The Door That Led to Where Read Online Free PDF

there the better.
    He made his way along the softly carpeted corridor, his outstretched hands guiding him. At Mr Baldwin’s door he realised he was not alone. He could hear voices coming from inside.
    â€˜What do you want from me?’ Mr Baldwin was saying, his usual rich, booming voice stuttering. ‘I’m a sick man – I need to go home.’
    Another voice hissed and spat the fat of unheard words.
    AJ found no comfort in the familiar voice of Mr Baldwin. Something was not right and instinctively AJ knew he shouldn’t be there.
    He had started to creep back to the Museum when Mr Baldwin said, ‘Are you threatening me, Ingleby? For God’s sake, why would I? The boy doesn’t even know about the door. Now let me go home.’
    AJ paused. He couldn’t make out the words of Mr Baldwin’s companion for they were as soft as shoe shine.
    Then Mr Baldwin said quite clearly, ‘Without the key, Jobey’s Door can never be locked. You know that, I know that.’
    AJ slipped into the Museum, closed the door and held his breath. He waited until he heard the door to the chambers close. It was a heavy Georgian thing that had more noise to it than a door should. He gave it a moment or two. No one was there. This, then, was his chance to escape. On the landing he looked cautiously over the stair rail then ran down the two flights of stairs and through the swing doors onto the pavement. To his surprise he found that he was in a fog unlike any he had ever encountered. It was so dense that his hand vanished when he held it before him. The fog whirled in the basements and through the railings; it gathered in pockets, and in it AJ saw ghosts from another time.
    Elsie had often talked about the ‘pea soupers’ as she called the notorious London fogs of her youth.
    â€˜So blooming thick that as a kiddiewink I thought they were made of all the buried people of the city come back to stretch their bones.’
    AJ could well see what Elsie meant. Thinking of her calmed him until he felt someone near him and an irrational terror overwhelmed him. He ran along beside the railings, using them to guide him to the gates of Gray’s Inn.
    He tugged at the gates desperately and only then remembered they were locked every night.
    A voice, close by, hissed, ‘Mr Jobey – is that you?’
    â€˜Let me out,’ AJ shouted. ‘Let me out.’
    Through the fog he felt a hand grab at his arm.
    â€˜I’ll see you at Jobey’s Door,’ said the voice.
    â€˜Get off me, you fucker,’ said AJ and it was then that the gate suddenly opened and an old gentleman carrying a walking stick and a carrier bag full of books crashed into him. The bag broke and everything went flying.
    â€˜I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,’ said AJ. ‘I was  … ’
    He bent down to pick up the walking stick and help gather the books. A white pigeon’s feather fluttered from one of them. A good sign, thought AJ. He expected the man who had clutched at his sleeve to appear at any moment but when AJ stood up he found the thick fog had disappeared, replaced by a mellow mist more suited to a London autumn, and there was not another soul to be seen, beyond the gentleman with the books.
    â€˜Are you all right?’ said the old gentleman.
    He owned a head of wild, white hair and a face dominated by a nose of magnificent proportions. AJ handed him back the walking stick but without the carrier bag it was impossible for the gentleman to carry the books.
    â€˜Where do you live?’ asked AJ.
    â€˜4 Raymond Buildings,’ said the gentleman. ‘Top floor.’
    AJ’s heart sank. He didn’t want to go back to the building he had just left, but the gentleman had what Elsie would call a gammy leg. There was nothing for it.
    â€˜My name is Edinger, Professor Edinger.’
    â€˜Mine’s AJ.’
    The professor lived under the sloping roof of the