the river. It was hardly more than a lane now. Ali saw a wooden sign marked ‘Public Footpath' pointing in the direction they were walking. He realised that soon the lane would shrink down to a path. A dark, damp path, with trees looming in on either side. He shivered.

And then, in the shadows, he saw something.

‘What's that?' He pointed towards the shape on the ground. Something large, something still.

‘Dad!' Caitlin ran forward. Mum and Ali chased after her. Caitlin dropped down next to the man.

Ali recognised him. His head was shaved and the dark smear of his tattoo spread up his neck. He was the man who'd held the door open that morning. The one who'd called Ali ‘sonny'. His eyes were closed and a bruise had swollen up on his left cheek.

‘Dad? Dad, can you hear me?'

His eyelids flickered weakly. He groaned.

‘Dad? Are you hurt?'

‘My head,' he moaned. He tried to lift his arm, but it seemed too heavy. It fell back to his side and his eyes closed tight again.

Mum eased Caitlin aside, gently. ‘Let me look, love. What's his name?'

‘David. Dave,' Caitlin said.

‘Dave? Dave, if you can hear me, then open your eyes. Don't try to speak.'

Dave's eyes opened slowly.

‘Don't worry. It's all going to be all right. We'll get you to a doctor. Do you think you can move?'

Dave reached up again. This time his hand made it to his head. He grabbed Mum's shoulder with his other hand and pulled himself up. Mum helped him to sit.

‘What happened, Dad? Did you bang your head? Did you fall over?'

‘Nothing,' he whispered. ‘Nothing happened.'

‘Dad! Something must have happened!'

‘Caitlin, please! Help me get home.' Dave struggled to stand, leaning heavily on Mum and Caitlin as he did.

‘You need to go to hospital, get checked out,' Mum said.

‘No. I need to get home to bed. Least said, soonest mended, OK?'

‘But . . .' Mum didn't sound sure. Ali could see the line between her eyebrows that meant she was unhappy. He felt unhappy too. Surely Dave needed to see a doctor?

Caitlin nudged him in the ribs. ‘Help me get Dad home,' she said.

‘Quickly,' Dave whispered.

Mum nodded reluctantly. Then, together, they held Dave up as he took step after painful step back to his flat.