The Secret of Platform 13 by Eva Ibbotson Read Free Book Online

and soft green turf and someone whose face he couldn’t see clearly , but who he knew wanted him.
    Only dreams were things you woke from and he should have known that it was not him but Raymond the visitors had come to find. Everything had always belonged to Raymond. All his life he’d been used to Raymond living upstairs with everything he wished for and parents to dote on him. Raymond had cupboards full of toys he never even looked at and more clothes than he knew what to do with; he was driven to his posh school in a Rolls Royce and just to tear the wrapping paper from his Christmas presents took Raymond hours.
    And so far Ben hadn’t minded. He was used to living with the servants, used to sleeping in a windowless cupboard and working for his keep. You couldn’t envy Raymond who was always whining and saying: ‘I’m bored!’
    But this was different. That these strange, mysterious, interesting people belonged to Raymond and not to him was almost more than he could bear.
    ‘You’re sure he isn’t being tortured?’ asked Cor as the screams went on.
    ‘Quite sure. He often does it.’
    ‘ Often ?’ said the wizard and shook out his ear trumpet in case he had misheard.
    Ben nodded. ‘Whenever he doesn’t want to go to school. Probably he hasn’t done his homework. I usually do it for him but I couldn’t yesterday because I was visiting my grandmother in hospital.’
    ‘Who is your grandmother?’ Odge wanted to know.
    ‘She’s called Nanny Brown. She used to be Mrs Trottle’s Nanny and she still lives here in the basement. She adopted me when I was a baby because I didn’t have any parents.’
    ‘What happened to them?’
    Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t know. They died. Mr Fulton thinks they must have been in prison because Nanny never mentions them.’
    Talking about Nanny Brown was difficult because she was very ill. It was she who protected him from the bullying of the servants – even the snooty butler, Mr Fulton, respected her – and if she died . . .
    The rescuers were silent, huddled together on the bench. Hans had closed his eye and was covering his face with his invisible hand. He was used to the silence of the mountains and felt a headache coming on. Odge was crouched over the suitcase as though to comfort what was inside.
    It was a child who was making that noise; the child they had come so far to find. And the boy they liked so much had nothing to do with them at all!

Five
    ‘What is it, my angel, my babykins, my treasure?’ said Mrs Trottle, coming into the room.
    She had been making up her face when Raymond’s screams began. Now her right cheek was covered in purple rouge and her left cheek was still a rather nasty grey colour. Mrs Trottle’s hair was in curlers and she gave off a strong smell of Maneater because she always went to bed covered in scent.
    Raymond continued to scream.
    ‘Tell Mama; tell your Mummy , my pinkyboo,’ begged Mrs Trottle.
    ‘I’ve got a pain in my tummy , ’ y e lled Raymond. ‘I’m ill.’
    Mrs Trottle pulled back the covers on Raymond’s huge bed with its padded headboard and the built-in switches for his television set, his two computers and his electric trains. She put a finger on Raymond’s stomach and the finger vanished because Raymond was extremely fat.
    ‘Where does it hurt, my pettikins? Which bit?’
    ‘Everywhere,’ screeched Raymond. ‘All over!’
    Since Raymond had eaten an entire box of chocolates the night before this was not surprising, but Mrs Trottle looked worried.
    ‘I can’t go to school!’ yelled Raymond, getting to the point. ‘I can’t!’
    Raymond’s school was the most expensive in London; the uniform alone cost hundreds of pounds, but he hated it.
    ‘Of course you can’t, my lambkin,’ said Mrs Trottle, drawing her finger out of Raymond’s middle. ‘I’ll send a message to the headmaster. And then I’ll call a doctor.’
    ‘No, no – not the doctor! I don’t want the doctor; he makes me worse,’ yelled