The Third-Class Genie (12 page)

He ran forward. One thing he could claim for himself; he would be first to go on one of those boats on the canal. But even as he ran, a fog dropped over the Tank covering everything. In the midst of the fog, someone called him.

“Help, help, O Alec, help!”

Alec turned so swiftly he nearly fell. The fog was clearing, or rather it shrank together into a small space just a yard or two away from him. As it cleared, the outline of Boner’s Street and the railway arches appeared. Alec saw, much to his dismay, that they were just as they had always been, dark, grim, mucky, rubbish strewn. Nothing had changed.

Nothing?

From the shrinking patch of fog, a dark shape emerged, no bigger than a man. But a tall, broad-shouldered man. Alec could see him now.

He was dressed in a long red and white striped robe and flowing burnous, like one of the forty thieves in AH Baba. On his feet he wore sandals and round his waist was a broad shining belt, into which was thrust a wicked curved sword.

But his face was dark brown. A silly thought went through Alec’s head. I thought he was an Arab or something, but of course he was a slave from Africa.

Then Alec burst out:

“Abu, what happened?”

“Aieee, O Alec. The worst has happened. In my great effort to work your will, the magic spell proved too much. In trying to make it work, something, alas, has gone astray, and here I am, materialized.”

Alec looked round in alarm. The idea of a black slave in ancient robes standing in the middle of Boner’s Street was at first quite funny. On the other hand it could be very awkward.

“I think you’d best disappear again and finish off the spell.”

“Alas, if I disappear again, it will take all my power and I will not be able to work the spell. For the moment my powers are so low that I can do neither. I must stay with you, I fear. But that was your first wish, that you should see me,” the genie added cheerfully.

“Oh, Nora,” said Alec. “What am I going to do? You are a flipping nuisance, Abu.”

A hurt look passed over the black man’s face and Alec was immediately ashamed.

“I’m sorry, Abu. I didn’t mean to be rotten. It’s just that now I don’t know what to do. I mean, I can’t tell you to get back in the can and carry you home, can I? And you can’t stay here in Boner’s Street. Someone’ll Alec. Then they were come along any minute.”

Abu shrugged. “Truly, O Alec, I am sorry, but I cannot help it. In the Great Book of Magic, every genie is warned that there is a limit to his powers. I have been lucky. I have known genies who tried to do too much and they exploded and were never seen or heard of again.”

“Oh, I’m glad that didn’t happen to you. Now what can we do? I could smuggle you home and ask Granddad to put you up in the caravan. No, that would only cause more trouble.”

Suddenly Alec had an idea.

“I’ll take you to my hideout, Abu. Come on.”

Picking up his satchel, he led the way across the road to the arches. Beneath the sign
BUGLETOWN ORDNANCE
–
KEEP
OUT
Alec found the fourteenth board and gave it a push, but it would not move. Alec remembered that the day Ginger and his mates had tried to follow him, he had blocked up the entrance. He beckoned to Abu and swiftly explained the problem. Abu pushed back the sleeves of his robes which revealed his huge, muscular, brown arms. With one thrust he pushed in the loose plank, shoving aside the brickwork which jammed it.

Alec prepared to slip through. But, what about Abu? He’d never get through. It was too narrow. They’d have to move another board. Abu must have been a thought reader. He dug his fingers under the end of the plank and gave a terrific push and pull. With a shriek, the nails gave and the second plank swung inwards, leaving a space wide enough for both of them to go through.

“Hey. What are you doing down there? Hooligans!”

It was Miss Morris. Her voice screeched down the road and Alec could hear her boots clumping along the pavement.

“Quick, Abu, in we go.”

They wasted no time. In two seconds they were through into the Tank and Abu pushed the two planks back into place, covering the entrance.

“Now where did they go? I could have sworn I saw them smashing the fence in. A big black fella and somebody else.” They could hear Miss Morris muttering to herself on the other side of the fence. Alec beckoned to Abu and they walked over to the main factory buildings where they climbed the rickety stairs and entered the crane room. Abu looked about him.

“What place is this? An ancient palace?”

Alec looked blank. How could he explain factory to Abu? “Oh, it’s just an old place where people used to work. No one ever comes here now.

“It’s not very comfortable, but it’s safe. Did you say the old magic power was completely gone, or will it come back?” he asked Abu.

“I know not. Perhaps.”

Abu looked grim, so Alec changed the subject.

“Well, I’ll have to see what I can do to find you some food and blankets, though where and how I don’t know.”

“Fear not, O Alec. What you can do, you will do, I know.”

“Anyway, Abu, you hang on, while I sneak off home and find what I can. Ma’asalaama.”

“Ma’asalaama,” replied Abu, as Alec went down the stairs.

As Alec crossed the canal, he thought that it was some little time since he had kept his disasters-triumphs score card. Mind you, disasters had put so many in the net that it was hardly worth bothering. Instead he concentrated on solving Abu s problems.

He worked out a simple plan. He would nip into the caravan and borrow two blankets from one of the lockers. Granddad had plenty and the others were only used in the middle of winter when the family needed extra. When he’d done that, he’d have a scout round the larder and see what he could rustle up.

The plan was fine, if it had worked. Granddad was out, and picking up the blankets was not difficult. Alec was in the middle of raiding the larder when Mum caught him. Two minutes of third degree and she’d found out about the blankets.

He couldn’t tell her what they were for, but pretended he had a scheme for camping out for the night. It was daft and Mum clearly didn’t believe it. She said nothing more, but sent him upstairs to get on with his homework and told him he needn’t think about going out again that evening.

Up in his room, Alec counted his money. He had enough (ignoring the fact that he owed Kim seventy-five pence) to buy half a take-away kebab at Nick’s cafe in Station Road. He wondered if they sold half a kebab; perhaps he could put a deposit on one and pay by instalments.

“This is getting us nowhere, Bowden,” he told himself and had to admit that he was right. But what to do? He couldn’t leave old Abu in the lurch, even if he wasn’t the most successful genie in the fourth dimension. Now he knew the meaning of the words “spell disaster”.

Alec sat on his bed and pondered for half an hour. But at the end of it he was still left with the same daft situation. Aladdin never had to look after his slave like that. Funny, the more he thought of Abu as a slave, the more ridiculous it seemed. Abu was a friend, a mate. They’d had some fun together. Now the boot was on the other foot and Alec Bowden had to work the magic.

“That’s life,” he said, addressing the empty can he held in his hand. It was truly empty now.

“One moment you have a genie at your command. Next moment you have an illegal immigrant on your hands.” Yes, Councillor Blaggett was right after all. There was an illegal immigrant around Boner’s Street, and Alec Bowden had brought him there.

“Illegal immigrant” mean Abu had to be kept a secret. But Alec couldn’t just leave him down in the Tank. Abu would be cold and hungry in the crane room. Alec would have to get help. But who could he ask?

Not the family. It wouldn’t be fair to get Granddad mixed up in all this, though Alec was sure the old man would help. Not Kim, either. She was too friendly with Councillor Blaggett’s son these days.

He was on his feet, tramping round the room, when the thought struck him. There was only one person in Bugletown, or rather two, whom he could ask to help Abu. The thought hit him right in the middle of the stomach like a wet fish.

But it had to be, it had to…

It had to be Eulalia and Ginger Wallace.

C
ORONATION
S
TREET
WAS
booming away on the telly as Alec slipped downstairs and into the kitchen. All was quiet. He gently eased open the larder door.

“Is that you, Alec?” called his mother from the front room. What a radar system!

“Just getting myself a peanut butter sandwich, Mum.”

“All right, love. Straight upstairs again afterwards.”

Alec didn’t answer. He wasn’t going upstairs but couldn’t bring himself to fib about it. He made two sandwiches, one with fish paste and one with peanut butter, and nicked a plastic bag to wrap them in. He squashed the bag into his jeans pocket.

The back door was open. The evening was still light and not too cold. If he got down to the Tank right away…

“Psst. Where are you off to, Alec?”

Granddad was peering out through the caravan window.

“Nowhere special, Granddad,” whispered Alec.

The caravan door opened. Granddad’s arm appeared holding a blanket.

“Please yourself. Take this with you, though. And hey, tell us about it afterwards.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, Granddad. That’s smashing. But how did you know?”

“I heard your mother talking to you in the kitchen. Now, you’d best get off before the programme ends.”

Waving to Granddad, Alec ran off along the road, past the allotments and down to the plank fence round the Tank. It looked solid enough now, and it seemed impossible that for one tiny moment, all this had disappeared and a supersonic, marine fun centre had been in its place. Now all that was left was the Tank and poor old Abu shivering in his satin nightie.

The thought made him speed up. Up went the loose plank and Alec went through the fence like a Commando. He was over the canal in a flash and the bridge was firm this time. Another few seconds and he ran up the rickety stairs of the crane house.

“Abu,” he called. There was no answer.

“Abu,” he called again, bursting into the crane room.

To his relief a loud snore answered him. Abu, knees tucked under his chin, was fast asleep on the table. Alec shook him.

“Aieee,” grunted the genie, stretching himself and nearly falling off the table. He looked round wildly for a moment and shook his head in bewilderment. Then he grinned. Alec put the blanket on the table, pulled out the squashed sandwiches from his jeans pocket, and he offered them to Abu.

“Shukran jazilan, O Alec.”

Abu disposed of the sandwiches in four massive bits. He slapped his stomach and, holding out his hand, shook Alec’s hand.

“Look, Abu. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here and keep out of sight for a while.”

“Why, O Alec? Am I not fit to be seen?”

“No, well, er, people like you aren’t…”

Oh, how do you explain about illegal immigrants to someone who’s never heard of race relations?

“Look, Abu, I’m going to see someone, to ask for help.”

“Ah, someone with wealth and power?”

“Not exactly. But someone who might know what to do.”

“I am in your hands, O Alec.”

“OK. I’m off. Keep out of sight. Ma’asalaama!”

“Ma’asalaama!” Abu replied.

Alec rushed down the stairs and out across the waste to the fence on the Boner’s Street side.

It took him a few minutes to pull out the planks which Abu had forced into place that afternoon and push his way out into Boner’s Street. He went carefully, for he didn’t want Miss Morris to catch sight of him. A pound to a penny, the old lady would report what she’d seen earlier that day to someone or other.

There was no one in sight as he hurried down the street to Number 85, but as he came closer, he saw someone whom he guessed must be Mrs Wallace. She sat comfortably on top of the old stone steps, knitting away with two little girls in pinnies and pigtails sitting beside her. Mrs Wallace was calling across the street to a friend who sat mending clothes on the steps of the house opposite. As he came nearer, Alec heard something that stopped him in his tracks.